Chapter 9: Bluerose Castle

~ Part 4: Cookies! ~

“Here. Have some.”

“Oh. Thank you very much. Hohohoho!”

“Grrrrr—”

“Quiet, Tazius.”

As I pass along a jar full of handmade cookies—baked with Dorothy...sombre memoirs—I meet [Dullahan “Headison”]’s smile with a complicated expression. On the side, [Dullahan “Tazius”] is just kind of growling, babbling, and drooling. I guess you could say he’s more the brawn than the brains in this duo.

I’m not too sure what to make of this situation. Half of me thinks this is all a candid camera set up by the God of Chaos. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Bob has been selling recordings of my misadventures as some sort of reality show in the realm of gods…

* * *

Somewhere, in another plane of existence, a god sneezes as he’s about to put a price tag on a recording magic crystal.

* * *

…While the other half of me has resigned itself to constantly bump into weirdos.

With that said, having a cookie party with a pair of headless zombies in armours is a first, even for me, and ranks pretty high on my “that’s messed up” scale of odd. Probably, Headison and Tazius fit somewhere between Josiane the acrophobic [Harpy] and Philibert the [Squinting Earthworm of Doom].

Sigh. What is going on with my life? You’re fucked up. Your life is fucked up. Stop fighting and embrace it. Sigh.

Unaware of my deep inner consternation, Headison continues to soliloquise by himself. “...and th’head’s when I discov’head zombies weren’t actually rotting *crunch* but th’head their flesh was gradually being broken down by the very magic th’head rhead’sed them. *crunch* Hohohoho! So silly. *crunch* Like th’head time when th’head sluttish [Haunt’head Decayed Bust] was giving hea—”

“Sorry to interrupt you, Ed-Headison, but I’d like to ask you something. Is that alright?” And I really don’t want any more detail about your sex partners. Aw! He was getting to the best part! No. I’m already not feeling all that well. I don’t think my stomach can endure another round of your necrophiliac bedroom exploits.

“Please ask, my friend. *crunch* Hohohoho! If I can head’lp you with some—*crunch* something th’head’s bothering you, I'll do my b’head’st. *crunch* After all, two heads are better than one! AH! But I can’t tell you about the secr’heads of Bluerose. *crunch* I’ve a job head a r’head’putation to maintain, after all. Hohohoho! Aside from th’head, answering you isn’t a bother at all. *crunch* I like talking.”

Yeah...I’ve noticed.

“Then…what did you mean by I ‘really don’t want to head inside that tower’?”

“Oh. Th’head? Right. Hohohoho! Well *crunch* it’s nothing to bother you head about. Just th’head nobody ever got out of there alive.”

Indeed…nothing important at all… Do I smell sarcasm?

“In fact…” continues Headison, “nobody got out, nor much in for th’head matter. Hohohoho! I’m quite good with the sword after all, especially with decapitations.” Gulps. I have to repress myself from massaging my throat. Instead, I eat a cookie. “Even for you, def’head’ting me is something you’d better g’head out of your head, kiddo. Hohohoho!”

“So you really can’t let me through?” I’ve got nothing to lose asking the jolly pundead. That joke was terrible. Shut up.

“No. *crunch* I can’t. Hohohoho! I told you alr’heady. *crunch* Or did you alr’heady forgot? Hohohoho! What’s in that head of yours? *crunch* Hohohoho! I’m the Head Guard here, and my job with Tazius here is to head’nsure nobody g’head through th’head door.” He pats the huge black metal gate. “Don’t you g’head what would happen if the Head Guard were to negl’head his job?! Hohohoho! I’ll tell you. *crunch* ANARCHY!! Head’vryone would start doing head’nything th’head crosses their heads. *crunch* Nobody would be head’ble to make head nor tail of head’nything head’nymore, head all semblance of organization would crumble! Hohohoho! *crunch* It would be like jumping headfirst into troubles!”

Yeah…Because the current Bluerose Castle is such a model of order and coordination…Again with the sarcasm. Here eat a cookie. *crunch*

“Although, *crunch* as long as you don’t try to head into the guardian’s room, *crunch* I don’t really care what you do head’nywhere else in the castle. Hohohoho!”

Such a zealous head guard indeed…Wasn’t he just talking about responsibility and management an instant ago? …I got nothing to say.

Good info though. I eye the big black door were all leaning against. Guardian’s room, uh? ‘Twas ‘bout time we find that fucking boss room. Wonder what the fellow looks like…Well, no need to rack my brains. We’ll know soon anyway.

Unconcerned by my lack of response, Headison keeps enjoying the sound of his own voice. “Beside *crunch* like I s’head *crunch* …Can I have more of those ‘cookies’?”

I readily opened him the jar. “Please do. You were s’hea…saying?” Dammit. It’s contagious.

“Hohohoho! Thank you. *crunch* Yes, like I s’head, you don—”

“Grrrrrr!”

“Tazius! Behead’ve yourself in front of our head’stimated gu’head’st.”

“Please stop that…”

“Stop what?”

*sigh* “Nothi—”

“GRRRABABRUK!! T’zius ‘ant kikiii!”

“Right…Here. Have one Big Guy.” I can’t tell if I find him pitiful, scary, or weirdly cute. It’s not every day you meet an eight-point-five-foot-tall sentient undead monster who acts and talks like a five years old.

“KIKIIIII!!! Nom nom nom nom nom…”

“…”

I’m speechl’head’ss—Dammit!

I shake my head and refocus on the issue at head—HAND!!

My head…it hurts. I feel you, bro.

Anyway…

The pair of atypical [Dullahan] are certainly too strong for me to take head on—no pun intended, this is serious! Except maybe if I went all out, which would leave me drained of mana and unable to face the boss which Headison confirmed to be in the next room. Also, counting on a time to rest between the comedic duo and the unknown guardian is a chance too hazardous to take.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Although, that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. In fact, my plan is already in motion and progressing smoothly. I know, right? I’m surprised myself. What’s that supposed to mean? Nothing, nothing. You’re a great planner, Nick. Hurray for Nick the Strategist! *throws imaginary confetti into the air*

“…” I must have broken some record of self-mockery.

“Hohohoho! Those are really good. *crunch* It’s been head’ges since *crunch* the last time I head something. Hohohoho! *crunch* Although we don’t really need food *crunch* but th’head doesn’t mean *crunch* we can’t enjoy head’ting. Right? Hohohoho! And th’head little piquant aftert’headste…Mmmmmh. Head’xquisite. Hohohoho!”

Piquant, sure. “That’s the personal touch of the baker,” I comment with a mysterious smirk.

“Galbradabu *nomnom* dadupadergrrrrrabteltrsh *BURP* Kiiikkii grroood.”

“Glad you like them, Big Guy.” Undead love cookies. Who knew? Well, as the saying goes, come to the Dark Side… Right. I innocently smile as the two partners stuff themselves with my homemade pastries, which are rapidly disappearing inside the mouths of their severed heads.

…

……

………wait.

“Err…Headison?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to sound discourteous, but, questions of need aside, how are you even eating?”

“What are you talking abou—Oh! Hohohoho! Of course. I g’head what ups’heads you.”

Does he mean, aside from his speech pattern. Don’t be rude.

“You see… *crunch* The two parts of our necks are in fact linked by some kind of dimensional magic.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why would that be?” I must say, I am genuinely intrigued.

Headison shrugs. “Hohohoho! I head’ve no idea. *crunch* I’m no necromancer. *crunch* But how could we control our bodies otherwise?”

“Makesh shensh,” I comment while distractedly nibbling on a little flat cake. They really are good, no doubt about that. I swallow, ignore the blue window that pops up, and then add, “While I’m at it…I thought liches were the only undead capable of constructed speech. But obviously I was wrong. How is that?”

The armoured corpse looks surprised by the question. He scratches his chin in wonder. The action is pretty odd-looking because the severed head is set on its owner’s lap.

“Well, if I hazard’head a guess…*crunch* I would say it isn’t limit’head to liches, but…since those are often former humans—or mages from any sentient r’head’ce really—th’head turned into undying skel’head’tons of their own will *crunch* it would make sense they found a way to retain all their head. Hohohoho! Nobody would want to be an immortal retard. Hohohoho!”

“Makes sense…” I suppose.

“As for me…Well, I guess it’s because I was r’head’sed from a strong soul in the first place and because I am very ancient. My old’head’st co’head’rent memory d’head’tes back a millennium or two. Hohohoho! Difficult to be precise while stuck in this ever-dark pl’head’ce…Well, I say th’head, but it isn’t true for all undhead though…”

Both of us turn to Tazius, who is liking the fingers of his gauntlets and spouting baby talk.

“Yeah…Although he’s not like most undead I met. He seems rather…” I search for a word that isn’t too offensive, “…incomplete?”

“Head’xactly…But that’s because the curs—Oh! Hohoho! Can’t tell you th’head. Sorry…By the way, can I?”

“Be my guest.”

“Thank you very much. *crunch*”

I take back the near-empty cookie container from the undead when a thought strikes me. “You’ve been undead for more than a millennium? So you you’ve got nothing to do with the Great Demise?” Erwyn had been overrun by undead for only three centuries, give or take a couple decades. If he’s telling the truth, he’s been dead for at least three times as long. I wonder what’s the connection. I refuse to believe there isn’t one. A dungeon of undead where lives an immortal “princess”, in a kingdom cursed with a zombie invasion…This is too much for a mere coincidence.

“I head’ve no knowl’head’ge of th’head Gr’head Demise you speak of. Although it is true th’head I head’ven’t shown my head outside in quite some time. Hohohoho! *crunch* People who come here rarely make conv’head’sation with us like you do. Hohohoho! So I’m afr’head I’m not very up to d’head with wh’head’s happening in the outside world.”

“People come here?” I’m surprised. I though this place was cut off from the outside world.

“People came alright. They used to, head least. They were quite numerous head a time. Hohohoho!”

“And you beat them all?”

“All? Hohohoho! No! Gods, no. Tazius and I head our sh’head’re of def’head’ts. It was thirty-four to forty-two in my favour I recall corr’head’ctly.”

“Grrr…Forty-one…Elvs no count.”

“Yes it does. It’s your fault for always charging ahead like an empty-headed gorilla.”

“Bapudabubadbadu!!”

“Well, you should head’ve known that they head a cleric with them.”

“KretabrbrbrbrrrrbadpuligrrrPWUAH!!”

“You know very well th’head I don’t!”

“Bobostingyarrowsabravuda… Headson’sooooperfectdgrrridabobobro….”

…What is going one?

Eventually, picking up his pouting head from the floor, Tazius stans up and walks away. He crouches a little further, his back to us. From where we sit, we can still perfectly perceive his raging gibberish. Headison and I exchange a glance.

“…”

“…”

“He took the cookies,” I point out.

“Hoho…ho…yes…yes, he did…Well, th’head was pretty mean of me…He is quite sensitive…Head’nyway…Back to your qu’head’stion…”

“Is it alright to leave him like that?” I don’t know why I’m concerned about the big undead. Probably your maternal instincts. I don’t even try to follow your reasoning anymore. It’s your reasoning though.

“Yes, yes. He’ll be fine. So…About being def’head’ted many times, know th’head even in def’head’t I never remain down for too long, and rapidly r’head’se again.”

“Most undead do.”

“Yes. Hohohoho! We’re quite headstrong, if I may say.”

Respawn, uh? Well, obviously. In spite of having a few loose screw, he’s still a named mini-boss. True. “Ah. Good to hear. I was intrigued, you see, because the surrounding Kingdom of Erwyn has been plagues by hordes of rampaging undead for three centuries already.”

“Is th’head so? Hohohoho! I actually thought things were rather qui’head recently. So th’head’s why…Th’head’s quite a sh’headme. From the few outsiders I m’head over the years— well the few th’head accept’head to listen to me—I head gath’head’rd that Erwyn was a pr’headtty charming land to live in.”

“You didn’t leave here before dying?”

“If I did, I can’t remember.”

“I see…Well, I don’t know about the past. I have travelled a good deal in the country, and it is all but ruined. [Lesser Ghoul], [Slasher Spectre], [Wailing Mother]… The place really is a paradise for undead.”

“That may be true, but I’m not particularly proud of the aesthetic tastes of my kind.”

“But…if you aren’t linked with the grand curse, does that mean the Immortal Princess isn’t some undead necromancer of sorts?” I try to sound as natural and inconspicuous as possible.

Staring at the green ghostly flames of a torch—or at least pensively holding his head in that direction—the [Dullahan] distractedly replies. “Of course she is. Did you think the castle cursed itself all alone? Although I don’t believe she’s much of a necromancer…Most of the und’head around here are sloppily r’head’sed. Look at poor Tazuius. But what do I know? I’m stuck here head’nyway. Head she never leaves that tower of hers…On the other head, b’head’sed on what those people s’head, she’s not a lich per say. She’s more of a vamp—Hoy!!”

Abruptly interrupting his absent-minded mumbling, Headison pivots his helmet to glare at me. A headless knight’s glare can be quite scary but I only return him a look as innocent as an angelic puppy—a bald puppy covered in dried gore and bits of intestines, but innocent nevertheless. “What? What do you mean a corpse? Oh! That corpse. Haha. Not mine. What bloody knife? Oooh! THAT bloody knife. Hehehe…I really have no idea how that got in my hand…Haha…Could you please turn around for a second?” Ha-ha-ha. Very funny.

“Hoy, Kid! I thought I told you not to ask abou—”

“Headison,” I interrupt, “do you know the story of the two helmets?”

He throws me a suspicious look. “…No?”

“Well, one said to the other: ‘Just wait here for a bit longer, I’ll go on a head.”

“HOHOHOHO! Nice one. Nice one. Hohoho! Do you know the one about the story of the…”

Praise Chaos for short attention spans.

I listen to Headison’s unfunny head-jokes for a while longer, until I take advantage of a lull in his litany to place a word. “Sorry, it’s really hilarious…but I’m very tired right now. It’s going to be tough fighting my way back outside, so I’m going to take a nap over there, if that doesn’t bother you.” I point at the other extremity of the hallway. “It was nice talking to you, by the way. I’ll be sure to say goodbye before leaving.”

I stand up and started walking away. I hear Headison call out behind me. “W’head’t! Wh’head do you mean?”

Looking back over my shoulder, I offer a helpless shrug, as if the undead was asking something obvious. “Well…You won’t let me go further. I can’t beat you. We’re quite at an impasse here. And those cookies were the last bit of food I had left. I’m not like you. I actually need to eat, so I can’t stay here much longer. And I don’t have endless stamina either. It’s been days since I last slept. I’m sort of at my limit. So I’ll rest for a while and then head out.”

“Hohohoho! Good one…good one…Okay…Alright then.” Headison looks a bit dejected to lose so soon his first new chat-buddy in centuries. “Well. Be sure to come back when you’re stronger. We can head’ve a decent fight then, or sh’head’re some more cookies. Or both.”

“Right, I’ll do th’head… that. Good night.”

“Hohohoho! I don’t sleep…”

“Hahaha. Right.”

As I turn away from the friendly [Dullahan], I stop restraining my facial muscles, and my bright grin turns into a cynical smirk. “♩ Hm Hm Hm-hmm Hmm ♫ Hm-Hm Hm-hm Hm…” Humming Chopin’s funeral march I casually stroll to the entrance of the corridor, lay down arms behind my head, and closed his eyes.

“♩ Hm Hm Hm-hmm Hmm ♫ Hm-Hm Hm-hm Hm…”

Then I log out.

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