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“Um, Graecie, are you sure you gave me the right key? This is-”
Scott glanced away from the bedroom, its door swung open, towards the knight further down the hallway. The pink silk of her skirt flowed forward as she stuttered in her steps. Graecie sent a wink at Scott over her shoulder and hurried forward. Her grip on Shandrea’s wrist tightened as they escaped, hushed giggles fading into the stairwell.
After a whole day of riding in a carriage, Scott wanted nothing more than to bathe and finally lay down. Owain, guiding the horses, had tried his best at keeping the vehicle steady but he could only do so much against pebbles and uneven terrain. Each rock sent them back and forth. Scott had not anticipated the firmness of Eloise’s shoulders beside his, he expected bruises to bloom there more than where he sat on hardwood.
Unfortunately, Graecie had other plans. How long ago had she thought this up? Did she plan it when they had fallen out of things to talk about, exhausted by doing nothing, or when she had volunteered to get everyone rooms at the inn? Shan and her had been attached at the hip all day, literally, so mayhaps this was a group idea.
“Scott, you alright?”
His hand slipped from the handle as he turned aside. On the bright side, Nom had elected to ride alongside the carriage. Anyone sitting by his side would have been bleeding from the sharpness of his paldrons, in addition to being battered by the rest of his armour.
“Mhm. It just seems like the rogues have been teaching Graecie some tricks.”
The key rattled as Scott pulled it out of the lock and hung it on its hook. He did not have the energy to go deal with the innkeep to fix this. Striding across the rug, Scott drew the heavy curtains closed. The sun had set a while ago already. Nom clinged and clanged into the room after him.
“I- see what you mean now.”
And then both Scott and Nom stood there, eyes glued to the centerpiece of the room. One bed, admittedly the largest Scott had ever seen, sat perfectly plush and inviting. Scott could only think about collapsing into the woolen blankets. In the corner of his vision, Nom’s head alternated between Scott and the bed.
“I can probably get Mae to swap with me. I’ve bunked with 4C before. Or sleep on Owain’s floor-”
Nom rambled on, pushing hair back out of his face. The strands caught on his gauntlet and his words faded into a hiss. Somehow, Scott couldn’t think of a single thing that would make Owain agree to this. Unless he slept with his helmet on. The man protected his privacy about as much as he did Blue Kingdom.
“Bed’s big enough, isn’t it? I don’t mind as long as you don’t.”
After a few seconds of watching Nom struggle, Scott stepped forward and slowly reached for his hand. Nom allowed Scott to help, letting his fingers be bent and moved to release the painful pulls. Scott knew he had some height on Nom, it would be hard to not to notice. However, the man carried himself with such assurance that it never seemed much. And yet, right now, Scott found that his eye level reached just above the top of Nom’s head.
“That’s fine.”
Nom eventually answered, only once Scott had freed him. It took a second for Scott to even remember what he meant, but the crimson pillows reminded him quickly. Sharing the bed. Although they’d had their fair share of vulnerable heart to hearts, they hadn’t gone far in the way of physical intimacy. Scott rather enjoyed it, pulling Mae close when she clung to his arm or embracing Eloise when they met up. Nom had always appeared more reserved in that sense. At least from what Scott had witnessed. Even with 4C, Nom’s closest friend in the kingdom, he didn’t seem to make much contact. Scott respected that.
“You can clean up first, I’ll get our packs from downstairs.”
How could Nom still have the strength to go down and up the stairs after an extended day of riding? Scott had no clue but he graciously took the offer. His legs would give in if he so much as tried climbing steps with the added weight of luggage.
“You can just get the bundle at the top of mine, I don’t need anything else.”
Scott leaned his staff in the corner of the room and unpinned the brooch that kept his cape around his shoulders, carefully folding it. Wrinkles never streaked its fabric but he preferred to keep it tidy and out of the way.
“Prepared, huh? I didn’t think about that.”
Of course he hadn’t. It was Nom.
The knight took the key and exited the room, leaving Scott as he untied the belt at his waist. The closing door muffled a joyful hum. Scott had kept his shears tucked away in his pack, in fear that a bad jolt of the carriage caused injury. He felt almost disarmed without them, although he would never use them as a weapon. The linen of his base layers stuck to his clammy skin when Scott peeled away the thick leather of his bodice. It rarely happened, but the crampedness of the carriage had gotten the best of the normally breathable material. Perhaps he should leave it off for the next day.
In the washroom, Scott found a basin of water, freshly filled, and a block of soap. He much preferred bathing in a running brook or even a pond. However, after the journey, even a muddy puddle would be a delight. He undressed entirely, no longer at risk of Nom’s return behind the locked door, and stripped off the day’s sweat and grime. It had been rather warm and dry, so the horses’ hooves kicked up enough dust for it to stick. He scrubbed until his skin burned pink. He drained out the murky basin, leaving the full jug on the floor for his friend.
A soft rasp on the wood signaled that Nom had returned, leaving his belongings right in front of the door. The cloths provided for drying had intricate sharp patterns lining the edges. In addition to the embroidery and their rich poppy red colour, Scott could wrap himself entirely in a single one. Much less utilitarian than Scott’s plain beige square, back home. Just how much money had they spent on one night’s rest? Not that the kingdom’s treasure lacked gold, but Scott was not accustomed to such luxury.
Distantly, he hoped they might be able to hire a better carriage. The one they used had been stationary under a pile of hay since Scott’s arrival to the kingdom. Only due to the need for group travel had they unearthed it. And thoroughly cleaned. Scott didn’t mind green stains on his clothing, he got them all the time after all, but he doubted Graecie’s silk dress and Eloise’s weightless cape could bear the same fate.
“Um… Scott? I think I’m stuck again. But take your time.”
Came Nom’s voice, muffled from back inside the bedroom. Scott silenced a huff and grabbed the bundle swiftly. He put on his sleep clothes, a loose shirt and trousers in mismatched greens, before emerging. White thread lined the hem brushing his ankles, more akin to stars than the intended daisies in their messiness. Part of Nom’s armour already laid in a pile on the floor, but he had one arm twisted, reaching over his shoulder for a buckle. He had ridden without a cape, instead keeping it rolled up behind him on the saddle. 4C had tried to steal it numerous times during the day, to no avail.
“How do you survive on your own?”
Scott sighed, amused. He put down the neat pile of his worn clothes on the desk. Nom’s position looked painful, pulling at his side this way. The muscle of his arm bulged with effort. Scott hurried to help but his haste caused his downfall. Literally.
As beautiful a combination they created, a soft rug and a waxed parquet made for a treacherous enemy. The floor slipped from beneath Scott’s feet. He reached out to the side, in hopes of grabbing a bed post before his face smashed in.
Instead of either option, a middle ground was reached in the form of two strong hands on Scott’s ribs. The relieved realisation that Nom had already taken off his sharp gauntlets only lasted a moment. He gurgled as Nom’s unexpectedly pointy knee sent his head to the side.
“I am- so sorry-”
Scott remained sat on the floor once Nom released him to press a gloved hand over his mouth in horror. Pain radiated from the corner of Scott’s jaw. He prodded at the area carefully to test the extent of the injury. Nothing felt out of place, broken or bleeding. Just yet another tender spot and momentary dizziness.
“Well, you unstuck yourself, at least.”
Scott pointed out. Part of Nom’s glove appeared to have ripped, whatever part was caught giving in to his sudden movement. It would be hidden beneath his armour, Scott was not concerned. Nom had likely not even noticed, given the still horrified look haunting his eyes.
“I didn’t mean to-”
Scott stood carefully, anchoring himself to the bed for stability. Nom’s hands hovered nearby, just in case.
“To knee me in the throat? I would hope not. A healing spell should take care of it.”
Luckily enough, Scott had made sure it would be ready last night before their departure. He figured it would be handy to have. Although he had expected more of a twisted ankle or scrape on gravel, rather than accidental assault. If anything, it might help the dull throb of the rest of his body.
“Nom. I mean it, I’ll be alright. See?”
Staff in hand, Scott traced the pattern he had learnt from the Red Kingdom healer. A swirl of tiny white flowers, almost pink, enveloped the two of them. All his aches faded at the same time as the snow of valerian. Nom’s shoulders dropped, slowly. He had not trained for horse-riding in a long time, as far as Scott knew, so he must have been sore as well.
“Need help with the buckles?”
Scott offered to prevent Nom from dwelling on the incident any longer. After a beat of hesitation, Nom nodded and presented his back to Scott. One strap of leather folded up, likely the one he had been struggling with. Scott easily pulled the loop out of the metal while Nom worked on the sides. The heavy metal of his chestplate soon released and joined the rest on the floor. The paldrons and greaves came off last. Nom stood there, dazed, but he almost floated with how much lighter he now felt. Scott would not bear all that weight for even an hour.
Scott prompted the knight towards the washroom with a gentle push of the shoulder. Nom, for once, didn’t protest and shuffled over. Scott took that opportunity to gather all of his clothing within his bundle, putting it away in the chest of drawers. He then arranged Nom’s armour to lay nicely on the floor.
Only once the room was back to a tidy state did Scott settle into the large armchair. He sank into the cushions, grabbing the wooden frame in surprise at the plushness. Even the throne hadn’t felt so comfortable, but perhaps the responsibilities had offset it. Too many thoughts had prevented him from enjoying the comforts of kingly life.
One elbow rested on the side, Scott leaned his head into his palm. Golden strands of hair brushed down his face, vision blurred. He pressed lightly against his jaw, fingerpads dancing over his skin, finding it no longer tender. He knew from previous uses of the spell that it would still bloom into a bruise. His healing magic proficiency wasn’t enough to get rid of the marks.
He didn’t mind too much.
It would fade in time…
Scott’s eyes snapped open at the sound of approaching footsteps. He hadn’t even noticed closing them. He reached blindly for his staff, fading into invisibility at the threat. Blinking the sleep away revealed it to be Nom, a towel around his shoulders. He rubbed it against his hair, wet and sticking to his face. He did not notice Scott blinking back into existence, nor the tenseness slowly fading from Scott’s body. Perhaps the lack of glasses. Scott wasn’t used to anyone being around while out of consciousness.
“I was expecting you to be asleep already. You look beat- I mean. Tired.”
Part of that had been Nom himself, after all. Scott had never seen him dressed so casually. A long oxblood red tunic, peppered by stains where water had dripped from his hair, fell over black trousers cinched along the shins. Scott might have been born a few years after him, but Nom had never looked so young.
“Speak for yourself. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t do some stupid selfless thing like sleep on the rug.”
Scott did not doubt for a second that he would. He sat up, as best he could on the soft seat, and pushed out his chest to stretch his spine. It popped in several places. He could definitely say he preferred walking all day than riding a carriage.
“You made a friend.”
Nom neither accepted nor denied it, instead dropping a hand to gesture to Scott’s side. His skin prickled with goosebumps at the idea of another person having snuck beside him while he was asleep. Scott did not find a person, however, but narrow flat leaves waving at the air near him.
“What- Oh. I didn’t even see you. Hello.”
The deep green fern extended its leathery fronds towards Scott, who brushed them softly. They curled at the tips, revealing the dark protrusions beneath, akin to insect legs. Scott knew this type of fern, bundles of them covered forest floors all around Barrowhill and the kingdoms. Hart’s tongue, they were called. Almost sword-like, in a way. Scott looked back over at Nom, whose eyes darted away.
“Should we get to bed now?”
Scott nodded, pushing off the armchair to his feet. The fern sadly retreated to its pot on the side table. Nom dried his hair more aggressively as Scott went around to extinguish the pre-lit lamps, leaving only the flame near the other side of the bed to flicker. He peeled back the layered covers and barely retained a gasp as he sat down.
“Everything in this place is so soft.”
The knitted blanket provided a nice weight over the down duvet as Scott slipped his legs underneath. The mattress did not even shift when Nom joined.
“Woah- you weren’t lying.”
And suddenly, there were two of them in one bed. Admittedly, the space between them could still fit another full person without Scott having to press right up to the edge. When he laid down on his back and stared at the ceiling, he could almost convince himself he was alone. If it hadn’t been for the breating, so close to his ear.
In the dim light of a single wick, hair spread on the pillow like a halo, only red filled Scott’s vision.
“I know we’re not in the kingdoms but this decor feels like… enemy territory somehow.”
He whispered, the atmosphere more conducive to quietness. The sheets ruffled as Nom moved. Which way, Scott had no clue.
“I guess you do stand out more than me.”
Nom mimicked Scott’s volume, a rare occasion for a man who claimed to be loud at any first introduction. Surprisingly, his voice still held a rumble even when so slight.
“Your armour does look nice. I can tell you take good care of it.”
Scott had taken a close look at it when moving it. The dark metal had an iridescent shine that indicated regular polishing, the leather of the straps twisted smoothly with nice hydration and the gold edges shone from continuous touch ups.
“I do. It was a gift from my mother so I- I want to keep it well maintained.”
Like Scott’s cape, then. A way to feel closer to someone even when they were far away. Too far to reach, in his case. The grief had not gone away, sharp as thorns wrapped around his heart, but the cape made it a little better. A reminder that his mum loved him. So much. As if the cape hugged him in her stead.
“She used to be Red. My mam. She came to Blue to be with my dad. That’s why Katie went there. Partly.”
Nom’s voice remained low, steady, although he struggled to organise his thoughts. Scott hummed to show he was listening, afraid to turn and face Nom like this. He had wondered how Katie could have been willing to leave the place where she had grown up for the opposing kingdom. If she had some kind of tie there, Scott could understand the logic. Not fully, still. He would never have left Barrowhill if he hadn’t been mandated to.
“Where are they now? Your parents?”
It felt a loaded question to ask, considering how many of the original kingdom members had been orphaned in the war, or even prior. Scott knew it well.
“They have been travelling for some years. I get pigeons every few months and they’re always in a new place. I can’t really answer, they usually leave before my letters reach them.”
Now that, Scott couldn’t imagine. Having them be alive, knowing where they are somewhat, that you both care for each other, and yet not being able to say any of it? His heart tightened just at the thought. His eyes stung.
“I’d like to visit the world like that someday.”
So they don’t even know what happened with Katie, Scott wanted to ask.
“When we get to Birgrandia, we can explore together.”
He said instead. Scott had never been far from his hometown until joining Blue Kingdom, so this was his first time travelling such a distance. They had been invited as the Blue Kingdom court to celebrate their lasting alliance. Despite the long journey, Scott looked forward to it. Perhaps he would be able to join Graecie when she met up with Legundo. The parcel elf seemed to have seen so much and met so many people. Scott wanted another elf’s perspective on matters of the world.
“Let’s do that.”
Things fell quiet after Nom’s distracted answer. Scott’s eyelids heavied, falling as leaves in autumn. The candle crackled from the other side of the bed and he distantly thought about blowing it out. He couldn’t manage to pull himself from the covers, only sinking deeper.
“I’m excited for when we get to the boat.”
Came Nom’s voice, muffled as if his face pressed deeply into the pillow. It probably was. Scott didn’t try to check.
“I’ve never been on a boat. I heard it makes some people sick.”
Carriages used to be that way for Scott, a long time ago. When he accompanied his father to the yearly bustling market held a few cities over. He didn’t much appreciate the crowds but the streets being turned into blooming fields was a worthy sight. As he grew, he had slowly gotten over it. He had also discovered, at the start of the day, that healing spells dispelled it. Eloise had suffered for a fair few moments prior. It had thankfully worked well enough that she could slumber upon his shoulder.
“It can. I’ve been a few times for some missions, it’s such a unique feeling. Like you’re disconnected from the earth.”
Nom rarely showed such genuine excitement. Perhaps the fatigue from the day wore down his defenses. Scott hummed thoughtfully. That description didn’t sound particularly appealing to Scott. He preferred being firmly anchored to the ground than the rocking of the sea. Although maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with good company.
“So you like boats?”
Was the best Scott could muster through the darkness rooted in his head. Despite the need for sleep pulling him in, Scott fought to stay awake. To speak with Nom. Just a little bit longer.
“Yeah. As a kid, I would always build little ones out of leaves or paper and sneak out to put them on the river.”
Before he became a knight, before his parents left, before Katie ran, before he got crushed under metal armour and the responsibilities of his life. Scott could not picture what that young boy might look like. An unburdened Nom felt foreign. It saddened him.
“Don’t like the ocean itself though. I don’t want to go in there.”
Nom’s words slurred a little more. Scott had seen him on the beach below the kingdoms, glaring at the waves that lapped at the sand as if they had wounded him personally. He had always thought it came from the reflections of the sun glinting on the water.
“Just stay away from the railings. Shan will catch you if you fall in, though.”
Scott shuffled onto his side, finally facing Nom. He found his friend already watching him through barely opened eyes. Scott would jump in the roughest storm to pull Nom out himself, if need be. He wondered if algae would obey his spells.
“The rogues will love the rigging. We might struggle to get them off it.”
Nom said instead, dispelling the subject. Scott could only agree, imagining without effort as Mae and 4C chased each other along angled ropes. It would probably only take a day before they started to launch themselves and swing off it. With their acrobatics, they might as well have joined the circus performers that had come to the kingdoms once.
The glow of the flame behind Nom’s head weaved ginger amidst the dark brown of his hair. The contrast made his irises appear a deeper reddish hue. It could have been unsettling if Nom didn’t lay across from him so unguarded. Earnest.
“There’s a flower that your eyes remind me of…”
The tiredness must have been getting to Scott as well, unable to stop his thoughts from slipping out. The unfamiliar surroundings, nothing like his peaceful bedroom, and Nom’s face only an arm’s length away made it all feel like a dream, loosening his tongue. Perhaps he had already fallen asleep without noticing.
“Yeah?”
Nom prompted at Scott’s hesitation, his tone curious rather than disturbed. It only emboldened Scott to leave behind his inhibitions and keep talking. Nothing wrong about telling your friend about plants, after all. He need not feel shame for that.
“It comes from warmer climates south, so I only saw it once. Sword-lily, it’s called. A variety of them has this- rich wine colour.”
The seller had told Scott they represented honour and strength. He didn’t know how much he believed that, as travelling merchants had a tendency to embellish the stories of rare wares. If that was the commonly accepted symbolism, however, it did fit Nom rather well.
“You do love lilies, don’t you?”
Nom said with a huff, eyes a fond crescent. It had never been a secret, with how Scott carried them in his pockets, braided into his hair, planted atop his staff. He gave them to anyone he met as a show of peace and friendship and care. In the short time where the Blue Kingdom monarchy had been in his hands, they had even crowned him.
“They were my mum’s favourite. There’s so many types of them that exist.”
Of course, his own preference fell upon the lily of the valley. The delicate bell-shaped flowers had covered the planted beds alongside both his childhood and current homes. Their gentle shiver in the spring breeze marked Scott’s favourite time of year. The larger petaled ones that Scott wore did not live in the wild around the kingdoms. They, too, originated from further south.
His mother’s love for them had enticed his father to acclimate the flowers, generation after generation of them. An entire growhouse had been dedicated to them for his mother to stroll through. Scott had taken several bulbs with him, although his growing capacities were limited by the weather conditions of Blue Kingdom. His magic came in handy there, if nowhere else.
“Maybe they have different ones in Birgrandia. Owain said the castle gardens have massive greenhouses.”
Scott could look forward to that. Owain had travelled with Legundo before, sent as an emissary to initialise their alliance. He probably had not done much visiting either, but to take notice of a place meant for pleasure, enough to mention it in his report, was touching.
Scott brought up an arm to slip beneath the pillow, adjusting the position of his hips to ease the faded aches of his body. Nom laid on his front, one leg curled beneath him. Scott’s blinks lengthened in duration with each new one, mind too fuzzy to pay any mind to how Nom watched him wordlessly. As he took a deep breath and sighed, chest too full, a memory pushed to the forefront of Scott's mind.
“This reminds me of a friend I had when I was young… He slept over at my house one night and we wouldn't stop talking. Everytime we'd say we should sleep, it was quiet for a few minutes and then started again. We were just so exhausted the next day.”
So long ago, Scott had been friends with the son of the cobbler and the grocer. They had not remained friends, not through ill intent but rather falling apart as they grew. He had left Barrowhill as an adventurous teenager looking to find his place in this merciless world of theirs. Scott hoped he was well, wherever that may be.
“I can't say I've experienced that.”
An amused huff burst alongside Nom’s words, burying their meaning. Scott barely could wonder if he and Katie had shared a bedroom before fabric ruffled behind him.
“What?!”
Scott’s head snapped back over his shoulders. The wooden bedframe creaked and even the soft mattress couldn’t conceal Nom’s powerful jolt to his feet. A shape emerged from the bulging floor-length curtains, indistinguishable under the faltering light of the candle.
“We need to fix this right now- Woah, easy there, Nom.”
A second silhouette made it out of the drapes, and their identity became obvious. Scott didn’t imagine a blue slime and a redheaded woman made up most of the rogue pairs of this area. For the second time in the evening, he forced his body to relax, the sleep nipped out of him. He pushed up to sit, blankets pooling around his waist.
“What are you doing here?”
Nom’s voice had been made gruff by their low murmurs, barely slipping past his throat. Mae’s tall figure looming over Scott would have been a haunting sight if she didn’t curl in on herself immediately upon interrogation.
“Nothing!”
The reason for her sudden panic became obvious when Scott looked back to the other side of his bed. Even in his nightwear, hair spiked wildly around his face, Nom pointing a sword straight at you made for a paralyzing vision. He must have kept the weapon by his bedside, to have been able to raise it so rapidly. Scott’s staff rested pitifully out of reach, and although he had cast magic without it for most of his life, he had become all too reliant on its weight as a channeling point.
“Nom, it’s alright. It’s just Mae and 4C.”
Scott told him, when he still gripped the hilt with a steady hand after a moment’s silence. Perhaps the dim lighting and his glasses resting on the table made a bad combination to recognise their companions. Particularly so when they had changed out of their travel clothes themselves.
Mae’s navy shirt had tears in places, betraying its age, but the uneven hems at the shoulders looked more intentional. Goosebumps covered her arms and likely her legs too, although tight brown pants hid them. 4C’s clothes had so many mends that Scott could hardly tell which was the original fabric. The patchwork of muted greys, purples and blues hung lower on one side, as though pulled too hard.
As if Nom wouldn’t have recognised their voices right away.
“Nom?”
The ragged breaths finally slowed as Scott’s voice pierced through the fog. Catching a knight at his most vulnerable had perhaps not been the best idea on the rogues’ part. The intrusion had triggered Nom’s defensive state, wide awake in a breath as fire coursed through his veins. The sword lowered until its tip fell upon the covers. Scott, carefully, placed his fingers flat on either side of the blade, keeping far from the sharpened edges and pulled. It slipped from Nom’s grip without further fight, his eyes glued to Scott’s hand. Too scared of hurting him to prevent it.
“It’s not very polite to intrude on other people’s conversation.”
Nom’s state now defused, Scott brought his attention back to Mae and 4C, who had the decency to look sheepish. He could not say much about listening in without sounding hypocritical, considering how much he snuck around, even without invisibility. However, he mostly stayed within earshot rather than intervening.
“Sorry! We were just on the roof and it happened to be right outside your window. Accidentally.”
Mae tripped over her words with how fast she spoke, taking a step back to hide behind 4C. Which did not work, as she stood noticeably taller than him even when she dropped her head down into her shoulders. 4C seemed much more unbothered, maybe used to Nom’s outbursts.
“You should really check that your windows are closed, you know.”
Admittedly, Scott had not. He had simply pulled the curtains together. Had there been no gust of wind playing with the curtains enough for either of them to notice? Or had they simply been too caught up between their conversation and exhaustion to pay any mind to anything else in the room?
“Of course.”
A heavy sigh accompanied Nom’s acceptance of their words. Mae shuffled back to tinker with the window, actually locking it this time. No one else would be coming in through that way. Nom still stood rigidly. Being caught off guard when a knight’s main duty was awareness could not feel good, Scott imagined. He reached for the sword again and moved it out of the way, aligned with his legs. Fabric soon replaced metal beneath his fingertips when he leaned far over to tug Nom’s sleeve down.
“Nom, sit.”
The command immediately wilted all of the tension leftover within Nom and he dropped back onto the mattress. He placidly took the abandoned weapon to stand it upright by the nightstand, far from where the blade might injure Scott.
“Now that we’ve sorted that out, let’s get back to how you’ve never had a real sleepover?”
4C prompted, circling the bed until he faced Nom, arms crossed over his chest. Scott’s world tilted when a firm hand on his shoulder forced him to lay down onto his side again.
“Cuddle pile!”
Mae slotted herself behind Scott, who let himself be manhandled until she deemed the position perfect. She pressed her forehead into the crook of Scott’s neck, and for a split second, it burned. At least, until Scott’s body registered that the two point feeling was actually the cold metal balls adorning Mae’s eyebrow. How long had they been outside for them to be so freezing?
“4C, I am not cuddling you.”
Scott stifled a laugh at Nom’s deep frown, the side of it he could barely catch as his friend scooted back to half-sit against the bunched up pillows. The only thing Scott could picture Nom cuddling was a pile of gold. Or perhaps the workbench in his blacksmith. He’d found the man asleep, arms thrown over it, after all. It could not have been comfortable, with how his glasses twisted on his face. Scott had put them safely aside and slipped a patch of moss beneath his head.
“Aww come on… Move over then, I’m not getting squashed in the middle.”
4C gestured for Nom to lay down fully nearer to Scott. He wondered, for a brief moment, if those two were also in on Graecie’s ploy. Even if she had not told them ahead of time, figuring it out only took a sliver of observation. Both rogues were perceptive, though sometimes more than others. A few too many practical jokes had been pulled on Mae to state she always picked up such things.
“And I’m fine getting squashed?”
Scott, however, did not mind too much. He preferred Nom’s presence to cleaning remnants of 4C from the bedsheets. His slime would get all stuck between the threads of the fabric. Mae’s firm weight against his back prevented Scott from making more space.
“You’re much more solid than me, Nom.”
Nom relented with a sigh, although Scott could tell this one was more for show than the previous ones. The knight shuffled closer to the centre of the bed until their knees knocked together. Scott’s eyes jumped to 4C before they could meet Nom. He focused all his attention on watching the slime settle on the edge, sat up against the bed post with a leg brought up to his chest. He slipped his shirt over it.
The bed may have been large for two, it became small for four. Scott kept his breaths shallow, all too aware they might brush Nom’s face otherwise. Their heads came so close they might as well have been sharing a pillow.
“Oh, guys, look what I got!”
Mae stopped running her fingers along Scott’s ribs to lay her arm over them instead. He opened his eyes to look at the object in her hand. Silver had been formed in the shape of a butterfly within a frame, set with glimmering green and blue gems.
“Mae, you can’t steal from the inn!”
Scott grabbed her wrist before she could pull it back, trying to evaluate just how expensive the brooch might be. Admittedly, stealing was a big part of what rogues did, but not from the establishment they stayed at. During the night they stayed there, even less so. Nom squinted on the other side of Mae’s fingers to make sense of the blurred movement.
“Oh don’t worry, it’s not from the inn.”
Even though he could not see her, Scott heard the smile in Mae’s voice. He tried to review the people they had encountered in the dining hall, or even outside, however none stuck out as a merchant of any sort. Not for such fancy jewelry, at least. He knew Mae liked pretty things but she had never gone out of her way to buy this kind of thing before. Maybe she intended it as a gift for somebody?
“I stole it from some lady I passed in the corridor.”
Mae had… what?
“You stole it from another patron?!”
Nom’s turn for disbelief. If this were to be discovered, it might be worse than stealing from the inn itself. Its residents had all appeared wealthy to Scott, enough that they would be in a lot of trouble. He could already imagine the news in the wallpapers that circulated the streets. ‘Blue Kingdom court proves to be nothing but thieves.’ What great reputation it would create for them, especially as most people here did not even know of Blue Kingdom.
“She was saying bad things about 4C! I had to teach her a lesson!”
Mae defended herself with indignation. That changed things. A glance up at the rogue in question, still nonchalantly watching them, confirmed it. The warmth of the flame peeked dimly through his translucent face. Somehow, Scott had no issue in believing this could have happened. 4C had also been Scott’s first time meeting a slime, although he had heard of them before. He couldn’t fathom holding such hate in his heart for an entire group of people who had no control over their birth.
“I- I suppose that is acceptable then.”
The brooch disappeared from his vision again, likely stowed away in Mae’s pocket until they left the vicinity of its previous owner. She moved behind him, shaking him a little more awake.
“Hey Scott. What flower are we?”
So they had been listening to their conversation for a while. Scott pursed his lips but made no comment about it. He closed his eyes, only if to flip through his spiritual almanac of plants. Certainly not to avoid being pierced by a pair of sword-lilies. He reviewed the flowers he had carefully pressed and collected between pages, still beautiful in their dried state.
“4C is… a myosotis. It’s those tiny flowers that are, well, blue, but they have a spark within the centre that liven them up. They are incredibly hardy and can grow really quickly so they’re also symbols of loyalty. They climb everywhere along trees and walls, up and down as they please.”
Scott opened his eyes halfway through to see how 4C reacted to his assignment. He looked deep in thought, pondering Scott’s words, but then he yawned really widely. Wider than Scott had ever seen anyone yawn. Slimes didn’t have joints to block their jaws. That made sense. When their gazes met, however, 4C grinned. Satisfied.
“What about side to side?”
Mae butted in soon after he finished. She fought, on the brink of laughter, Scott could tell from the strain in her voice. That and the irregular tremble of her chest against his back. A smile pulled at Scott’s lips, only exacerbated at Nom’s confused frown.
“I don’t think it can be long enough to go side to side, from the Red Kingdom to the Blue Kingdom.”
Scott stated, keeping his voice steady. Mae buried her face into the back of his neck, any noises quietened into Scott’s hair. 4C had to raise an elbow to his mouth in order to not make any sound. It didn’t work too well, as his airy laugh still peeked through.
“I’m missing something, aren’t I?”
Scott gave Nom his most innocent expression. He repressed the urge to reach up and smooth out the creases formed on Nom’s forehead by his inquisitive squinting. His fingers just twitched and curled into the bedsheet. Nom opened his mouth, supposedly to question them, but Scott cut him off. Just to see what he would do.
“Mae is a dandelion.”
Nom’s lips remained parted, the wind pulled from his sails. He didn’t even try to regain his turn to speak.
“Some say it’s their worst nightmare. They try to cut it down. Yet, when even it thinks it’s beaten, it comes back stronger and brighter. Unassuming but the most resilient of all.”
As Scott explained his thoughts, Mae stilled behind him. However, she began shaking again, in much the same way as prior. The only difference came in a wetness against his skin, rolling down his nape.
“Are you-?”
Scott’s hand glided below the covers, up to where her arm still rested across his waist. He followed it down to interlace their fingers.
“No!”
She cried out, yet gripped tighter onto Scott. 4C awwed, leaning over Nom to rub Mae’s shoulder. He didn’t quite make it there, as a loud bang on the wall startled them. Well, except Nom. 4C fell over on top of the knight, who choked on the sudden breath expelled from his body.
“Go to sleep!”
Came a shout from the adjacent room, instantly dropping a veil of silence over them. The voice sounded familiar, in a strange way. The gruffness imbued by a half-conscious state resembled how someone might sound muffled from beneath a… metal helmet.
Meeting eyes with the two people in front of him, it semeed he hadn’t been the only one to come to this realisation. 4C snickered. Nom bit his lip, eyes shut tight, in order to stay quiet. Mae didn’t even try. Her giggles sent the lot of them into a fit of laughter, helplessly stifled into the closest piece of fabric. A deep sigh resounded from the other side as Owain resigned himself to having four neighbours. Scott felt a little guilty, knowing that he had been a lot more active than himself, having to direct the horses for all of daylight.
“No, he’s right, it’s getting late. We still have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
One more full day in the carriage before they reached the port where they would board a sailship. 4C blew out the candle in a huff, plunging the room into darkness. The bed frame creaked slightly as he laid down, forcing Nom to also adjust his placement. The rest of them got jostled, considering how packed together they were on the mattress. Scott winced when his shin bumped into Nom’s ankle, too far up to be extended normally. Really, he could not figure out how the man could sleep in this weird cramped position. Regardless, Scott apologised under his breath. He heard Nom’s inhale stop abruptly.
Everything stilled, time grasped by an invisible hand. The Mage God’s, perhaps, if only It cared about a mage like Scott. He didn’t much enjoy Its gift. Magic had its uses, at times, but Scott would have given it up in a heartbeat to return to a life before he had these abilities. Although, had Scott not been a mage, well. He never would have been summoned to Blue Kingdom, never would have met anyone there. Graecie, Eloise, Shan, Owain, 4C, Mae, Nom…
None of them would have been in his life, and his parents would still be dead, because if magic hadn’t helped, a lack of magic would have fared even worse. And Scott would have been all by himself.
Completely.
Utterly.
Alone.
The Mage God might have given magic to Scott with no further intentions, gods couldn’t predict the future either. Probably. However, Its true offering lay on either side of Scott. He thanked It, silently, and the earthly clock began ticking again.
Dizzy, Scott gripped Mae’s hand tighter as he contemplated the undecipherable shapes in front of him. The tiniest ray of moonlight must have been slipping in through a crack in the curtains, lovingly brushing paler nuances in the nothingness of the room. All he could see upclose was a gentle slope, intercepted by sharper hatchings. Scott mindlessly freed his lower arm and raised his fingers to it. Skin brushed skin, a sudden startle beside him, before 4C spoke up.
“What flower is Owain?”
Nom fled from beneath Scott’s hand, in favour of grumbling into the softness of his pillow.
“An annoying one.”
The corners of Scott’s lips tugged to the sides, the simple quip made funnier by the tiredness. Every emotion felt tenfold when you were meant to be sleeping. He caught the glint of Nom’s eyes, so near himself.
“Rude!”
The offended call reached them again, although Scott had no idea how Owain could tell what Nom had said through the wall. Perhaps that helmet, dulling all outer noise, forced his hearing to sharpen in order to understand anything. Just earlier, as he drove, he had held a conversation with Mae despite the creaks and bumps of the carriage on the rocky ground.
“He could have been the dandelion. Because, well… Lion.”
Mae noted, her warm breath playing with the hair at the back of Scott’s head. If only for the joke, Scott would have agreed, but it didn’t suit Owain well. Resilience mattered for a knight. And he was. However, that was never the first quality brought to mind when somebody mentioned him.
“Catmint?”
4C suggested instead. Although he said it playfully, Scott managed to pull a thought from the molasses of his brain. The pale purple flowers sprouting up long stalks looked more harmless than Owain. They could grow in most environments though, so long as they got sun, and spread rather viciously. Overtaking other plants as they pleased. A neighbour down the street from the florist’s had once come to them for help after his garden had gotten overrun from a bush on the other side of the fence.
“As far as symbolism goes… That’s not far off.”
Scott had a few stems of dried catmint above his front door as protection, following Barrowhill traditions. He’d even offered some to the other kingdom members. His own plant stayed firmly constrained in a clay pot to prevent invasion. Owain loudly groaned. The wall echoed with a wooden knock, as if he had just violently turned over and moved the bed with it.
Their whispers extended late into the night, as they all drifted in and out of sleep.
When a knock came with dawn to wake them up, only Scott’s eyes opened. He could only call out to confirm at least one of them had come back to consciousness. The other three were notable heavy sleepers, however he found himself trapped. Mae still clung to him as ivy climbing bricks. Nom had somehow managed to roll himself on top of Scott’s legs, pinning them down.
It took a while for Scott to free himself. At least Nom clambered off in a hurry upon realising his position, unlike Mae who only cuddled up closer to Scott. Needless to say, the group did not join the dining hall first. Shandrea had a smug smile as Scott approached, the others choosing to head for the dishes first.
“Looks like some of us didn't sleep much last night.”
The sleep Scott had actually gotten was restful, however there hadn’t been much of it. The dark patches beneath his eyes had jumped out at him in the reflection of the water when he had rinsed his face.
“I told you it would work.”
Scott didn’t pay any mind to Graecie’s answer, not fully awake yet. Hopefully he would be able to nap during the trip, if the road didn’t jostle them too much. Even if he didn’t, Nom had it worse, needing to stay awake enough to ride all day again.
“He even has a bruise on his neck.”
Eloise noted when Scott leaned his head on his hand, eyes fluttering towards sleep against his will. For once, he couldn’t care about the scrutiny he was put under. Graecie covered her mouth as she giggled softly.
“Gods, a bad one at that. They played rough.”
A plate full of varied fruit and bread, a fancier version of Scott’s usual morning meal, slipped into his field of vision atop the table. He looked up just as 4C bumped his shoulder, settling into the seat beside him. Mae joined them at the head of the table, sliding a glass of juice across the wood from the many things she balanced on her arms.
“But then why do Mae and 4C also…”
Shandrea’s voice fell as she glanced rapidly between the two rogues. They looked at her quizzically but cared more about the food than the gossip. Mae sported marked under-eyes similar to Scott, her hair more frizz than the usual glossy curls. She pulled it back into a loose ponytail before digging into her oatmeal topped with handfuls of berries.
Slimes, as Scott had learned from his time in Blue Kingdom, did not show lack of sleep in the same way, as they had no blood. Instead, 4C shrunk, taking up considerably less space in the bed this morning. It was a wonder, really, how Scott, Mae and Nom had therefore gotten so close together. 4C’s blue almost frosted from within, noticeably pale and opaque compared to its usual brilliance. He had an entire pitcher of water in front of him as a temporary remedy until he could rest fully.
“Oh, thanks for the room Graecie. It was actually the perfect size.”
Nom joined on Scott’s other side, his plate loaded with potatoes in many forms, to no one’s surprise. A few, very few, vegetables added some colour to the side. Scott wondered how he survived on so little vitamins. His eyelids hung low, skin whiter than usual, but he seemed the most awake of them still. Scott watched, amused, as Graecie’s face twisted. Her eyes shot to something behind Scott.
Owain approached in a symphony of clanks, back again in his full armour. That must have been why he took so long to come down. As he lowered himself unceremoniously into the last remaining chair at the table, a low noise whistled from his mask. A yawn.
Graecie dropped her head into her hands.
“I think that I regret everything.”