While Linden prepared the meal, Thadus stayed as far as way as he could. He did not want to see that carcass any more. The stench of blood and death was nauseating. It reminded him of the mortal market, only now he had to see the whole corpse. He wouldn’t be able to keep his food down if that visage was burnt into his mind. The scent was far worse when so close to it as well.
He considered briefly to rid himself of both Linden and the carcass, but he was determined to get his money back. He wouldn’t rest before he had been repaid. Linden also still owed him for getting them their token back, which had been more troublesome than the favour they had done for him.
All debts needed to be paid, all favours return with equal value. This was a matter of fact, and Thadus refused to let this go past him even for the tragic sum of s handful of silver.
There were no other mortals nearby, and even less people, and the grass was mostly dead or barely struggling, wilted and yellowing. Aside from the vine wrapped around his limbs and torso, there were no flowering plants as far as he could sense. He saw a single willow bending over a deeper and wider section of the river, but most were the conversational aspens that had the occasional wind spirits rustling their leaves to have them chatter even more. Further away from the water, there was not even a single tree growing as far as he could see. The only things he could make out were a few mills, and the high bell tower found in Rockforge.
Having studied this environment, he found it a rather tragic display, regardless of the time of year. He thought for a moment and then broke off a part of one of the three vines he had left. He crouched and motioned at the ground with a flick of a finger. An indentation appeared and be placed the cutting in it, most of it sticking up. This vine was not fond of being buried deeply.
He watered it and watched. Studied it. He noted no changes in it. This was to be expected.
The vines coiled around him, uninterested in what he did with the little offspring of the plant he had cultivated and carried on his person. To it, it was no different than one cutting one’s hair. One would seldom care what happened to the hair one no longer had on one’s head.
He touched the cutting with his finger. Even as he offered the shoot magic, it didn’t grow or take root. This, too, was wholly expected. This shoot had been originally cultivated and raised in Eden and its soil. But it also confirmed what Thadus already understood.
He sniffed.
Thadus knew no magic to fertilise the land, but he knew what plants needed. Although, as the soil was such a poor quality that his gluttonous vine would rather wither away, he doubted he could even bring half a grass seed to life, and he had no plans to attempt something so futile anyhow.
Mortals had truly cared poorly for the spirits of these lands. The lack of water spirits seemed not to be only at Rockforge. He could connect to a few, the stream being the most ancient and powerful, but a river was still only a stream. It did not water a whole region.
There were so many earth spirits, but barely a single water one. Who would have thought one could drive water sprites away?
This explained the lack of any water sprite in Rockforge, yet it explained nothing.
He placed a hand to the ground, calling for the distance water sprites deep within. As he once more reached their consciousnesses, he gave them a simply command:
Resurface.
Many moments later, water broke through the ground in spots, causing small puddles as the curious spirits came to see which human was calling to them.
Why have you abandoned this land? he asked silently. In what ways have the vermin offended that what’s sacred?
He received no answer. About this, he took no offense. These spirits could be older than life itself. It would be discourteous to demand answers of his own elders, and more so spirits predating the elders of his elders. But it was not so to ask a more specific question.
Why have the water spirits left the city?
The water responded with disfavour and discomfort.
Having received this vague reply, Thadus asked no more. He lengthened his sceptre and used the water magic it had been soaked in previously to conjure a cloud of cleansing rain above this patch of grass as a gesture of gratitude for their patience, and offered his sincerest apologies for the foolishness of mortals as a rudimentary gesture.
The thought made his fingers itch with the need to return to Rockforge and set it all on fire after all.
Albeit not spellcasters, mortals were still humans, and so was Thadus. As much as he had his misgivings, he was representative of the human species to these spirits, and as such, while it was not his doing to have made the waters of this land scarce, to have brought it contamination and disrespect, he had to show the respect that had been in lengthy absence while the matter was in mortal hands.
Though with this, he had done his part for the vermin, and he wouldn’t interfere any more. Let the water spirits leave if they liked. He took no responsibility for what happened before his arrival, nor what happened after his departure. Any more than this and he’d have every mortal owe him for his benevolence.
And he had no plans of being benevolent to the very venom to the spirits, anymore than he allowed pests in his garden. He didn’t rid himself of vermin that did him no harm outside of his estate, yet he certainly wouldn’t be kind to it no matter what. He considered this matter much the same.
If they one day set their whole region on fire, the mortals could only blame themselves. May their city-state burn for all he cared. This was not a matter anyone else ought to bother with. Least of all him.
He turned away from the localised rain with an offended huff and left it to the elements themselves to deal with. If the winds desire it elsewhere, they were welcome to move it. It was no longer his matter to handle. It wasn’t his own garden, after all. The spirits here would know where they deemed the rain most suitable. It wasn’t up to him to decide what the spirits valued most.
He retrieved his magic from his sceptre, and the tool shortened to its original length. A breeze brought a chill to him, and he pulled Linden’s cloak closer to his person. He missed the study at his estate. It was rather modest, with only a couple of thousand of tomes he had procured in the years since he entered Paradise Tower, and the room had floor to ceiling windows for sunlight at day for the various flowers he kept there. But rather than the flowers, the books and the view of his garden through his window, he missed the one fireplace that he had in there to keep his more fragile spirits warm over the winter.
“There you are,” he heard a soft voice. Linden then jogged into view. “Are you cold, Lord Thadus? Don’t you remain now. It is not the time to be stubborn.”
Linden was ushering him back to the camp without waiting for a reply.
Not once had someone had the gall to treat him as if he was a small child since many days passed. He can’t have been more than three or four the last time someone found it suitable. What insolence of this vermin!
The grip around his sceptre tightened.
Debts need to be paid, he reminded himself. Debts need to be paid, and I will make them pay.
And, unfortunately, this mortal was the only relic wielder he may ever meet. He needed to learn more about this matter. It may answer one or two of the questions he had in his book. Because surely he had written one or two or five questions that had arisen over time onto the page, and although it was yet to tackle those matters, opportunity meant he could forgo the order of his wonderings.
This mortal still owed.
Still.
“I have finished with the game. I offer my sincerest apologies that I brought Lord Thadus discomfort. I am grateful for the stone slab, however. We can consider these equal efforts put into making the meal — when travelling without servants, one always has to pull one’s own weight, so to speak, and take a share in matters such as feeding oneself,” Linden continued. “I have tethered Courage, so you need not be afraid of him either, Lord Thadus.”
“I am not afraid of your dirty little horse.”
“Then that was my misjudgment. Nonetheless, the dirty little horse is now tethered and cannot bother you if you stay away from it,” they replied with a smile in the voice.
Thadus sniffed.
He reminded himself again: The mortal still owed him.
He could use that.
He should use that.
He would use that.
Right now.
“You owe me a favour,” Thadus said.
Linden paused in their ushering, but still spoke in a gentle voice. “Indeed, and I offer my services to Lord Thadus. May he ask of me anything he would like. As long as it is not robbery, I can agree to much.” They then motioned in the direction of the camp. “Now, let us return to the camp and warm you up. I would be unable to watch Lord Thadus get chilled in good consciousness.”
Thadus was uninterested in what Linden preferred. “How much would you tell me about it, were I not to invoke a favour?”
“‘It’?” Linden looked confused, furrowing their brow, colourful eyes searching for an explanation in Thadus’ face. Then, abruptly, their eyes brightened with understanding. “Oh, the wielding thing? The one you mentioned to be related to relics or some such? I do not know how much I can indeed explain to you. However, I can speak of it in general terms and mayhap answer a few questions.”
“And if I do?”
“I will have to ponder about it, if you would not mind,” they said apologetically. “There may be a matter or two that I ought not to speak of too much. I implore Lord Spellcaster not to immerse himself too much in mortal troubles.”
“I don’t care for mortal troubles. You tell me about what I want to know. The rest doesn’t matter.”
“Some things, Lord Thadus, are not separable. One cannot separate a king from his reputation, even if his reputation may have nothing to do with his person. I am mortal. Mortal troubles concern me and what I know will be inherently intertwined in who I am. All I know will inherently relate to mortal interest and involvement.”
Thadus bristled at the implication that knowledge was tied to mortality. This he refused to believe. He flicked the cloak as he strode ahead of Linden, unwilling to entertain this lowly mortal, who could have been a lower kin had they wanted to, yet refused to accept they could be of higher status than mortal.
— What is the wet, scary human talking about? Humble One, tell me. I don’t understand.
— Child, he is curious about you. He wants to know how you can communicate with some humans and why. He wants to study your spirit and take you away to take your body apart to understand your enchantment.
— …Really? I don’t want that! I want to stay with Humble One! I don’t know why Humble One can speak to me either! Humble One just was there always.
— …You are fine with being disassembled?
— I am already disassembled.
— …Child, your body is split and cracked. That is not disassembly, silly child…
— What is it then?
— How does one explain it in the simplest terms for foolish children who can’t tell one thing apart from another? Ah, perhaps “looking for your enchantment” will do?
— Is that bad?
— Young child, you truly have much to learn, still.
— Because I am young!
— Very well, then. Imagine if your Humble One had the garments removed by someone else. Not just the outer garments, but the undergarments as well. Your disassembly is like this.
— Are they giving Humble One a bath? Will they wash Humble One’s hair? Humble One enjoys getting their hair washed.
— I truly do not understand your Humble One’s patience with you, foolish child…