The song was a Viennese waltz.
Or whatever the local equivalent was.
Though with Joseph running around, it actually could be a Viennese waltz…
The dance was a thodical thing, with dipping, and bowing, and hands-outing. Elvish traditional dance favoured flamboyant dancing, with lots of gestures and twirling. It looked like slow-motion flanco.
“Okay, how are you so good at this?” Mirelda asked, laughing as she spun the wrong way and bumped into a neighbour. Said neighbour was too drunk to care, and spun off in the opposite direction.
I bowed perfectly to the beat of the music. “Duke Barnes made practice as part of prep. Many an hour wasted away when I coulda been workin’ on brewin’.”
“Well, it wasn’t a total waste, this is fun!” Mirelda singled out a belfess across the floor and began copying her motions carefully. We managed to complete the rest of the set without any more incidents, and maybe even looked good doing it.
As the music ran down and the musicians took a short break we stepped away from the dance floor. I was sweating quite profusely, and Mirelda had hit that midpoint between disheveled and attractive. I grabbed a passing gelf waiter who was carrying a tray covered in familiar green glasses.
“Please be warned, sir, that this drink has a side effect – “ he began, but I cut him off.
“I know, shh shh, you’ll ruin the surprise.” I held a glass out to Mirelda. “Here you go. One sweet apple cider after a hard workout, just what the doctor ordered.”
Mirelda glanced down at the glass with suspicion. “I thought apples kept the doctor away.”
I gave her a big smile and twinkling eyes. Her eyes narrowed further.
“Just try it!” I wheedled.
“What was that waiter saying about side effects?” She said, searching the crowd.
I puffed out my chest in mock offence. “It’s the cider I made, would I really poison all these dignitaries? The side effect is getting drunk.”
“I don’t think you’d poison anyone, but I wouldn’t put it past you to prank all these dignitaries.” She sighed. “I heard about the last big party you put on. So people were stuck together for ages.”
I shuffled my feet. “That wasn’t my fault. Here, I’ll drink it first. Cheers! For Crack and Annie!”
So saying, I downed the drink, enjoying the fizz and sweetness as it ran down my gullet. I smacked my lips, “Ah! Perfect! Reminds of Okanagan Springs! Now, try it fer yerself!”
“I love Okanagan Springs…” Mirelda mused as she stared into her glass. “Why is it so green? Ugh, fine, whatever, I’m thirsty, and I’ll need a bit of a buzz to make it through the night.”
So saying, she took a small sip of the cider, then a big gulp. When she ca up for air she exclaid, “Phew! That’s delicious! Finally, a sweet cider!”
“Right!” I grinned.
“Is that malple? It tastes like…” Her voice ran off as she stared at my face.
“Hmmm?” I asked, innocently.
“Your face…” She petered out, her eyes glancing around the room.
Which didn’t help, since almost everyone already was green.
“Can I interest you in so green eggs and ham?” I quipped.
She looked down at her drink, then laughed. “Damn you! Do I look green too??”
I grinned. Her face was rapidly turning the sa shade of green as our elven hosts. I personally found it looked better with her blonde hair than the usual elven red it accompanied. “You look like a most fetching helf.”
“Helf?”
“Human shaped elf,”
“Oh, that makes sense. Eesh, I’m a writer, I should've co up with sothing sooner. Keeping them straight in my head has been a chore.” She rolled her eyes.
I nodeed. “Helves, gelves, belves, and dwelves is what I call ‘em.”
“What about drelves?” She asked, curiously.
“Dragon elves? They aren’t exactly common.”
“With a little work to make our ears pointy, could we pass as elves?” She asked, glancing at her now viridian fingers. “This makes for so interesting cosplay. Please tell it doesn’t last long?”
“We might be able to. And nah, it mostly goes away after a coupla hours, and it’s fully gone within a day or two.”
“‘A day or two?’” She mocked. “Half the ladies in here are going to kill you. Ambassador be damned.”
I shrugged. “Eh, the server gave us a warning. I just chose to ignore it and hide it from you.”
“I knew it was a trap,” Mirelda grumbled, then shot back the whole glass. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “But a delicious one. Finally sothing worth drinking that isn’t mysteriously delicious tea and coffee.”
I nodded vigorously. “You should’ve seen the state of beer. It was awful.”
“Oh I know, I tried. That True Brew or whatever was an insult to beer, and I don’t even particularly like it.” She nodded. “But hey, that’s what you were here for, right? So, good job!”
“Right,” I grumped. “Thanks for the reminder.”
Our conversation was interrupted as an elf in the King’s colours approached us.
“Excuse , Ambassador Roughtuff? His Majesty would like to et with you and your companion.”
I took a deep breath, and beside I could feel Mirelda do the sa. Here it was. We’d given it fifty–fifty that the King would ask to see Mirelda alone, the proprieties be damned. The fact that he’d called us together either ant he really didn’t care about her (Joseph and my main hope) or he was just being polite.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked, giving her a concerned glance.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She said, standing stoically and squaring her shoulders.
Then she grabbed another cider from a passing servant’s tray, and gulped it down.
—
We arrived at the doors to the King’s private antechamber off the ballroom just as Ambassador Falith’s delegation was being swept out. Ambassador Falith looked exhausted, but Marco looked thoughtful. As we approached, Marco cleared his throat, and Falith gave an odd look.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Marco opened suddenly with, “do you know how to make ad, dwarf?”
I blinked, then replied, “Aye?”
“Much has beco cleahr about youh,” Marco said, more sedately than I’d ever seen him. “I would speak with youh tomorrow.”
“Uh… I’d need to check my appointnts?” I began.
“Noh, you whill clear them,” Marco interrupted. “I know it.”
“Okaaay…” I gave Falith a pleading look, but the Ambassador just shook his head then jerked his chin towards the King’s room.
“You’ll see. You probably whill want to talk to him tomorrow. I’ll contact the Embassy and set things up. And…” Falith considered his next words, then just sighed. “We whill need to talk, too.”
“Uh, what am I walking into here, Falith? Help a fellow Ambassador out?”
Falith rubbed his ears then yanked on his horns. “All things considered… no.”
With that, he gave a curt nod and dragged Marco away. We waved goodbye as they strutted off.
“That was… foreboding,” Mirelda whispered, a false smile etched onto her face. “Who ate his kibble this morning?”
“Falith has a huge Perception, wait until they’re around the corner and back in the Main Hall,” I muttered back. As soon as they were out of sight, I turned back to the doorway, where a pair of stone-faced guards stood at attention. “And I think… we’re about to find out where the kibble went, and I’m afraid that we’re the wet food.”
“That’s a terrible analogy,” Mirelda hissed as we stepped forward and the guards knocked on the door to announce us.
“I’m a punster, not a writer,” I hissed back. “Rember, if you get a quest, just ignore it.”
And then the doors swung open and we stepped inside. I went through the formal bows once more, Mirelda mirroring my moves. There wasn’t an impressive throne this ti, just a formal sitting room much like the one in the antechamber before the throneroom.
The King was sprawled out on the couch, while motherducking half-naked elven won fanned him and fed him grapes.
Beside , Mirelda choked. I reconsidered the Kill the King Quest. Could I do it? Right now?
Please? “Ah, you made it. Excellent, excellent,” the King waved at two low chairs sitting a ways away from him. “Please, sit.”
We took a seat while he ate a few more grapes then nodded at . “We hear that you’ve invented a new spell that enhances the flavour of grapes. We desire to see the effects.”
A guard approached with a platter and lifted it to reveal so grapes. I snorted, and went to pull out my wand, then paused. “Permission ta grab my wand?” I asked.
“Of course,” the King said, magnanimously.
I pulled out my wand and with a swish and flick, sent so Mana into the grapes. They glowed brightly in my [Manasight] as they were carted away. Probably to be taste tested.
“And this is your companion, Mirelda?” The King said when the guard was out of the room. “I have heard much about her from Lady Laurelstone. You are one of the Chosen Catalysts of the Gods, are you not?” He asked, his tone snapping in a way I recognized as an Ability use.
Bastard.
But it bounced off the layers of enchanted protections we had on Mirelda. She didn’t even twitch as she replied with a smile, “Yes, your Majesty. I’m the Chosen of Midna.”
“And what did She of Many Words wish from you?”
Mirelda’s smile vanished, and her head hung a little lower, her voice pained. “To write books.”
The King arched an eyebrow in interest. “To write? Why? Is the Goddess not pleased with the books of Erd? What could you offer her?”
Mirelda’s fists clenched at her side. “She wished for more variety.”
The king drumd the armrest of his couch. “I see. Are you also from this Earth?”
That was one of those loaded questions. Unfortunately, Berry had already t Mirelda, and she’d probably already spilled the beans about it to her handlers. Gods her oath to the elves made everything just that little bit harder.
Mirelda answered carefully, “From what I’ve heard from Raspberrysyrup, yes, Your Majesty. I’m at least from the sa place as her.”
The King opened his mouth and one of his ladies popped another grape into it. He chewed – elegantly, at least – and the room was silent but for his mastication. When he was done, he smacked, “And what was it you did back on Earth?”
“I was an Author. A sowhat successful one.”
“Was? But not now?”
“No.”
“Interesting. Does the Goddess still speak with you?”
Mirelda’s mouth thinned. “No.”
The King paused for a mont, considering her. He waved at his fanners, and they increased their speed. “Do you have any great knowledge of your world’s ‘Science’ or ‘Technology’?”
Mirelda deadpanned, “Not really. I was a writer, not an engineer.”
The King sniffed. “You continue to say was, but you are still able to write. You can always live again. I have seen to it that your stay in Tree was uninterrupted by those petty Western nobles. There is nothing stopping you from writing.”
Mirelda’s tone grew snippish. “I’ve been trying.”
The King snorted. “Don’t try. Succeed,” He sneered. “Or try sothing different. Your companion has been teaching his craft to others instead of brewing, and is fulfilling the wants of his God that way. If you cannot write, consider teaching the style to the academics at Archis Academy. Why do you Earthers always seem to think that only you can do sothing?”
I stared at him in shock. How did he know that? That’d been my exact problem for like, my entire first couple years here. It’d taken a lot of ntal effort to get over it. The only reason I hadn’t pitched it to Mirelda that way yet was because –
Well, because I wasn’t a douchecanoe. She was still extrely vulnerable, and it’d taken a long ti to get her out of her shell. And now here he was just ripping off the bandaid.
Mirelda looked struck. And the King turned his gaze on . “We have tried your Green Apple Cider. It is excellent, and may actually help improve racial relations. We had our human servants drink of it, and they look half-passable.”
I didn’t roll my eyes. “Thankee, yer Majesty.”
“We have rewarded you for your hard work by encouraging Master Roro to co and present his problem to Us at this venue. We hear that you t him.”
I blinked. “Uh, aye. Thankee.”
The King gave a lazy wave. “We reward where reward is due. It pleases us greatly that all five of the known Chosen are now within Our city, and We wish to keep it that way.”
It took a second. “Five?”
“Yes.”
Mirelda, Berry, Joseph, and . I felt my tongue go dry. “Who, uh, who is the fifth?”
“That would be a secret of the state. Known only to those close to Us.” The King smirked.
I ground my teeth. Dammit. Whatever, I could throw so [Flash of Insights] at it later.
“Your Majesty – “ Mirelda suddenly blurted out, “do you – have you read my book?”
The King’s brow crinkled. “We have. It amused Us.”
Mirelda’s face broke into the first genuine smile she’d had here, and she looked up at the King, then swept her eyes back down. “Really?”
The King drawled, “Especially the line where the Count sneaks into the Duke’s boudoir and – “
I tuned out the rest as the two of them got into the naughty nitty gritties of her smutty romance novel. A few of the lower Charisma servants winced at the graphic details.
I was briefly distracted as my [Map] flashed with sudden activity, and I frowned at it. A red dot had appeared at the edge of my map inside the castle.
Then there were two.
Then three.
Then they started to flash into existence by the dozen.
I felt my heart sink. There was only one thing that made red dots on my [Map].
“Your Majesty – !” I began, terror causing my voice to rise in pitch.
At the exact sa mont, a claxon scread outside, and the guards jumped to surround the King, various [Abilities] firing off at once. I recognized [Aegis], an Ability that’d saved my life once upon a ti.
“There are monsters outside!” I finished shouting.
But he didn’t hear , as a white robed gelf teleported inside the translucent do of force, then vanished with the King and most of his guards.
Leaving Mirelda, , and all the King’s servants standing there. Bereft.
“Pete? What’s happening?” Mirelda quavered, as the servants began screaming and running for the doors.
“We need to get to Balin!” I grabbed her hand and pulled as the klaxons grew louder. “He should be at the end of the hallway! I think it’s – ”
There was a *Bing* as a notification took up my vision.
New Quest: Spiritual Survival
That’s even more spirits here than there are in mywine cellar!
Don’t die!
Stampede Survived: 0/1
Rewards: 1 Vitality.
Do you accept?
Yes / No
User Comments
0 comments from readers