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Chapter 176: Slices of Cake
🕑 Added 2023-12-23 00:12:53 +0000 UTCChapter 176: Slices of Cake
Midas walked into the small house, looking around, and judged it… inadequate. The furniture was made from regular wood, without any decorations. The cushions on it were entirely mundane. Nothing magical or comfortable.
The ceiling and the floorboards of the upper floor were one and the same. In the kitchen, there wasn’t even any cushioning to dampen the noise of anyone above. It was also low. Well, he could easily stand, but he knew Zagan’s true form would never have fit inside here.
There was also a kitchen in the dining space. Would their chefs be so regularly allowed into the common spaces?
… It struck him that, perhaps, they planned to do much of the cooking themselves. Which was a very, very strange thought. He had only ever procured food for himself when he had first dropped into this world. His unique Skill <Hand of Gold>, very quickly earned him enough money to buy some real estate and find people to work for him.
He blinked in confusion at the stove. Who’d want to operate that themselves? But the moment passed quickly, as he reminded himself his life was currently at stake.
They walked up the stairs, to the second floor. The house did have a second floor, just as he’d reckoned, but… the ceiling was slanted. They were right underneath the roof. Surely that couldn’t be comfortable? He looked to the sides of the room and saw how low the ceiling got. What a strange way to build. He far preferred straight roofs.
Which, granted, was about the only thing in his life he liked “straight”. There was beauty to be found in all humans.
Some of them only really sparkled when turned to golden statues, though.
At that thought, he felt a brief flare of death washing over him. Midas staggered in his walk, gasping for breath, as his legs failed him for a single second. Fuck. He’d fucked up. He was gonna die, he was-
Terror slipped away as quickly as it’d come. Midas gasped for breath. He felt sweat on his skin. With an iron grip, he reigned in his thoughts, refraining from any further judgement. He looked to their destination, a small table surrounded by plush chairs. Those looked comfortable, at least, if still mundane. He really tried to not think his disapproval too loudly.
“Alright. Here we are. Sit down, you three, I’ll grab some cake,” the mopaaw - Mercury, said.
Following the way the furball pointed with one leg extended, Midas took his seat upon one of the chairs. He was glad to be wearing his gloves, because that way, the chair did not turn to solid gold immediately. That might have ended with him falling through the ceiling, which would be thoroughly uncomfortable.
Then, Mercury left to go downstairs and fetch the cake he’d promised. Midas looked after him as he left. The moment the thing vanished down the steps, he felt a shiver run down his back.
Slowly, the greek once-king turned to face guardian Friaminth. The man’s countenance was as beautiful as it had always been, the kind that Midas would not have hesitated to ask out. Unfortunately, that beauty was currently only matched by the absolute fury set into his features.
If looks could kill- well, actually. If the guardian wished, his look could probably kill Midas. A swift blitz of fire would do just that, in fact. He swallowed, heavily, dryly. The guardian regarded him, up and down, a cold look in his eyes.
“I will have you know my partner is kinder than me,” the man said, with a countenance that left only one thing to the imagination: the brutality of the death one may die. “I warn you to not abuse that kindness. If you try, you will pay. Simple as.”
There was a finality to that statement, enhanced by the frostyness the dragon’s expression held. Midas was under no illusions. This creature was ready to destroy him the moment he stepped out of line.
He glanced over at Zagan. His companion was more volatile than him. Less attached to life. Fewer Skills to read others and an obliviousness to implied threats. Yet, despite that, Zagan also seemed scared. She shrunk into her chair, just a little.
Midas spoke, for both of them or so he hoped. “We understa- understand, sir.” His voice had cracked. Fuuuuck, why did his voice have to crack? He sounded like a drowning frog making a fool of himself. “We will give your partner the respect he deserves,” he said, his voice more even, trying to salvage the situation.
Zyl regarded him for a long moment. “Give twice that, and maybe I will consider forgiving you.”
Midas hastily nodded, afraid for his life. Zagan, however, spoke, and Midas felt a part of himself die the moment she opened her mouth. “How much respect does the mopaaw deserve, though?”
The dragon snapped his head over to her. There was a long, icy look. Footsteps came up the stairs. He spoke before Mercury came back. “Every bit you are able to give.”
Zagan seemed to wish to contest this, but Mercury came back up the stairs.
He carried four plates, and multiple pieces of cutlery around himself. Small forks, spoons, and even butter knives. The plates held slices of cake, which did truly look good. Midas enjoyed the delicacies this world offered, some of them far greater than he had ever tasted back in Greece, since there were Skills to enhance cooking further than it reasonably should have been able to go.
“I, uh, didn’t know which kinda cutlery you would like, so I brought it all. Do you eat cake with spoons or forks? I’m a fork person myself, but I do know spoon people exist out there, you know? So I wanted to be sure,” he said.
The… mundanity of his statement struck Midas as odd, and he would have chuckled or laughed if he was not entirely sure that the guardian may strike him down the moment he was out of line.
Instead of dooming himself, he spoke politely. “I’ll take a fork, please, master Mercury.”
There was a small pause, as the plates, which had been slowly hovering up and down and in tiny circles around the cat stopped, frozen in the air. Fuck. Had he misstepped? Where exactly had he misspoken? Wasn’t he respectful enough? He’d-
“You, you don’t need to call me master. I’m no one’s master at all, really,” Mercury said, with a hint of sadness in his tone.
An old wound? Damn. He looked to the guardian. The man’s expression was grave.
“Right, of course, Mercury. Thank you,” Midas said, a bead of sweat rolling down his nape.
The cat gave a small expression. It… might have been a smile. “Alright. Here you are.” The plate landed in front of Midas, taken through the air by an invisible hand, and the once-king admired the amount of control Mercury had over his <Telekinesis>.
“I’ll take a spoon, please,” Zagan said. Midas resisted rolling his eyes. She ate everything with spoons. Even meat. She would have it sliced or slice it first, then eat it with a spoon. He did not understand why.
Still, it elicited a larger maybe-smile from Mercury. It seemed as though his expression said “I knew spoon-cake-eaters existed!” but the words that actually left his mouth were: “Of course, here you go.”
Zagan nodded and thanked him, as mercury placed another plate down in front of Zyl, and the final one at another open spot at the table, in front of a chair which he promptly hopped onto.
Without much hesitation, the cat controlled the fork to eat a bite of cake. Midas and Zagan had waited for him to start, and now, somewhat hesitantly, ate their own cake. The old king did briefly consider whether it was poisoned, but really, one look at the guardian told him that their death would not be from the food they ate today.
Somewhat gently, Midas poked his fork into the cake. It tasted good. He took a deep breath.
Guardian Friaminth, too, did something very similar. He chewed, swallowed, then laid his gaze onto the two guests in his house. “Now that you’re comfortable, shall we begin this discussion?”
Immediately, the mood settled again, into a mildly uncomfortable silence. It lasted for a dozen seconds, then another dozen.
Finally, Zagan took a breath and broke it. “I sent assassins after you, Mercury, in order to assist with the plan to acquire guardian Friaminth’s spark. I wanted it because I found it would be beautiful, and a nice addition to my collection of artpieces. For my involvement, I owe the both of you a sincere apology. I know my words will not do it justice, so we have brought you small housewarming gifts as well.”
For a moment, Mercury moved to speak, but Zagan continued. “Yes. Those gifts will never be able to make up for what almost happened to you. My actions were cruel and selfish. I see that now. Some of that is in my nature as a demoness. Yet, clearly, I acted in excess, and for that, I am sorry.”
Zylnareth nodded at her, as she closed all eight of her eyes and bowed, deep. Her nose touched the cake. She had not seen it since her eyes were closed.
Mercury chuckled at that. “Please, raise your head. It’s no biggie,” the mopaaw said. There it was again, Midas noted. That disjointed note of mirth. How was this little ball of fur so calm being told someone tried to kill him?
Zagan, though, did as she was told. With a quick use of <Telekinesis>, Mercury directed a napkin to wipe the cream off her nose. Midas, however, was still focused on lord Friaminth, and because of that, he noticed the hint of a frown that creased his face.
For a moment, he feared for his life. Then, Midas realized it wasn’t that at all. Zyl felt a little jealous at his boyfriend dabbing someone else’s nose. No, not jealous, really, he just wanted Mercury to do the same to him. How… strange.
But the emotion on Zyl’s face vanished a moment later, and the dragon regarded the once-king with a stony countenance. Right, time for him to apologize as well, then.
“As an advisor and member of lady Zagan’s court for many years, some of the responsibility of her actions lays with me. I am deeply sorry for my part in what has happened.”
He bowed, as well, though his nose did not touch the cake. He didn’t want it to turn to gold, after all.
Zyl gave an imperceptible nod at that. “Fine. Your apologies are taken into consideration,” he said.
“Forgiven,” Mercury added. His boyfriend grumbled a little, but quietly. “Seriously. It’s not that big of a deal. There were like… twenty assassins there. One more or less wouldn’t have made the difference.”
Midas was stunned, and he was sure his mouth hung open a little. HOW! How had that little creature survived an attack by twenty elite assassins from the forces of dragons and demons?! What in the absolute FUCK was up with that?!
Once again, he was forced to re-evaluate his opinion of Mercury. The man of gold swallowed once more, heavily. He slowly raised himself again, looking into the mopaaw’s eyes and glimpsing a vast infinity behind it. What kind of things did one have to see to get those kinds of eyes?
Regarding the creatures in front of him, a sudden awareness filled king Midas.
A knowledge that none of them were human.
Certainly, the guardian’s guise was almost perfect, but that aura of fear was something unique to dragons. He could conjure up terror, knowledge of impending death in a moment, simply by unveiling a hint of his fury. He was unfathomable, untouchable, like a vast spire piercing the heavens.
His companion, Zagan, still had something that passed for a human shape. Distorted and imperfect, yes, but it was mostly humanoid. A thin veneer that hid what kind of monster she actually was. But her mind, of course, was not human. He knew her well, of course, given how long they had spent under one, admittedly very large, roof. But he knew she didn’t think the same way he did.
But only one of those creatures in front of him wore their nature on their sleeve.
Mercury looked displeased when he was displeased, he looked happy when he was happy, he looked sad when he was sad, and he always looked like he hid some unfathomable secret that was not for the human mind to know. Perhaps, once, that creature had been human, but now? Midas struggled to think of him as one.
Just then, that almost-human turned to look at him.
Those purple, star filled, nebula-like eyes locked onto the once-king. He began to sweat, a little suddenly unable to read the mopaaw’s emotions.
“You. I haven’t heard your name yet, actually,” he said, his voice soft.
Oh. Okay. That was manageable. “I am Midas,” he said, waving his hand. “A pleasure to-”
“MIDAS?! As in, like, the king Midas? The one that turns everything he touches to gold?” Mercury asked.
The once-king was a little stunned. “I don’t think I was ever a king on this world.”
“On this world? Holy crap. You’re from Earth.”
“Earth?” Midas asked again, confused. That word didn’t translate properly, not through <Language>.
“Sorry. Uhm. Greece? Does that ring a bell?”
Midas leaned back in his chair, far back, his face suddenly sullen. Ah. This… thing, in front of him. Mercury. He knew about Greece. Was he also from there, then? Surely not. He didn’t speak like someone from Greece, he spoke like a creature who had seen things beyond what he ever wished to imagine.
The once-king took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I lived there, once, a lifetime ago. But now, I live here.”
“Right, right. Of course. Just… crazy. We heard legends of you, you know?”
“Legends?” Midas asked, his curiosity sparked.
“Yeah! When I lived, well, the ancient civilization of Greece had been gone for about two thousand years.”
“WHAT!!” Midas stood up in shock, moving the chair back and almost throwing it over.
Mercury blinked at him, his face turning sad. “Ah. Right. Yeah, sorry. I lived… long, long after you. Ancient Greece was… ahead of its time. But eventually, Rome came around and… well. Things happened, and eventually, Greece wasn’t really a thing anymore.”
Midas simply blinked.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Mercury quickly added, “Greece was still around. Much smaller, of course. Your language changed, using different letters and such, but your language was literally the basis of all languages. Which is cool. But your legacy lived on.”
A tear fell onto the floor from Midas’ eyes. “I wasn’t forgotten.” He said the words, softly, like a wish carried away by the wind. “I wasn’t forgotten.”
Zagan looked at him, and all eight of her eyes held empathy. Bits of happiness, for him. Zylnareth regarded him coldly, still, a little less now. Mercury, though, somewhere deep in those unfathomable eyes, there was a spark of kind understanding. A like minded wish to be remembered.
He may be more human than midas had given him credit for.
“You were.” Mercifully, Mercury left out how his story was one of warning, and probably twisted by history, anyway. His old world didn’t have magic, after all.
There was another brief lull in the conversation, then. Midas took a few breaths, then sat down, heavily. He looked like he was conflicted, ten years younger and ten years older at the same time. Remembering things he loved, and ones he would rather have left buried.
For a minute or two, he buried his face in his hands, simply focussing on breathing. In and out, and in and out. Somehow, it felt easy to do around Mercury, for whatever reason. Like his Breath came easier.
Eventually, he raised his face, his expression more neutral, again. “Thank you for this, Mercury. It appears I am in your debt twice over.”
The mopaaw smiled. “You’re fine, you’re fine. Surely, those housewarming gifts will take care of one of those debts?”
Midas smiled, as well, and nodded. “Of course, your gifts. Here.”
He handed over the paintings, the chocolates, and the bottle of not-champagne, placing them on the table. His cake still sat mostly uneaten, though Mercury had eaten his whole slice by now. The mopaaw looked at the chocolates and his eyes sparkled. Midas smiled.
“I am glad you seem to like the gifts.”
Zyl nodded at the paintings. “These are quite beautiful. Can you point us where you found them?”
“Of course. It’s a small stall in the market district, three crossings south of the Merchants’ Guild, then down a small alley. You’ll know it’s the right alley when you find it painted with a large crown. The stall is in a strange little expanse between buildings, like a clearing in a forest,” Midas explained.
The dragon nodded again, in thanks. “Alright, then. Thank you. We have received your apologies. You aren’t forgiven-”
Mercury rolled his eyes. “Zyl. I said it’s fine, didn’t I? I don’t wanna play these games.”
Lord Friaminth looked at mercury for a moment, his expression softening. “Fine, fine,” he said, his voice suddenly gone from stoic to melodic. “You tell them off, then, see ‘em out, okay?”
“Thanks, love,” Mercury said, smiling. Then, he turned to their guests again. “Alright! You two. Clearly, I’m not exactly pleased with what you did. But I’m willing to leave it in the past. Don’t send assassins after me again. Don’t threaten people in general, maybe, if you can avoid it.
“I might be willing to forgive you, but the world won’t always. And I don’t take kindly to people abusing my trust, so please don’t do that.” The words were spoken kindly, but there was an edge to that request. Midas knew there would be no easy forgiveness a second time around.
“Try to be good people or something. Thank you for the gifts. Please finish your cake quickly, or just leave it and head out. If you need anything else, you know where to find us.”
Midas nodded. “Thank you, Mercury.”
Zagan nodded, agreeing. “Thank you.”
The mopaaw regarded them both. “It’s fine, really,” he said, with an even tone that Midas couldn’t identify the intentions of. He looked at Mercury’s eyes. A mistake. They were deep, unfathomable, threatening to swallow him up- “You don’t need to thank me with words. Uhm. Show your gratitude by being… kind to others? I’d like that.”
This time, Midas could identify the desire behind that statement. A clear request. That was good, he liked to repay his debts. He stood up, pushing his chair aside. “Yes,” he readily agreed, “this is something I am willing to do. I will pay your kindness forward. Thank you.”
Zagan followed suit, standing up a little less elegantly, and blinking all eight of her eyes. “I will try to be kind.”
“That’s enough for me. Now, shoo, get outta here, I’m tired,” the mopaaw said, waving them away with a smile that told Midas he was giving them an easy way out.
The once-king didn’t wait for the once-human to repeat himself.
- - - - - -
“I think you went a little easy on them, Mercury,” Zyl remarked when the others were gone.
The mopaaw gave a shrug. “Eh. I think it’s fine. They seemed ready and willing to accept my suggestions. They were terrified, you know?” There was a small accusation in those words.
Zyl had the decency to blush. “I… suppose maybe I scared them a little too much?”
“Mhmmm,” Mercury hummed agreement. “I can take care of myself, Zyl. If I wanted them terrified, I would’ve just used <Witness> again.”
“Right, yes. I understand.” He sounded dejected.
Mercury pressed his snout against Zyl’s cheek. “Hey. Don’t worry. It’s okay. You were trying to protect me. I love you for that. I’m just saying you can also trust me.” He pressed his snout against Zyl’s cheek again.
A smile slowly crept across the dragon’s lips. He extended a hand and ran it across Mercury’s head and back, happily. “Thank you.”
“Of course, silly.”
The moment lasted tenderly a while longer, and the two cuddled a little, before sharing the remaining bits of cake.
- - -
Slowly but surely the day drifted by. Mercury did not do a lot, other than rest. Tomorrow he would go learn more smithing, but not today. That… talk had taken a lot out of him. Really, he just wanted to sleep, and so he did.
That day, when he slept, he found himself in that space in his mind, where he always found himself, and across from him was an ancient construct, made from thousands of rocky veins. It twisted to face Mercury, the veins distorting into a facsimile of a smile. It would have been terrifying, if Mercury couldn’t read his teacher’s emotions.
There was happiness, radiant and bright like a second sun in the sky. An amount of pride Mercury wished he had ever gotten in his life, for an accomplishment he knew he’d earned.
Mercury smiled.
‘Hello, old Uunrahzil.’
- - - - - -
Somewhere else, not too far off from Mercury’s mind, something stirred. Something old, yet young, something fast and playful and with a desire to move.
A young boy stirred in a field of flowers. His friends were all around him, tired, sleeping, save but unable to play. That was fine, he let them rest there.
He turned to the horizon, to a city that he saw not too far away. His city, the one with high walls he always needed to climb over.
Something stirred at the edge of the running boy’s mind. Something strange, something foreign, something he loved and hated.
There was a storm in his city. A bit of <Rainfall>, yet that storm understood his <Wind>.
He cocked his head. How curious. Was this someone to play with, or a storm that needed purging from his city?
There was but one way to find out.
