This Ascent to Divinity is Lewder Than Expected

5.59 – Last Minute Preparations

Soon after, Zoey left for Sabina's shop. There were a number of tasks that needed to be dealt with before their accelerated departure. Of them, Sabina was Zoey's responsibility. Fe, in the same crafting district, would be her next stop, and Adrienne her last. Delta would be handling Maddy and Aria. Rosalie, arranging new guides for the trip.

She hoped everyone would be able to leave early, since she would much rather they made the long trip through the Fractures as a group. Such expeditions were dangerous, and having a squad of four wayfarers meant everyone would be much safer. Besides, the many hours of hiking would be more tolerable if she had Sabina there to continue her alchemy tutelage. Several days of hiking could quickly become a chore, but the company would make it less so.

As she hurried through the streets—it was deep in the evening, though night hadn't quite fallen—Zoey's thoughts couldn't help but stray to the events of the past hour. So much had happened, and so quickly, that her head was still spinning.

First, there was Lucinda. Who was she, really? Zoey hardly thought Rosalie was lying about the woman being her mentor, but it felt like an incomplete explanation. The older woman had a presence. In the way a mountain 'had a presence.' And the armor she'd equipped, that thick black plate mail, and her stretching obsidian spear. It'd been the most intricate, menacing set of equipment Zoey had ever seen.

Zoey knew she couldn't equate the appearance of gear to its strength or rarity in every case, but considering this was Rosalie's mentor, she suspected it was safe to do so. How strong was Lucinda? What advancement? How important of a figure was she, in the Deepshunters Guild?

For that matter, who was Rosalie? It was a question Zoey had been not ignoring, exactly, but had definitely set to the side, happy to let Rosalie give Zoey the answer in her own time. It didn't matter to Zoey, not really, but considering recent developments, she found herself more curious than ever.

There was also the fight. Zoey's first combat against other people. And what an explosive first. The image of Rosalie's spear punching through the woman's stomach was constantly intruding her thoughts. That strike had been aided by Zoey's empowering spell; the splatter of blood was on her hands as much as Rosalie’s. Zoey had seen plenty of gore while fighting monsters, but this had been a person's blood. An injury created by Rosalie's—and Zoey's—explicit efforts. That was a different matter. She still felt woozy, remembering the encounter.

And she was frustrated with herself for that. She'd known this adventure between worlds was going to come with violence, and not just violence restricted to mindless creatures. Of course, she would minimize it where possible, but conflict was in her future—with real people. She had come to terms with that; she was hardly stupid enough to have ignored the possibility. Still, that didn't mean she could brush past how she and Rosalie had nearly killed a woman. Even if wayfarers were durable, that shot had been devastating. It’d left a literal hole in her stomach.

Almost more than that, it'd been Rosalie's reaction to everything. Not just the lack of hesitation she had acted with, but how little regard she showed for the wound she'd inflicted. Then afterward, the incredulity in her voice when Zoey had shown concern over her injuries. Rosalie was right; all things considered, it'd been a few scrapes, easily healed by a potion. But still.

Altogether, it served as a stark reminder of the company Zoey had fallen into. Who her girlfriend was. A warrior. Not in some fantasy romanticized sense: Rosalie killed things for a living. She had trained for combat her entire life. Bloodshed and violence didn't give her a second's pause. Not even when her opponents were living, breathing people.

Perhaps Rosalie had purposefully avoided killing that woman when she easily could have, but she might not have been overly bothered if it had been necessary. Had Rosalie killed someone already, even? Would that not have been her first?

What had her training been like, growing up? What trials had she faced to earn the talent she so effortlessly displayed? For all Zoey had considered the topic in an abstract way, the questions seemed far more real, after their last fight. Zoey should have put more effort into learning about Rosalie's past, however much the woman purposefully guided conversations away from the topic.

On the trip over to the crafting district, Zoey didn't quite manage to steady her swimming thoughts. But her concerns were replaced with immediate matters. Finding Sabina's storefront, she tested the front door, only to find that it was locked. Fortunately, she had a key; she pulled it out and let herself in.

Sabina was in her workshop. Zoey hadn't expected to find the woman anywhere else, even late into the evening. Sabina's work was her entire life. The tall, antlered woman glanced over at Zoey as she appeared at the workshop doorway, having heard the bell jingle on her way in.

"Zoey," Sabina said in polite greeting, keeping her attention on her boiling cauldron. "What brings you here, at this hour?"

"We've got problems."

The hand stirring the cauldron went still. "An ominous opening," Sabina commented. "Explain?"

Zoey did so. In broad strokes, she laid it out. That their three-day set-off time had been reduced to tonight—or otherwise as fast as feasibly possible, since they were in danger. Zoey didn't go into the exact details, and neither did Sabina press for them.

By the end, Sabina didn't seem perturbed. Her lips pursed as she stirred her cauldron, considering the situation.

"I've packed everything truly important into my inventory," Sabina eventually said. "Much of the larger equipment is yet to be packaged. As you can see." She gestured around at her only half-disassembled alchemical workshop. "However, most of it could be replaced at Mantle. We don't necessarily need to bring it ourselves. Re-outfitting from scratch would simply be more expensive."

"But you could leave?"

"Not immediately," Sabina said. "I'd need at least a few hours. And likely, to borrow some of your inventory space. How much do you have in reserve?"

"A lot, I think." Wayfaring-type classes had larger inventories than most other class types. A craftswoman like Sabina could only store so much, but Zoey, a wayfarer with runes between third and fourth advancement, had a much larger storage space—enough to carry back the impressive hauls that came with long expeditions.

"Then if it's necessary, it's necessary," Sabina said. "I can leave by tonight."

Zoey breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't want to create extra hassle for Sabina by forcing her to leave much of her stuff behind, but in the grand scheme of things, it was the better option. So long as she packed what she couldn't do without—her custom equipment and rare, crucial reagents—then she was right: they could simply re-outfit Sabina when they arrived. With their business's recently booming success, they would have plenty of funds to do so. Especially when they went into full business.

"Okay. Great. Perfect. Do you have Adrienne's address?"

"I do."

"Can I have it?"

"Of course."

Sabina supplied directions, and Zoey jotted them down.

"I'll be back after I talk with Fe," Zoey said. "I've got some item stuff I need to take care of with her. Then I'll see if Adrienne's good. After that, I'll be back to help you."

"I'll need an hour or two to arrange everything. Take your time."

Zoey nodded to herself. "Okay, I'll see you then."

Sabina hummed her agreement, stirring her potion batch, her attention only half on Zoey. Like typical for the stoic woman, she was taking the frantic development completely in stride.

Not having time to waste, Zoey departed.

Fe's shop wasn't much of a walk; the two stores were in the same district. But to her dismay, browsing hours had passed; the door rattled when Zoey tugged on it. And obviously, she had no key like she did with Sabina's shop.

She tried knocking, but got no response, even when she all but pounded on the door.

"Damn."

Biting her lip, Zoey considered her options. She couldn't wait until tomorrow—not unless it was a hundred percent necessary, and even then, who knew what Lucinda would allow—and the corrupted artifact was too important to give up on.

After nearly killing someone, what was breaking and entering?

Zoey just hoped Fe was a workaholic like Sabina, and occupied inside her workshop, not out and about. Otherwise, Zoey had major problems. Peering around—and the streets were unfortunately not empty; it wasn't that late, yet—Zoey accepted her fate.

She took a step back, braced herself, then kicked the door in.

It … worked better than she'd expected. Zoey already knew that she was much stronger than she used to be. Not only had she received passive stat boosts from moving through advancements, but she also shared a portion of them with Delta, Rosalie, and Maddy. Seeing how they were all decently progressed wayfarers themselves, Zoey was much stronger than the typical mage. To an extent Zoey hadn't fully appreciated.

So, the door flung open. The deadbolt punctured through wood and ripped out the other side. The glass window to either side of the wooden frame exploded, showering down in a puddle of crystal shards.

Horrified, Zoey looked around. At the noise, people had understandably turned to stare. She waved sheepishly at the various faces, then stepped inside Fe's shop, picking her way over the thickest glass shards. Her cheeks burned as she went.

Yeah. They would be calling the guards. That was fine; she would be gone before they got here, probably. Zoey would pay Fe back for the damages, and the urgency was very much required.

To Zoey's immense relief, Fe was indeed in her workshop. Maybe this day had been a disaster in a thousand ways, but there were some reprieves.

Despite calling out Fe's name as she jogged through the store and into the workshop, the sheep girl didn't hear the noise Zoey was making. Fe was completely absorbed in her task.

Zoey took in the sight. An artificer in the midst of her work.