Chapter Twenty Five: Breakfast At Spiffany’s

Zuglah didn’t know what exactly was going on, but he did know one thing; he liked Elven cuisine very much. If he had the chance, he wanted to eat more of it. But he had to remind himself that this was about Chayah.

“You said Chayah invited me? And her father? Wait a minute, did you say king?” His damned stomach wouldn’t let him think straight.

Finally, Krane spoke. “Chayah is with her father. She is not in any trouble, as you seem to think. She is a princess of Feydaeillyn. Who is there to bother her? She personally asked me to come and fetch you, because you are familiar with me. I am meant to reassure you.”

This whole situation wasn’t making a lot of sense. Why wouldn’t Chayah just come herself? Was he supposed to wear his fancy robes? Or civilian clothes? Krane was no help.

“They will not care. Come as you are or change, it makes no difference. I will personally be happier if we can go now. Without delay.” He seemed to resent being made to run errands.

“That’s fine with me. I’m hungry.” Krane walked with him back to the field where his portal had opened.

“Now wait just a minute.” Stelma Jas had followed them. “This young man is my responsibility. You cannot just make off with him in the middle of a riding lesson. I shall have to inform his teachers at once.” She did not move, but nodded in satisfaction as though her words had stopped them in their tracks. After it became obvious that her protest was the extent of her involvement, Zuglah turned back to Krane. He shrugged.

They stepped through into the most opulent, fancy room that Zuglah had ever been in. There were massive, elaborate crystal chandeliers hanging in the middle of the room. All manner of portraits of Elves adorned every free space, walls, columns, display shelves. There were elaborate busts on pedestals and full sized statues displayed with mirrored lanterns to cast brilliant spotlights. The huge table that dominated the room looked like it could seat at least a couple dozen before people were forced to actually sit near another person. The cutlery was stamped silver, the filigree on the plates, gold. Even the wallpaper seemed to have flakes of gold in the weave.

There was a battalion of servants, whose jobs just seemed to be to be a crowd of people all waiting for the slightest request from The King or his guests.

The King of the Elves himself looked more like Krane’s younger brother, or perhaps his son, than his father. His hair was purest black, without a hint of gray, and his face was youthful and open. Zuglah liked him immediately.

Chayah stood beside her father and hung on his arm. She flashed Zuglah her beaming smile, but said, “Dad, this is Zuglah Glun. Zuglah, may I present Dawstan Raincaster. My father. Oh, and he says he’s the King of the Elves or something but that sounds like nonsense to me.”

Zuglah bowed awkwardly. It was his first one, and he felt foolish. Then, Chayah smiled and the King told him, “Just call me Dawstan.”

They sat down to supper. Krane sat to the King’s left, directly across from Chayah on his right, and Zuglah sat beside her. And then, a balet of food service began. Every servant was a High Elf, and they brought plates and dishes and bowls in such rapid succession that they had to wait their turn to approach and set down their delicacies. Zuglah’s senses were awash in glorious smells and tasty delights. A pack of wolves could have been stalking right behind him and he wouldn’t have smelled them.

The gallery of servants returned to their exact position from earlier, each taking up a vocal harmonizing melody that held no words. Every servant who resumed their post seemed to add a unique tune and melody, sometimes even at a different rhythm from everyone else. The effect, cumulatively, was a hypnotic, complex song unlike anything he had heard before.

“So Zuglah. Chayah has been telling me of your quest. I’m very happy that the two of you are doing your first ones together. Even though she has admitted to me that she practically bullied her way onto your team. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” he replied around a mouthful of food. He thought the pink, fatty meat was duck. When he skewered a couple of slices, a man had popped up with a golden, steaming gravy and offered to pour it on top. He held his plate up to the man eagerly.

Chayah laughed again, at what he didn’t know exactly but clearly enjoying herself. She explained to her father that he was going to have to do most of the talking for at least the first couple of platefuls. “Or more,” he agreed. Even Krane laughed at that.

Krane told them the story of the first time he had ever fought a Drake. It was thousands of years ago, on a continent that didn’t even exist any more. He had been a young Paladin back then, full of purpose and ambition. Zuglah learned that in a thousand years, the average High Elf worked his way through every single class and subclass at least three or four dozen times. He also learned that Eiola Walan was the Elven word for High Elf.

Krane had been the youngest, then. He had been in a party with several of his brothers, on a mission to free a village from a tyrannical Overlord who was working them to capacity and taxing them to death. He had charged the town with clearing a local nest of Green Drakes, a vicious, mindless variety that had no magical attacks, but could spawn in the dozens. They had been caught off guard by the sheer volume of Drakes, facing easily three dozen of the creatures that the locals had failed to warn them about. They were instantly over-run and forced to beat a hasty retreat.

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But Krane and his older sister Lanthia Ban had been cut off from the rest of their party by a young, stupid Drake who had thought them an easy meal. Krane told them how it had managed to kill both of their horses at once, and put them on the ground before they knew what was happening. His older sister had been pursuing the trade of Warlock at the time, and thus had a very limited pool of hit points. Everything was fresh and new, in those days. Everything was a first. He seemed to wax nostalgic as he told them about questing with his older sister, how he had admired her and just wanted to spend time together.

But his sister had taken an egregious injury while trying to protect her horse, and had become furious with him when it died. She had almost left him to deal with the Drake on his own, but had relented when the damned thing nearly killed him too.

He told the story in a self-deprecating way that was clearly well-practiced. The way each new stumble seemed to elicit peals of laughter from Chayah told him that this was who the performance was clearly for. The story ended with a pair of young Elves being harried into their camp with a young, hungry Green Drake chasing after. It had been quick work for his brothers Shaddeus and Forp to dispatch the creature, then. They had gotten into a heap of trouble for bringing the rampaging Drake into the middle of the sleeping party. Krane assured his older brother that they had been yelling sufficiently upon entry, but they hadn’t roused in time. The Drake had wrecked every tent in camp except Krane’s. It was a fun story.

King Dewstan told a story that Zuglah wasn’t entirely sure was suitable for polite society. It involved his fifth (or possibly seventh, he couldn’t be sure) Draconic wife, a species of Dragonkin native to the Spalth Plane. As fond as he had become of their women, The King had decided that it was well past time that he visited.

Apparently the marriage ceremonies of Dragonkin are somewhat lethal to people without natural body armor and the capacity for flight. “Of course at the time I was the preeminent Magician on Malgrus, so I assured her that my arcane might was more than equal to the challenge. Naturally, I wanted to show off to her family, so I had been secretly practicing my Dragon form as a surprise wedding gift. But I wanted to really impress them, so of course for my dragon form I chose Eldritch.” He laughed. “I did, however, learn a great deal about the interspecies relations that go on between the different kinds of Dragons and their kin.”

The Eldritch Dragon that appeared in the skies at the wedding had been a complete unknown to them, a situation that literally had half of Spalth taking to the skies. Apparently all Dragons were known on Splaith, especially the ones with the capacity for Ascendency. So after a brief but bloody battle, they all realized the mistake, and Dewstan had been allowed to wed Sthith. Or had it been Aasth. Either way, they had consummated their love right there in the sky, with the entire wedding party and defenders of the realm watching. Dewstan casually informed them that his lovemaking had been superlative.

After a brief, awkward pause, Krane turned to Zuglah and said, “My sister has been telling us about your first arrival at school, and how you told her of your quest. But even though you were generous enough to share it with her, it is still not her place to tell or not tell us about the details. That is your prerogative. Will you tell us about it? We just want to know what our Chayah is up to.”

Zuglah thought for a moment while he chewed. “I am happy to tell you. I wouldn’t be anywhere on this thing if it wasn’t for Chayah. Plus, this food is amazing, and you guys have been really nice to me, even though I’m just a forest Troll who goes to school with your daughter. I’m really nobody.”

Dewstan said kindly, “You would not be at The Glout if that were true, Zuglah Glun. It is a little expensive for nobodies. But you have a certain charm that is quite infectious. I can see now why my daughter likes you so much. Please, continue.”

He told them the story of entering the dungeon, and finding the subtle differences. He told them about the Centaur merchant, and about the Stanish sigil. The rewards that he was able to choose from, and the last words of Lord Stanish. His hopes were dashed a little when Dewstan asked, “What do you think a ‘gronnibox’ is?” He had been hoping the ancient Elf would know.

“I do so admire dwarven blacksmithing. Their weapons are peerless, and their enchanting is excellent. Did you choose the dagger?”

“I didn’t, actually. I chose the talisman. I have enough weapons, and I don’t need another status effect at my level.” It occurred to him just then that he could perhaps afford another effect or two, given his shiny new sazal. “It doesn’t do anything, but I think it might be Troll. I just liked it.” He looked around the table for something else to talk about.

“May I see it?” King Dewstan asked him. Zuglah turned his torso and unbuttoned the first couple of buttons of his robes. The charm had sunken completely beneath his flesh as soon as he had pinned it to his chest, looking like a blue, red and gold stylized tattoo. He knew that Chayah had seen it through his ripped robes when they first met, because she had remarked on it. So she had most likely described it to her father as well. Zuglah wondered if this was what had inspired them to invite him to dinner. They seemed overly interested, for some reason. Or he might have been disproportionately uncomfortable talking about it.

“It is indeed Troll. Do you know what it says?” He shook his head. “It says Heart of an Ogre. It is an ancient Troll benediction towards their children. The heart of an Ogre is said to be implacable. Did you know they can speak the Common Tongue? They received The Gift the same as you and I. Yet as far as I know not a single one of them has ever used it. Not even Goad. If you wish to know what they are saying, you have to learn Ooh.”

Zuglah nodded. “Yes. The Gift.” He speared a potato with his fork, and popped it into his mouth to chew while he tried to figure out why Ogres would know Common. The surprise ingredients inside the tuber did nothing to help his concentration.

“Aurelieus, the God of the Humans, Gifted all of the races that could speak with The Common Tongue. What the Hoard calls Goad. He said it was an apology because his Humans were superior creatures and they would soon run roughshod over the rest of us. That was Eons ago.”

Zuglah had never heard of Aurelieus, or his Gift. He hadn’t ever wondered where his knowledge of Common had come from. He had just assumed that he had learned it whenever he had learned Troll. When he told the Elves as much, they laughed. Zuglah didn’t mind. It was a night for self deprecating stories.

Zuglah’s regenerative abilities did not seem to affect his alcohol tolerance, and after he had slowed down on his eating enough to converse, the servants had removed many of the food dishes, and replaced them with pitchers of beer and wine. Zuglah had never had mead before, but found it delicious. “King Dewey,” he slurred. “Why do you look like your son’s son? He’s so old. And you look like your daughter’s brother, not her father.”

“That’s easy. Because I’ve eschewed my class. Since you are the party leader, just tell me what class you need and I’ll do that.”

“What do you mean? Why would I pick your class?”

“You know, so I can go with you. I want to become a member of your party.”