Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 332 - Scrupulous Samaritans

Guifford watched as Scarlett came to a halt before the sea of monster corpses, her gaze sweeping over the carnage with a slight frown. Then, lifting her head, she looked at him and his knights. A heartbeat later, her form dissolved into mist and reformed directly in front of him.

“Count Knottley,” she greeted, reaching up to remove a pair of glasses. The dagger in her hand vanished, along with the burning circlet that crowned her head. “It seems my arrival was well-timed. Shardscarabs are a very particular breed of monster. My barony stores a considerable share of our supplies in this harbour’s warehouses — their destruction would have been a costly loss.”

Guifford’s knights stayed silent, their eyes fixed on her. He, too, studied her closely.

Was this truly the same Scarlett Hartford he knew? The daughter of his old friend — the girl he’d watched grow from a distant, aloof child into a sharp-tongued, imperious young noblewoman? She had always lived in the shadow of her father and younger sister when it came to magic, never showing much aptitude.

He had heard tellings of her so-called blossoming talent as of late, but he’d been skeptical. He knew all too well her tendency to embellish her achievements. Yet, based on what he had just witnessed, it seemed those rumours had not only been true, but they had undersold the reality.

“…Is there something you wish to say?” Scarlett asked, one brow arched.

Guifford’s eyes drifted past her, toward the scorched remains of the shardscarabs still littering the docks. Then to the young man approaching through the field of corpses. Guifford’s instincts told him the youth was dangerous in his own right.

Finally, he looked back to Scarlett.

“How did you do this?”

The sheer scale of the destruction rivalled what he’d only ever seen in large battles — usually the work of entire mage battalions or a grand wizard, and even then, rarely with such ease. Mages were more suited to handle creatures like shardscarabs, but this…this was something else.

Somehow, she’d even neutralised the monster’s explosive death throes.

This wasn’t the work of someone inexperienced in battle. Guifford also couldn’t ignore the artifacts she wore. He could practically feel the raw power that had radiated from some of them.

Scarlett gave him an almost amused look. “Magic,” she said simply. She raised a hand, and a ribbon of flame unfurled, weaving through the air in delicate, hypnotic spirals. “As you are well aware, it is what my family excels in.”

Guifford’s brow furrowed. Clearly, he hadn’t been aware enough.

“That was…remarkable,” Garrin spoke up from beside him, wiping a hand across his forehead, expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. “I had no idea you could do all that, Scarlett. I doubt even Livvi knows. It’s incredible.”

Scarlett glanced at him briefly. For a moment, Guifford could’ve sworn she was trying to place him. But not even the Scarlett he remembered would have forgotten the face of the man she’d once nearly been betrothed to. Surely.

Eventually, she gave a small nod. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Her focus shifted back to Guifford, considering him for a couple of seconds before speaking again. “Given the situation, I believe we can agree that this is not the time for idle discussion. I will offer my assistance where it is needed.” Her voice was calm, resolute. “So, tell me — where do you need me?”

The cinderbeast let out one final, earsplitting roar as Scarlett’s pyrokinesis smothered its flames. The fire licking its thick, matted fur flickered into dying embers. A violent shudder wracked through its body — then a spear of water, laced with glimmering crystals of frost, shot clean through its chest. Blood sprayed in a dark arc across the firelit ruins, and with a ragged, wheezing breath, the monster collapsed.

ts massive body crashed into the remnants of the building it had made its den. Charred beams splintered, stone shattered, and a thick plume of dust and ash billowed into the already smoke-choked air. The acrid scent of scorched fur and lingering sulphur settled over the battlefield like a choking shroud.

Scarlett exhaled slowly, surveying the burnt remains of the street. Stray cinders clung stubbornly to the broken cobblestones, glowing dimly along the jagged edges of collapsed rooftops and blackened storefronts. With a thought, she snuffed out the last of the flames, though she allowed a few curling wisps to drift towards her, drawn into the burning circlet atop her head. The energy seeped into her, warmth threading through her body as the [Crown of Flame’s Benediction] mended the minor wounds she’d sustained in the fight.

She reached into her [Pouch of Holding] and pulled out a cloth, which instantly dampened in her hand. She wiped sweat and ash from her face, then let the fabric slip from her fingers. It dissolved into embers before touching the ground.

She’d lost count of how many she’d gone through tonight.

Her gaze slid to the side as a translucent system window blinked into view.

[Mana: 1758/12592]

She’d had to burn through a heavy supply of mana potions to stay on her feet this long. Now, she was definitely starting to feel the backlash. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes, and her limbs felt somewhere between overcooked noodles and half-deflated cushions.

Even in the Hall of Echoes, she hadn’t pushed her reserves this far. The last time she’d come close was during the battle at Anguish’s Citadel — and even then, she’d at least had [Ittar’s Genesis] to help regulate her mana.

Now, she had to make do with the [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame (Divine)]. It made her pyrokinesis a lot more efficient, but conserving mana was still something she needed to be mindful of in circumstances like these.

Her eyes drifted eastward, towards the horizon, where the first rays of dawn were beginning to paint the sky in streaks of gold and rose. The attacks had raged on through the night, and Scarlett had lent her aid wherever she could.

The defence of Freybrook had been an arduous, to say the least. The Cabal and the Tribe of Sin really hadn’t held back this time — their assault was far more focused and relentless than in previous raids. If this was the scale of their attack here, she could only imagine what the other cities had endured. Places like Wildscar and Silverborough had received more reinforcements and supplies, so she doubted they’d fall entirely, but she had no illusions that their situations were any better than Freybrook’s.

She had her suspicions about the targets. Unlike previous attacks, the monsters’ appearances had been more calculated — exploiting vulnerabilities, striking at pressure points in the city’s defences, including some that should have been closely held secrets. There was no doubt in her mind that once this was over, even more accusations of treason would be thrown around among the nobility.

But that was a problem for another time.

The immediate threat to the city had largely been contained, even if it’d taken time. The portals feeding new monsters into Freybrook had only begun to dwindle in the later hours of the night. But now, at least, she hadn’t seen a new one open in over an hour. That was a good sign.

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The Tribe of Sin might be able to control monsters, but they couldn’t manufacture them. Amassing enough for a coordinated strike of this scale wasn’t something they could do indefinitely. For now, Scarlett felt relatively certain things would remain calm.

That didn’t mean the damage hadn’t already been done.

Nearly every street bore some evidence of the night’s fighting — charred ruins, shattered buildings, and debris-strewn roads. Pockets of the city, particularly those where sanctuaries had been established, remained largely untouched, but elsewhere the destruction was severe enough that cleanup alone would take weeks or months.

Her gaze settled on the blackened silhouette of Brook Tower rising from one of the city’s districts. the rest marred by soot and melted stone. At its base, sprawled among the rubble, lay the corpse of an adult dragon. Somewhere at its base, sprawled among the rubble, lay the corpse of an adult dragon.

The beast had continued its assault on the tower for much of the night. From the outset, it had been clear the mages stationed there were struggling. Scarlett had considered intervening herself, but an adult dragon wasn’t something to take lightly. Even if she could bring it down, the mana cost would have been high. That was mana better spent helping the city as a whole.

Her magic was particularly suited to dealing with large numbers of weaker enemies, after all. And the empire’s mage towers were fortified with enough enchantments that she’d been confident they would manage, eventually. Which they had. Even if it took a while.

She scanned the ruins one final time before stepping into the street. Whenever she came across a lingering fire or a monster skulking in the shadows of collapsed buildings, she dispatched them without slowing.

Before long, Fynn appeared at her side. His white hair was a tangled, blood-matted mess, and grime streaked his face and clothes. She would have preferred to clean him up, but there wasn’t much point. He’d be filthy again soon enough. Besides, he didn’t seem to care.

Shin and Allyssa had fought beside them for parts of the night, but the two were now stationed at one of the shelters, offering whatever aid they could. Allyssa, in particular, had exhausted nearly her entire stock of potions and concoctions in her efforts to help. Scarlett had assured her she’d cover the cost of resupplying, but she fully expected them to be running on empty for the foreseeable future.

Not exactly ideal—especially with the empire’s situation still teetering—but sometimes, priorities had to be made.

Scarlett wasn’t especially moved by the destruction or the plight of Freybrook’s citizens. Still, it was…unsettling. Or perhaps frustrating was the better word. Either way, she had no desire to see this kind of devastation unfold before her. And so, where she could, she had chosen to help.

As she and Fynn cleared out the last remnants of the night’s attackers, they began to see more people moving through the streets. Guardsmen combed alleyways for lingering threats—though they found little where Scarlett had already passed—while others focused on dousing fires and similar efforts. Priests searched for survivors among the rubble. Civilians, exhausted and anxious, wandered through the cold morning air. Some were searching for their homes. Others already knew they had nothing left to return to.

What Scarlett found perhaps most annoying was how, just a day ago, all of this had been…whole. The idea that so much effort, so much work, could be reduced to rubble in a matter of hours… Someohw, it offended her. It felt irrational, like a fundamental breach of some unwritten contract.

From what she’d gathered, the more densely populated areas had managed to evacuate quickly, at least. So it was possible that the death toll wouldn’t be as catastrophic as it could have been. But even so, Freybrook would remain a shadow of itself for some time. The city’s most critical infrastructure had survived, but that didn’t mean there would be enough food or supplies to sustain its population in the days ahead.

And there was little to do about that now other than accept it.

Eventually, after covering a wide swath of the district and reaching the edge of her mana reserves, Scarlett and Fynn turned toward the refuge where Allyssa and Shin were.

The shelter had been set up in one of Freybrook’s larger squares — a broad, open plaza flanked by solid stone buildings that had mostly withstood the night’s onslaught. Among them stood the Freybrook Shields Guild branch, its exterior marred with deep scratch marks but otherwise intact. A heavy contingent of guards lined the perimeter of the square, some posted atop makeshift barricades, others helping distribute supplies. Their gambesons and weapons bore fresh marks of fighting and ehaustion clung to their expressions, but they remained vigilant.

Within the square, dozens of tents and hastily converted carriages covered the cobbled ground. Priests of the Followers of Ittar moved between them, their red robes dulled with dirt, their faces drawn with fatigue.

Nearby, Scarlett spotted a group of Shielders exiting the guild branch, large packs slung over their backs as they prepared to reenter the city. None were familiar to her, but she imagined Allyssa and Shin had spopken with them at some point. The only person at the local branch Scarlett truly knew was Kat, and the woman was still out of the city on some other job.

They continued towards the square’s center, weaving through the camp. Through gaps between tents, Scarlett glimpsed children huddled close to their families, wrapped in whatever blankets had been salvaged. A hushed murmur of voices hung in the air, punctuated by the occasional cough or cry of the wounded.

At least the distant crackle of burning ruins, which had been an ever-present sound earlier in the night, was gone. Though the scent persisted.

As she passed, some of the gathered people recognised her — either from seeing her throughout the night, hearing name, or being in some way connected to the relief initiatives her barony was responsible for. Some looked on with respect, others with wary curiosity. A few even regarded her with a blend of fear and awe.

The latter were likely the ones who had witnessed her magic firsthand.

Eventually, she found Shin and Allyssa inside one of the larger buildings adjoining the square. Allyssa was busy assisting a group led by a priest, helping to dress wounds and tend to the injured. Shin was nearby, carrying supplies between the triage stations.

Both looked utterly drained.

Under different circumstances—if they’d had Rosa’s charms, for example—Scarlett might have let them continue their work. But they were clearly near their limits. Especially Allyssa, who had soot-streaked skin and dark smudges under her eyes, every movement sluggish.

Without asking for their input, Scarlett strode up to the priest overseeing the efforts and stated, matter-of-factly, that she was taking them with her. Then she turned on her heel and left as the two Shielders struggled to catch up.

The first thing she did was locate her carriage. She’d used it to enter the city at the start of the attacks, leaving it near one of the sanctuaries, and later had it brought to the shelter once things had settled somewhat. Moving through Freybrook’s streets at the moment wasn’t easy, and she had seen more broken vehicles than intact ones. That said, it was still possible. The biggest issue was likely the fact that many of the city’s horses had fallen prey to the monsters at some point.

Fortunately, she had taken care to ensure that wasn’t the case for her.

After finding their coachman, she and her party set off towards the mansion. The journey was slow, forced to navigate around debris and blocked roads, but the quiet ride offered a moment of rest. None of them had much energy for conversation.

Scarlett wouldn’t be surprised if Count Knottley expected her—and the other nobles in the city—to convene soon and discuss how to respond to the crisis, assess the state of the surrounding regions. But that could wait. She had fought through the night, and now that the worst had passed, it was only reasonable that she be given time to recover. In her current state, she would be of little use to anyone.

Although, as they neared the estate, she began to pick up faint signals from the Loci.

She barely resisted the urge to sigh.

Rest, it seemed, would have to wait.

The carriage passed through the estate gates, coming to a stop just before the mansion. In the dim of the morning light, they stepped out and crossed the courtyard into the mansion’s foyer. There, a harried gathering of servants and staff awaited them. Worry and tiredness were etched into their faces. Worry and fatigue were etched into every face. Many likely had family in the city.

Garside was there, of course, his usual composure slipping only slightly, just enough to show a flicker of relief upon seeing all of them. Rosa stood nearby, arms crossed, her expression easing as Scarlett entered.

Scarlett exchanged a few words with Garside, issuing brief instructions, then turned to Rosa.

“Are you rested enough to employ your charms?”

The woman studied her for a moment, as if searching for injuries. Finding none, she breathed out softly and nodded. “I can probably manage one or two, at least.”

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“Good. I need you to restore some of my vitality.”

Rosa’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t question it. Instead, she reached into her cape and pulled out her klert. Soon, a single sharp note rang through the air. Almost instantly, Scarlett felt a small surge of energy course through her veins. It wasn’t enough to fully banish the deep exhaustion weighing her down, but it steadied her. Just enough to maintain an unshaken front.

And perhaps to exchange a sharp word or two, if needed.

“Thank you, Rosa,” she said lightly. Her tone then shifted as she turned to Fynn. “We still have one more matter to attend to.”

With a thought, she had the Loci transport the two of them from the foyer to the dense forest behind the estate — the same place they’d been the night before.

The scent of blood still clung to the air.

Fynn stood beside her, his expression dark as he gazed into the trees. It seemed he’d already grasped the situation.

Scarlett reached into her [Pouch of Holding], retrieving an object that beat with an unsettling presence. It resembled a heart, though its lower half was sculpted from a dark, wine-red bone that gleamed with an unnatural sheen. Thick, sallow veins twisted from its top, pulsating faintly beneath a sickly, translucent surface.

[Essence of Zenthas]

{The still heart of one who abandoned impermanence, grasping for truth}

She handed it to Fynn. “You are already familiar with the procedures.”

Her gaze shifted forward, sharpening dangerously.

“Now,” she continued, “let us meet the guests responsible for our current circumstances.”