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Chapter 193: Bonds
🕑 Added 2024-04-20 01:38:25 +0000 UTCChapter 193: Bonds
The dinner went about as well as he expected. Multiple of the heirs came up to him again, though this time more pensively. The snake didn’t show its face this time, too embarrassed to do so. Asher, however, didn’t have that luxury.
Mercury faced the fae rather early into the dinner. Apparently, the fae of fire had seen the beginnings of their friendship drag out long enough. Though they had to wait a while. Lady Whisperblossom was currently taking quite a bit of his attention.
“No,” the mopaaw affirmed again, “I will not be revealing all the secrets of the other courts to you.”
“Come on now, Mercury! What are a few secrets between friends? Entertain me, will you?” The willowy lady clasped her hands together and leaned her whole body to the side, just a little too far.
“I have given you entertainment enough.”
“Oh you have,” she said, dragging out the words hungrily. “But I am notoriously hard to satisfy. Come now, surely it is not so bad to strike another bargain with me?”
Mercury eyed her for a long moment, weighing the options in his mind. He was doing his best not to let his tiredness influence this decision, even if he was wary. Only from the corner of his eyes did he notice that Asher joined his companions, standing with Arber and Alice behind him.
How all his tentative friends in this realm ended up with “A” as the first letter to their names, he was unsure of, but it was simply a passing thought. Lady Whisperblossom had the habit of needing his full attention.
She seemed to be almost reaching out towards his face whenever he turned away, those nails on her hands growing long and sharp as knives. Only when he looked at her again would she withdraw, as though nothing had happened.
Really, he was sure she was just trying to get a reaction out of him. Like a cat, playing with a mouse. He smiled. That was a rather funny image.
Suddenly, the expression on her face darkened slightly. “Wouldst thou share what has you so bemused?” she asked.
Mercury barely held his smile back from widening, but decided to give a half-answer. “Ah, you see, I believe my thoughts are only privy to myself. It would appear this is yet another “secret” you would like from me. What are you willing to trade?”
She smiled, slyly. “Willing to trade now?”
“For trinkets, certainly,” Mercury said with a dramatic sigh.
The lady’s gaze bore into him. “Sure. I shall tell you… my impression of Alice,” she said, pointing at the hero in question, “for your amusing thought.”
“Acceptable,” Mercury hummed. His smile blossomed again. “Dear lady, I compared your pestering of me to the way a mopaaw plays with a mouse in my head. Which I found to be an amusing image, because, you see, I am a mopaaw. Yet you are exhibiting more of the traits my species is known for than even I.”
She looked at him, her face unchanging, not an expression appearing on it. “I see,” she hummed, drawing out the silence after that sentence. “Indeed. I can see how you came to that conclusion.” For a moment, he thought her eyes flickered to the beast of Blossom he had identified before, but they were back on him sooner rather than later.
“You owe me an impression, dear lady,” Mercury said.
“I do, certainly, yes,” she nodded readily. “This “hero” who appears to have attached herself to you.” Suddenly, she stood straight, and gave Alice a disapproving look, like an old librarian about to throw a rowdy kid outside.
“Her kindness makes gifts given to her more valuable than what she gives in turn. It is disgraceful to the art of trading. Older fae than me would even call it disgusting, not that these are words I agree with of course. Her valiance is hypocritical, in that she seems just fine to harm when necessary or challenged,” Whisperblossom explained.
Mercury turned to look at Alice, who simply stood there, blank-faced. Really, she turned almost more mannequin-like than even Arber. He looked back at the lady, noticing that she had, yet again, moved closer while he wasn’t looking.
The smell of rot that emanated from her was sickeningly sweet, but muffled heavily by his domain, which he promptly conjured up more strongly, after which the lady swayed back again. “I appreciate your perspective,” Mercury said diplomatically. “I believe that Alice simply holds on to more… mortal ideals than much of the courts.”
Lady Whisperblossom paused at that, regarding the hero again. “Mortal ideals,” she said, rolling the words over her tongue. “How interesting.”
For a moment, she seemed placated, and Mercury decided to use that chance to strike. He was glad that the fae seemed to so often wear their surprise on their sleeves. They must have been so used to normalcy that his shake-up was breaking their facades. Or, perhaps, this was all trickery to let him think he was doing well in their games.
Whatever the case, he did his best. “I see I have given you new perspective, dear lady Whisperblossom,” he said, drawing the words out with a smile. “I am sure you will dearly accept this gift, am I wrong?”
Within a second, her eyes snapped back to the mopaaw, glowing a hot, hungry amber hue. She grinned, exposing fangs. “Certainly, dear Mercury. I shall see about making ourselves equal again,” she readily agreed.
And with that, she was gone, leaving Mercury to finally turn to Asher. He let out a small sigh of release, then focused on the next problem in front of him. “Hello, friend,” he greeted the young member of Scorch, making sure the connotation was clear.
Asher shifted from one foot to another, seeming somewhat awkward. Their two pairs of arms were clasped behind their back. “Yes. Good evening, esteemed friend.”
“You can just call me Mercury,” the mopaaw said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and clapped the fae on the shoulder with a small application of <Force of the Hecatoncheires>. Asher flinched, as if fearing a more worrying occurrence. Mercury frowned. “Asher, is it alright if I call you by your name?”
“Yes. It is acceptable, of course,” the fiery fae nodded, somehow seemingly robbed of much of their enthusiasm.
“Right then, Asher. Are you worried about me?”
The inheritor of fire seemed stunned, as if not expecting that answer. “What do you mean?” they asked. Mercury would have bet there was a bead of liquid fire rolling down their face. So stunningly human-like.
“You are scared of me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of a fact.
“... A little,” Asher nodded.
“Why?” Mercury asked.
Asher gave him a long look. “What is a friend, to you?” The question seemed to take a lot out of them, as if they were worried about retaliation.
“Someone you can rely on for help.”
“Yes. Exactly. And I am your friend now, correct? So you must be able to rely on me. At all times,” Asher said, slowly. “Surely, you can see my worries?”
Mercury blinked. Then, he laughed, for a few moments. He quickly caught himself, and moved onto responding to the question. “Well. Yes. I wanted to be mutual friends, though, Asher. If I make unreasonable demands, you’re free to refuse them. I want to understand you, gain your trust, without allegiance to your court. This is an interpersonal relationship, not a game I’m playing.”
The fae seemed stunned at that, running a blazing hand through his long, charcoal black hair. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Mercury affirmed. “I shall not exploit you, or your trust, or your friendship. If you require my assistance, you may also ask. If it is something of little consequence, we can exchange help, without any debt.”
Asher stared at him. “An exchange without debt? Do you mean just… not keeping track of it but still expecting payback?”
Mercury rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t mean that. I mean what I said. No ledger, no tally, nothing. If you need help, reach out. Simple as that.”
“... Right,” Asher said, clearly unsure. “So, uh, do you have any first mission for me with this whole friendship thing?”
Despite the awkwardness, Mercury could at least appreciate that the fae was trying. He held back a small sigh, and simply gave a nod. “I’d like you to tell me who else you think I should challenge.”
“Hmm, that’s tricky. I know a bit about the other scions, but nothing much about most of the older fae,” the prince admitted.
“That’s fine,” Mercury said. “I don’t need to know about the older fae, or the weak ones. I need to work on establishing myself as high up the ladder as I currently can. Stomping the weak would just make me look arrogant.”
“Right. We don’t challenge pixies for a reason,” Asher nodded sensibly. “Then, I think you could convince Blossom into a match. Their heiress is rash and spiteful. Misha, too, would be a good target.”
“But you’re biased.”
Asher shrugged. “Certainly. I hate their guts. He’s infuriating. But he also had the most valuable things to trade, in terms of mastery and knowledge. They’re unlike me, after all, much more like a spider.”
Mercury nodded again. “That does make sense, but I believe I would like to avoid it.”
“Why?” Asher tilted his head, charcoal hair swaying along.
“He’s dangerous,” Mercury readily admitted. “They wouldn’t accept a challenge they couldn’t win.”
“Hmmmm,” Asher hummed out a reply, seemingly growing more comfortable. “Reasonable. They wouldn’t. You’re right.”
“Anyone else I should consider challenging?”
Asher brought an arm to their chin, stroking it lightly, sparks flying as though striking steel against flint. “I suppose it depends on what you would like to win. I don’t know your goals, so the advice I can give is limited.”
That made Mercury think. What did he want to win? Furthering his ihn’ar was nice, but doing it with knowledge others had acquired felt wrong. It was why his understanding of shadow was more like traditional magic than his other abilities. He could simply grab some of their talent, but that felt strange, too.
“What if I ask for their levels, can I do that?” he asked.
“Sure,” Asher shrugged. “It is a common bet among younger fae. Desire is, too, which is the source of levels, as you probably know. But this will be something people won’t bet for too long, if you win too much.”
That made sense. Mercury also didn’t have much to bet. Were his levels even worth that much to the fae? His total level was just 75, after all. That was counting all the levels he had ever gained.
What level were lower level fae? Higher than that? What evolutionary tier were they? Appy?
[The levels of fae creatures vary wildly, as do their tiers. Pixies, the most basic of fae, are the same tier as the individual was as a common mopaaw. The fae the individual is currently interacting with are generally at least one tier above human. Older fae may go far higher than that.]
… Now he was curious. What about dragons?
[Dragons are at least two tiers above base humans, however, their species is known for extreme resource consumption. Therefore, they often cannot demonstrate their true power unless they are in a resource-rich environment. Examples include: places with high mana density, places with vitality, or places with much of the element a dragon is aligned with.]
Right, that made sense. Zyl’s mother had barely moved after transforming, though she had been an absolute terror. So, the fae he was interacting with were largely on the same tier as him, he guessed. His last evolution, leyfal, seemed to be pretty much around the tier of humans.
His stats were often higher, of course, but that was due to the training he was putting himself through. It also netted him a very different skillset. Few humans could compete with him when it came to dreamweaving, probably.
When comparing himself to fae, though, that gap was far more narrow. Their skills were more insidious and manipulative, less physical. So they could meet him on an equal playing field. He wasn’t going to do that, though. Instead, he would eke out every single advantage he could find.
“So, then, how many levels can I get the inheritor of Blossom to bet?” he asked.
Asher grinned. “I thought you would never ask. Seven levels, at least.”
“Why seven?”
“There are numbers fae enjoy. Three, seven, thirteen. Those kinds. Four and twelve work as well. Numbers associated with magic,” Asher explained, “or bad luck. The people around here really enjoy folklore, you see.”
Mercury nodded. “Makes sense. So, I should convince her to bet seven or twelve levels?”
“Indeed. The system generally takes a cut though, so don’t expect to get the full amount,” Asher added.
“You appear to have been speaking about me,” Mercury heard, suddenly. He quickly spun around, seeing a swirl of leaves on the floor. It was a tiny mouse, though after a sudden swirl, they reshaped into the larger beast he had seen before.
The scion of Blossom was still as imposing as Mercury remembered, fur, interwoven with flowers. They also sprouted from the eye sockets of the animal skull that served as her face. “We have,” he readily admitted. “I am thinking of challenging you.”
She grinned. “Oh? And what would this challenge entail?”
“Currently I have only thought of my wager,” Mercury said. “I wanted to see if you were willing to lay your levels on the line. Seven of them.”
“A paltry sum,” she huffed.
Mercury smiled gracefully. “I would not wish to delay your next evolution by more than a chapter.”
The fae scoffed. “A chapter. Perhaps if I followed my heart. In these courts? Seven levels will either be won from others or brutally torn from corpses. It would take me more than a chapter to gather seven of them, now.”
“I see, so my wager is adequate,” the mopaaw affirmed with a smile.
Blossom’s scion eyed him disgracefully. “Sure,” she admitted. “Seven levels. The winner shall receive five, and the system the other two. In exchange, differences of experience based on total level are made up for. Now, how do you wish to challenge me?”
“Ah, this, I am unfamiliar with. I scarcely think it would be fair for me to demand you face me on my home turf after I rudely surprised you with this challenge,” Mercury said.
The beast, still yet to introduce herself, huffed again. “Do you wish to challenge me to a trial of growth, then?”
Mercury laughed nervously. “I believe more neutral ground would be beneficial.”
“A trial of combat would be simple,” she suggested, baring her fangs again.
“And you would kill me,” he stated, matter-of-factly.
“Perhaps,” the beast admitted with a smirk.
“Instead, then, we could participate in a trial of cold? Both our vessels are vulnerable to its effects I believe.”
“Hmmm. This seems acceptable. However, I believe there is some sort of sneaky trick up your sleeve. I refuse,” she said.
This was more difficult than Mercury had thought. The beast was sharp. “Right, then, the right of selection lays with you. I shall see if your suggestions are acceptable.”
“A game,” she suggested. “A board game, perhaps.”
“I don’t know many rules,” Mercury interjected. “And learning would put me at a disadvantage.”
She frowned. “Fine, fair.”
“A competition of foreign geography.”
The beast seemed confused, then shook her head. “That seems like a sneaky pick, declined. A contest of beauty.”
“Against a shapeshifter? No,” Mercury shook his head. “One of stories?”
She snorted. “No, not against someone as well-traveled as you. A competition of art.”
“Certainly not, when there is beauty in nature,” Mercury said, eliciting a small frown. “Perhaps we ought to have someone else pick for us?”
“It would appear so,” the beast nodded. “Someone neutral. Someone neither you nor I know.”
“Arber?” Mercury asked.
“I suggest one of the crew. A servant,” Arber said simply. “They would know both of you, now, and be unbiased.”
Mercury eyed the beast. “Acceptable,” he confirmed.
“Acceptable,” she agreed.
So it was done. Arber called one of the staff over a moment later, an old woman, with a hunched back, carrying a large plate ein one hand, while holding a cane in another. Despite her age, she looked strict, with sharp eyes, and her hair tied back in a strict bun. It felt like her back was fighting against the hunch every moment she stood.
For a few seconds, she eyed the two of them. “Compete in ferocity. You are both beasts.”
“”I am not a beast!!”” the two of them hissed, together. Then they paused, and looked at each other.
“... Admittedly, I had been calling you a beast in my mind,” Mercury conceded first.
The inheritor of Blossom frowned. “Likewise, I suppose. You may call me Odvye.”
“I shall,” Mercury nodded. “You may call me Mercury, then.”
“Acceptable, esteemed guest,” Odvye said. Both gazed at the servant again, suddenly feeling more mutual respect. The woman seemed to hold a self-satisfied smirk on her lips. “This behaviour has brought results, so it will not be punished,” Odvye said to the servant, “however it is not why you were asked here.”
“It is my duty to bring about good results,” the woman countered. “I have been called here to help facilitate a challenge. That is what I did. It is what I will do. You have no authority to punish me, nor would you be able to. The challenges open to you are simple, really. I suggest you do one of trust, or one of truthfulness.”
Mercury blinked. He felt that those would favour him, given that Odvye had only now revealed her name. Despite that, the fae seemed to not dislike this idea.
“I am amicable to these competitions.”
“Perhaps, then,” Mercury said, “we ought to stake half a reward on either?”
Odvye looked at him for a long moment. “Acceptable,” she said. “If one is to win both, they gain the levels. If there is a draw, we simply remain the same.”
That worked just fine for Mercury. If he won, he would have done so fairly, and if he drew, then he would simply have learnt something new about how trustworthy this fae was. Odvye seemed to be truthful to her word until now, but he wondered if it would last.
“Acceptable,” he agreed.
“Good,” the shell made from leaves and animalistic parts nodded along. “Then, I shall be off. Our challenge will be tomorrow. Do not disappoint me, Mercury.” With that, she disappeared again.
The interaction left Mercury a bit confused, and seemingly, the same went for Asher. “Did not expect her to be so level headed.”
“Staff brings it out in all of us,” Arber said. “Servants are the only ones known to really bring out the true nature of fae, like dredging up sunken treasure. The old woman saw right through her.”
As usual, the tree was right. Mercury turned to thank the servant, but the lady was already gone. “What was her name?” he asked Arber.
But the tree shook their head. “Nay,” they said. “‘Tis something I cannot say. The servants are untouchable.”
“Untouchable?” Mercury asked again.
“Yes. They are unseen when they want to be. Unheard when they want to be. It is their trade. They cannot harm anyone, at all, but in exchange they know their desires, and are untouchable in turn. We do not bring harm to them, for their duty is imperative to the courts.”
“Where do they even come from?”
Arber adjusted their hat for a moment, drawing it slightly lower. “It depends,” they said, drawing out the words. “Some are rescued moments before death. Others are tricked. Many are offered contracts. A few are born into it, and again others seek us out to make their own deals. Occasionally, humans will simply wander into the fae realm and be offered this way out.”
“So they don’t get a choice,” Mercury stated simply, suppressing the fury he felt.
“... Not always, no,” Arber shook their head slightly. “They can’t always leave, either. But it is a calmer fate than that of humans forced to do battle in the arena.”
“Can they refuse requests?”
“Yes,” Arber nodded. “Any that would put them in harm’s way, physically or mentally. A society built on suffering is no society at all. The courts would not have lasted this long if they were.”
“Yet they are decaying,” Mercury pointedly added.
His retainer gave a deeper frown. “Yes. Because some fae mistreat the servants. Coerce them, or make those who are unwilling into them. It is a role meant for protection. For those who seek to escape their old bonds. Ask for their stories and you will hear the same answer often enough. Running from a fate worse than this one.”
Mercury’s voice remained icy. “Voluntary shackles are shackles nonetheless.”
Arber gave him a long, silent look. “So they are,” they said. There was fury hidden somewhere in that voice. “We are all bound by our surroundings in one way or another, though. Choosing one's bonds is freedom.”
“Some bonds, yes. Interpersonal ones, I agree. Even dutiful ones, sure. But the inability to ever cast them aside?” He shook his head. “That is something entirely cruel to me.”
He saw Alice give a small nod. “Freedom is a precious, fragile thing. Make a shackle too tight and it breaks into a thousand pieces.”
“This is a cruel society, Mercury,” Arber reminded, their voice hollow and without conviction. “Fae aren’t kind creatures. They are known for trickery and enslavement. There are people from your realm killing each other in that corner just over there. Some of the fae would bring humans as their pets. Parade them around.
“It is unfair. But taking the mantle of duty in a house such as this? It is at least safe. That is what I guarantee. It is a heavy shackle to wear, but many do so willingly.”
“Some do not.”
“Some do not,” Arber nodded. “Some seekers do not wish to fight monsters. Some farmers do not wish to farm. Some inkeeps do not wish to cook. Life is imperfect, Mercury.”
“Imperfections which people can change, if they have the will to do so,” he said.
Arber stared at him for another long moment. “This is truly what you wish to get held up on?”
Mercury met that featureless gaze without hesitation. “It is. There is nothing, Arber, nothing I cherish more than freedom.”
Slowly, the mannequin turned away. “Not everyone does,” they said. There was a long, uninterrupted moment of silence again. “I don’t,” they almost whispered, just barely loudly enough for Mercury to hear. The mannequin slumped slightly. “Sometimes, people pick safety over freedom. I admire your conviction, Mercury, to stare at death and say you’d rather take that than be anything less than free. But I can’t mimic it. Does that make me a lesser being?”
Their question seemed almost like a plea. Mercury stared right back. While Arber had slumped, he stood more straight. “No, it does not. A choice where your life is at stake is not a choice at all. A system in which safety comes at the cost of freedom is one that must be torn down,” he said, simply.
At that, he felt the mannequin stand a bit straighter again, just a little. “I see. Thank you, friend.”
Then the moment passed, and Arber adjusted their captain’s hat. Mercury felt there was a new feather added to the plume, but he wasn’t quite sure. Arber paused for another moment. “Is there anyone else you would like to mingle with?” they asked.
“Let’s make it a quiet evening,” Mercury said, giving half a sigh.
It was, of course, a busy evening.
- - -
By the end of the night, Mercury had turned down a dozen challenges, half of them by mindless youths, who had nothing to wager and wanted half his Skills, the other half by the older fae, representing courts he had defeated or bartering for secrets in challenges he could never win.
Seriously, how did one of the leading keepers of the void think that challenging him to a fight against the void would go? Mercury knew he’d just die, and that was that. He’d be another number on that fae’s status sheet, maybe enough to give another level to an already strong Skill.
So, in the end, the only challenge he had coming up was that against Odvye. So, he got through the night, feeling a bit better once all three of his ystirs got a chance to rest. He woke up with far fewer of the muscle pains he had gotten so used to, and felt almost ready to tackle the day.
Of course, he still cycled his ystirs. At least the breakfast was calm. Not too soon, the time to step out into the fields of challenge already came.
