Coquelicot sat in the corner of the inn, visibly pissed off. Most of the guests were familiar with the tales behind the red robes and gave the high inquisitor a wide breadth. It would take a couple of days for the new arms to be ready for use, and Coquelicot was to stay around at least until then.

“Serves you right.” Xamiliere greeted her and sat down at the same table. “What do you actually know about the bracelet? We need to figure out how to fix Anna.”

“Or kill her.” Coquelicot pointed out. “The book I read about it only had a brief description. Basically, it said that it’d make its wearer into the best possible necromancer they can be, and that it can only be removed by the one who put it on.”

“So we can just knock her out and you can fiddle the bracelet off with your feet or whatever?” The spriggan suggested.

“We can try, but if that fails, she will just obliterate whoever did it to her. Is that worth the risk to you? The hands I used while locking it are gone too, so the likelihood of it not working is quite high.” Coquelicot stated, she would much rather figure out a way to kill Anastacia and do it after the cult had been taken care of. That would be infinitely easier than removing the bracelet. Anastacia could be poisoned or killed with a projectile she couldn’t control. But that would have to wait, as Coquelicot was determined to get something out of the whole mess.

Rosie brought out a bottle of wine that Coquelicot had ordered. The necromancer stared at the bottle for a second, as if expecting for it to move on its own, but then remembered that she didn’t have her arms and sighed deeply. She had left the remaining three as models for the blacksmith to work from.

“Need some help? Maybe a straw?” Xamiliere mocked the inquisitor.

“Do you happen to have a drinking horn or an ivory cup or something?” Coquelicot asked from the innkeeper, ignoring the spriggan’s remarks.

“Nope, sorry about that. I’ll leave the bottle here in case you figure out something.” Rosie said, shrugged and left to get some new orders.

Coquelicot was beyond furious now, and her refined shell began to slowly crack as she muttered something about strangling Anastacia after this was over. Kneeling like this simply wasn’t in her nature at all, but all that mattered was the plan, and temporarily pretending to submit to Anastacia would most likely save thousands of lives in the long run. But in combination with the relative helplessness of being literally disarmed, it was enough to bring her to a boil.

“Happy thoughts, madam necromancer. Happy thoughts.” Xamiliere said and continued to annoy her.

“I will burn every forest, cut down every tree and salt every inch of land, if it means you will die off.” Coquelicot responded and straightened her posture.

“Aaanyway… Back to the problem. What if we find an enchanted item that counters the effects of the bracelet? Like something that pacifies her.” Xamiliere suggested. “Then there’s also the ring that messed her up last time…”

“Maybe. The ring is too dangerous since it might just make her realize that everyone is a threat to her because they want the bracelet taken off, but something like a slave shackle or a poison to cloud her mind might actually work.” The necromancer admitted. “But I would first consult someone who knows more about enchantments. This is up to you though. I’ll be closely monitored by her since there’s no way she actually trusts me. Also make sure you think it through before you bring someone else into this; you and your friends are worthless to me, and I won’t ruin my plans by stepping in to protect you when you get caught.”

“Who are we poisoning?” Someone said through the window next to them.

Coquelicot peered through and only saw the top of the speaker’s head, but she recognized the voice.

“I’m still regretting that I didn’t paint the walls of your brother’s shop with your blood, dwelf.” She said and pushed the window to close it.

Valimir pranced through the door, sat down with them and bumped fists with Xamiliere.

“And of course you two know each other… This plan is becoming worse by the second.” Coquelicot sighed, and would have buried her face into her arms if she could have.

“I was actually just bringing you these drafts of the prosthetics, but whatever this is, I want in.” Valimir said and put some papers on the table.

“Whatever, just report back to me when you know how and when you two plan on getting yourselves killed. So I know to come and watch.” The high inquisitor remarked and started going through the drafts while Xamiliere briefed Valimir.

The blacksmith suggested that instead of the three pairs of normal hands, he would make a pair of normal hands, a pair with the dragon’s teeth as claws and a pair with retractable spikes. Coquelicot didn’t really get the purpose of the added weaponry, but the drafts were otherwise sound. She’d just need to get the harness off, so the blacksmith could copy the shoulder joints properly.

“Your brother’s work keeps impressing me. At least your coffin will be well-made.” The necromancer said and got up. “Spriggan, take me to your room. I need some help. Dwelf, tell your brother to proceed with his plans.”

The unlikely cabal parted ways as Valimir returned to his brother’s shop and Xamiliere took Coquelicot upstairs.

Xamiliere’s room was filled with valuable looking items she had collected on quests. Crowns, ceremonial daggers, jewelry and the like were stuffed into every nook and cranny, just so they wouldn’t be in the way.

“You have quite a collection here, why haven’t you sold all this?” Coquelicot asked.

“Why would I? I don’t need more money. If you see something you like, just take it.” Xamiliere said and sat down on her bed. “Now what did you need me for?”

“Disrobe me.” The high inquisitor said bluntly. “I’m wearing a harness underneath and I need to get it off.”

“Score!” Xamiliere celebrated and started taking off Coquelicot’s belt.

The harness was a sight to behold. Each of the shoulder joints was anchored to a metal corset and a spine made out of metal plates, and all this was fastened on with countless straps and belts. Dismantling the whole thing took almost an hour.

“This stuff weights a ton. How do you walk around with all this?” Xamiliere asked and weighed the harness with her arms.

“The extra mass helps when I punch things, and I do that often. And the arms need to be attached firmly enough to not pop out on their own.” The necromancer explained. “Look, I’ll be out of the game for a while. If you want to save Anastacia, you have until my new arms are ready. After that, I suspect that Anastacia will attack the cult. And when they’re dealt with, I will kill her.”

With her robes back on, the high inquisitor felt uncomfortably light and defenseless, despite still being one of the most dangerous people in the world. She asked Xamiliere to deliver the harness to the blacksmith and returned to the tavern, where Anastacia was waiting for her.