Chapter Six Hundred and Four – Facsimile

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Chapter Six Hundred and Four - Facsimile

I probably didn't use my Insight skill nearly enough, but if ever there was a time for it, it was now. I squinted at the thing unfolding itself from the seed pod embedded in the deck and used the skill.

A Plant Facsimile, level 1

I was honestly surprised. After watching the giant seed fight the Avatars head-on, I'd been expecting something ... stronger.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say hello, something blurred across my vision and the plant was cut in half. Bastion appeared on its far side, his sword gently clicking into place in his sheath as the top and bottom halves of the plant collapsed to the deck.

"Bastion!" I cried out.

"Yes?" he asked.

"You killed it! I was going to talk."

Bastion turned a bit sheepish. "My apologies. The battle is making me jumpy."

Slashing out from behind the keep, a line of white cut the sky in half. Some enormous mass of seed was cut free and plunged toward the water below.

I ran a hand through my hair, but didn't get a chance to say anything. The halves of the plant shook and shivered, then the bottom portion twisted around and grew back into the shape of a woman whose legs ended in thick vines. "Ow," she said.

I licked my lips, then stepped closer while carefully gesturing to my friends to stand back. "You can talk?" I asked.

"Yes. Evidently," the plant facsimile replied. Its voice was strange, willowy and breathy, like someone trying to speak after running a marathon. Every word came out as a bit of a gasp. The plant facsimile glanced around, but its, her, attention returned onto me. "So, you're the one."

"I'm the one?" I asked.

The facsimile's face split. It didn't have a mouth, really, but there was a split where a mouth would be, and even though what was within had no resemblance to teeth or anything of the sort, I still knew that it was smiling. "The Clean one," she said. Then she clapped her hands together, making a strange, squelching noise with every impact. "Yes! I've been looking forward to this. But it's even better than I imagined!"

I glanced around, taking in the overall situation.

The Black Avatars were still fighting. Powerful spells were being let loose above and behind us, with the keep mostly shielding us. Above, the crew on patching duty were working as quickly as they could, covering up holes and stopping our leaks. Given another ten minutes, they'd be done with the majority of the main repairs, which was great.

As for the roots... the ones crawling up the side of the keep had stopped. Those that hadn't been washed away by my Cleaning magic remained, but they weren't moving anymore.

There weren't any projectiles coming our way.

I returned my attention to the facsimile. "How is it better than you imagined?" I asked.

"Because you're a bun!" she said. She gestured above, at her own head where two ears made of entwined vines were bouncing with every motion of her head. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"I... yeah, being a bun is pretty nice," I said. "You called me the Clean one?"

"Isn't that what you are? You know, I've been aware of you for months." The facsimile's face twisted into an expression that I couldn't quite read. Her face was just a little too off to make it easy to tell. "You destroyed one of my babies."

"I did?" I asked.

"Oh yes. Starved it to death by breaking the core it fed from. Don't worry too much, I had plenty more, and sometimes mistakes happen. Only you did it again, and then again! My, you must have a lot of General Skill Points by now!"

I swallowed. I did have a few of those. The only way to get them, as far as I knew, was to destroy a dungeon core. Or to kill a person that had destroyed a core.

"You've been following me?" I asked.

"Oh, no no, nothing like that. Well, maybe a little bit like that?" She giggled, the sound made a shiver crawl down my spine but... well, this ... whatever it was ... hadn't done much of anything except crash a seedpod into the Beaver, making a big hole in the deck. It gave me a phantom ache near my lower right ribs due to the ship awareness granted by Captaining.

My friends were all clearly on edge, but no one had attacked after Bastion's slice, and even that didn't seem to have bothered the facsimile too much.

"What do you mean, then?" I asked.

"Just that I noticed when you went around doing your thing. I especially noticed when you discovered that weakness of mine. Cleaning magic! You know, I had tested with Holy, and Fire, and all sorts of other aspects. But Cleaning? I wouldn't have thought of that in a million years!"

"Ah, well, thanks? I guess I kind of just lucked into it."

"Yes. It's going to take months for me to fix that weakness. I'm wondering if it's even worth it."

I licked my lips. "Are you... the Evil Roots?"

The facsimile blinked, then she laughed, at first it was a giggle, but it quickly turned into a gasping, wheezing belly laugh. "No! No, I'm not the Evil Roots. That's a good guess, however. I can see why you'd jump to that conclusion."

She shook her head, still clearly amused.

"My name is... hmm, I don't know what I want to say."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "If we want to become friends, it's easier with a name."

Ginger Root

Desired Quality: Someone to speak to and help her in her ultimate quest.

Dream: To take over the world, to weed out the rotten and pestilent.

Insecurities: Afraid that she might be wrong. Also, afraid of seaweed.

The facsimile... Ginger, flinched back, then glared at me. I supposed that calling her Ginger was incorrect, in some ways. If I had to guess, and I kind of had no choice in the matter, Ginger was using some sort of skill or spell to copy her image onto this plant thing. This was her talking, but the real Ginger was elsewhere.

"That was rude," she said.

"Sorry," I said. "Um. My name is Broccoli Bunch. Hi?"

"I know your name," she snapped. Her ears flicked, and I knew she was upset. "Don't do that again."

"Okay, I won't. I guess that was overstepping a little. Sorry."

"Hmpf."

"So, ah, if you're not the Evil Roots, then who are you?" I asked.

"I'm their gardener, obviously," Ginger said. Two arms made of tangled vines rose and crossed over her chest. "And soon, I will be the gardener of the World, too."

A nervous chuckle escaped me. "What... do you mean by that?"

The wooden face smiled its not-quite-right smile. "I mean I will rule this world as my garden."

"That's very ambitious of you," I said. "Uh, can I talk you out of that?"

She snorted. "I doubt it! Sorry! But it's okay. I'm going to be a fair and just ruler. Don't you worry. Under me, no one will starve. Everyone will have what they need. And there will finally be real justice on Dirt."

"I don't think, um, that most nations will ... go along with that," I said. "Won't you have to destroy a lot of them?"

"Only those that refuse to fold," she said. "I'm trying to take over the world, not obliterate cultures."

"I feel like those two don't exactly, ah, mesh," I said. There was an explosion from the other side of the keep, almost punctuation to what I was saying. "You'll have to fight a lot of people to take over the world. Some of them are good people too."

"Sure." She shrugged. "But you can't grow the perfect rose without pruning a few branches along the way."

"I... feel like the people being gardened might disagree," I said.

Ginger smiled again. It looked better this time, and on a hunch, I used another Insight.

A Plant Facsimile, level 3

That was interesting, and maybe a problem if this discussion went on for too long. At the same time, I didn't want to just end it. "So, why are you here, talking to me?" I asked.

"Oh! Because you're neat! You're not the only one fighting me, of course, but out of all of them, you're the one I like the most. And I didn't even know that you were a bun!" Her ears wiggled. "That only makes it better!"

"You like me?" I asked. My own ears twitched a bit before I got them under control.

"Yeah! You're fun! Cleaning is a neat trick! And I know that you have a few levels in Gardening as well. I can respect that."

"That can't have been the only reason," I said. "You came here, and attacked the Black Avatars, just to talk?"

"Oh no, they were always going to be a problem. I just happened to see two birds where one stone could strike, you see?" She shrugged. "Besides, I did want to make you an offer." She leaned forwards. "Would you... would you like to help me, Broccoli Bunch?"

I blinked. "You want me to help you take over the world?"

"Yeah! You have a knack for people, I think. It would make it so much easier. And maybe I'd let you keep a nation or two? Maybe Deepmarsh? Or is that too swampy? Sylphfree, then? You could rename it, of course! The... Broccolian Nation of Niceness and Bunnies?"

"I'd really rather not," I said.

"Oh... well, that's too bad."

***

A note from RavensDagger

I started a new fic called Black Apron - Max Level Archmaid

Gonna start posting it on RR in November, but the first chapters are free up on my patreon: /collection/2375053?view=expanded

Here, we have some art:

Uh... here's the blurb too:

Rosaria Thorn had one claim to fame.

In the world’s biggest VRMMO, she reached max level, stacked enough high-tier Jobs to make PvP guilds nervous, dressed her terrifying endgame avatar in a maid uniform, and spent her free time defending the game’s final boss from other players.

Then she died.

Now she’s woken up inside that same avatar, in a world that looks disturbingly familiar.

Her first order of business is obvious: find the Demon Lady she once protected. Unfortunately, the former final boss is imprisoned, dying, and has one final quest to offer her: Protect my granddaughter so that she may one day retake the world.

Said granddaughter is currently attending a prestigious magic academy, where she is failing her classes, losing fights, making enemies, tripping over furniture, and generally proving herself spectacularly unsuited to being the heir of a Demon Lady.

Rosaria accepts immediately. After all, she is a [Maid].

And a [Maid]’s duty is to keep her mistress safe, her uniform spotless, and any potential threats at a comfortable distance... Preferably six feet underground.