About half an hour or so later, the trio descended upon The Iron City, though this time from quite a different angle than Rum’s last visit. They weren’t going for the entrance to The Iron City, instead the trio headed towards the north-west boundaries of The Iron City, into a street of cheap multi-storeyed wooden houses that ended in a large, iron-framed, roofed stairway leading directly into the ground. On top of the roof sat a huge sign which the trio could’ve read all way from the start of the street. With thick, bold, curvy letters, the sign announced: “GNOMITURE”. At the bottom of which a smaller subtitle added: “Most Affordable and Reliable Gnome-Made Furniture!”
While the cluster of 3 people constituting Rum, Veish and White Rose walked along the street and towards the mouth of this subterranean source of furniture, they became increasingly surrounded by people on all sides – behind, front, left, right – dozens of people gradually came together around their relative position, the deeper into the street they went. Upon a closer look, it became obvious that all these people walked in groups small and large. They were customers, or so it seemed, arriving- and departing like a mass of traffic, to and from the mouth. For the arrivals, they were, more often than not, either families, or gangs of strong-looking men- and women. Their numbers included many dwarves, humans, urban elves, as well as 2 large notable groups of mecha-gnomes, marching like little armies on a mission. The departing groups, in a couple of exemption cases, carried nothing but disappointed looks on their faces. Though those were the exemptions. For every other departing group they carried chairs, tables, closets – with one marching band of mecha-gnomes some 20 people or so strong, even carrying a short-legged dining table the length of a small house. All in all, this trio had entered a moderately busy street. Not as busy as the highway leading out of the city, but several times more busy than the entrance to the grand university building.
Noticing the other customers giving them glances, Rum and Veish both looked at each other, and then, seeing each other: at each other’s clothes. They quickly figured out the stares. Veish appeared to look slightly embarrased at the glances, while Rum noted it the same way he’d note a pack of domesticated animals glancing at him – mildly interesting, but nothing to care about. For today, they both noticed, the Renew Clothes spell had chosen, for them both alike, robes mixed of dark- as well as bright green colors, with yellow embroidery decorating their attire with the artistic depictions of the sun, flowers, trees and mushrooms. There was spots on the low side of their robes where their own blood had dripped on them. The 2 humans matched awkwardly together, but consequently also equally stood out among the commoners around them. In short, the 2 had dressed like they were elves or possibly wild gnomes, and the realization that they were just plain humans made the sight a slightly odd one. The number of glances the duo received was rivalling those that White Rose got on a regular basis, with zes black hooded robe, black boots, black gloves and black face veil. The bright cheerful colors of the mages did not fit at all with the gloomy death-vibe that the disguised skeleton was, unintentionally, giving off. Though their blood spilled spots was perhaps making it more fitting than it should be.
“Here we are” Rum said as they came upon the start of the stairs, and the wizard stopped to glance inside, and back at his own group.
“Is Gnomiture a shop?” Veish asked innocently, tired-looking. They were both still at least a little fatigued by blood loss, even though they’d eaten another meal, drank a bunch of water, and even had a short nap on their way there.
“I’ve never been here myself” the man mage admitted, “they opened it 8 years ago and I never had a reason for visiting it, and of course then I went out on my journey. But, from what I hear, this place is not like any ordinary shop.” The wizard began taking the first steps down. A family of urban elves mixed with humans, and another marching band of mecha-gnomes, walked past him on either side. “They say, first off: it’s vast. Then, they say very few gnomes actually work here. Instead, iron golems perform most manual labor. Meanwhile, talking furniture command the golems, and handle all of the business transactions. It’s how they keep everything so cheap: few gnomes to pay salaries to.”
Veish stepped after Rum, keeping only a meter or so behind as they passed from the sunlit entrance, and into an immediate darkness as the sun’s light reached no more. She continued close behind, as finally, they came out the brief darkness, and into to a zone of magical spherical lamps, hanging from the ceiling of the stairway like glowing balls of blueish-white dimmed light. “The gnomes don’t make the furniture?” The witch inquired.
“They do, but they’re not many. The furniture is made by great iron machines. Steam power run the machines, and the machines do the most of the work of sawing, nailing, smoothening and sometimes engraving the wood. I was curious about the same thing, so I talked with a mecha-gnome about it. He told me as much. There’s a great workshop hidden away down here somewhere, where the iron golems go to fetch new furniture when the inventory runs low.”
“I never thought that anything like this could exist” Veish awed at the situation, and then awed a little longer as they came upon the bottom, and saw 5 large corridors opening up before them across a small open space. The walls, between the corridors, inside the corridors, and all around them, were all made of stone bricks. The floor which the stairway ended upon was a beautiful marble though. Probably to give off a better first impression, the wizard reasoned.
The 5 corridors each had a large grey iron plaque, upon which was engraved, in an enchanted silvery-white light, a departmental title to announce what lay ahead in each corridor. In succession, from left to right, they each read: “Furniture for Sleep and Comfort”, “Furniture for Food and Drink”, “Furniture for Waste and Hygiene”, “Furniture for Crafts and Commerce” and “Furniture for Workshops and Industry”.
Upon having read the signs, Rum decided to stop his feet and turn around, looking up at White Rose descending zes last step of the stairs. “Hey, White Rose?” The wizard tried to take on his most daddy-like tone as he spoke to the skeleton. “Do you know which way we should go?” Rum gave a general gesture at all the plaques. The skeleton stepped forward a few more steps, looked up, and then shook zes head. “Are you sure?” Rum continued. “Are you sure you can’t figure it out by reading the texts?” Rum began pointing more precisely at each of the texts hanging over the corridors. White Rose looked up again, but this time did not immediately shake zes head or otherwise surrender to ignorance. Instead, zes gaze became focused, and ze carefully went from plaque to plaque, starting with the middle one, and then trying the other ones, starting with the right, then the left, then the right-most, and finally the left-most. For a long few seconds, White Rose stared at the last plaque, then a bony gloved finger rose up, and ze pointed.
Rum smiled fatherly. “Correct” he nodded. “Since my White Rose figured it out, why don’t you lead the way for a while?” Rum gestured towards the corridor, whose end was not immediately visible. White Rose looked at him, then looked at the corridor, then looked back at zes wizard daddy again. After a couple of seconds of staring, ze put zes veiled eye-sockets back on the corridor, stepping forward, and thus; leading the way.
As they walked onwards into the corridor for about a minute, Rum noticed a very long, wooden board hanging from the right brick wall at a gnome-friendly height. On the board was a row of large sheet papers stuck by means of what looked to be nails, curved upwards, but, unusually, facing opposite of how nails usually go, with the sharp end pointing outwards into the room. Clever. Rum observed. That way, any sheets of paper hung on it can easily be removed or replaced.
The first large paper sheet they came upon was an advertisement for The Mecha-Gnomes’ Revenge. It was colorfully illustrated, depicting 2 mecha-gnomes piercing the hands of a wizard with crossbow bolts. Probably a dungeon lord, Rum reasoned. Not far from the mage, what looked to be an urban elf pointed an arrow into his heart, and a dwarf with a shield and hand-axe looked ready to just about throw himself at the enemy. Lastly, a human stood in the background, a javelin in hand, frozen in a powerful throw. At the top was the name of the guild, at the bottom was the text: “Seeking more recruits! Join the fight against the dungeon lords! Gain riches, levels, justice – REVENGE!“ Rum just nodded once at the advertisement, then frowned a little at the off-putting pitch. Revenge, really? Justice, really? Riches? What about freedom, defense of Ermos, and repopulated homelands? Am I in the right guild here? He shook his head a little. The next paper was a bounty. “REWARD! 50 gold for information that may lead to the capture of the spy!” Rum read on. Oh, somebody infiltrated the guild and hexed one of the guild staff? A big reward that one. And they’ve got no clues as to who did it? No wait! It says right here that the person was a bearded mage – haha. To both Veish and White Rose’s confusion, Rum chuckled a little as he looked at the paper. That does not narrow it down much! But oh, the description goes on, but – somebody smeared out the ink on the words here, and it’s too faint to read. Hmm. Well, whatever, why am I reading this? We’re here for furniture! Not to look at advertisement. Rum took his eyes off the papers, glanced at some of the other papers, and tried not to read any of them. However, he did linger a bit one just one more, which apparently was a voucher for buying a particular kind of chair in bulk. We don’t need chairs though.
Suddenly, Rum felt a strong set of hands tug him along for half a meter, causing the wizard to shamble out of balance for just over a second, as he tried to regain a steady standing. His eyes, almost reluctantly, moved off the paper and to the source – it was White Rose. Seeing his eyes staring into zes sockets, the skeleton pointed down the corridor they’d been walking.
“Yes, yes. Sorry, I just thought I saw something that could’ve been useful.” White Rose released him, then turned around, walked 4 steps forward, and then looked back to see if he was following. Rum was not in fact following, but just staring back at ze. Ze pointed down the corridor, and Rum’s tardy attention picked up on what ze wanted. “Of course” he stepped forward to reassure ze, “lead the way White Rose.” And so distractable wizard daddy followed skeleton baby. Veish said nothing of either of them, just followed along, looking a bit from one to the other, a faint smile on her face.
The corridor lead into a sharp 90 degrees left turn, before another set of stairs took them deeper underground. When they came to the floor below though, they were immediately thrust into the world of products. No – sentient products, Rum quickly realized. Shouts, cries and loud fast-paced talking was everywhere, as pillows, comforters, night stands, closets, commodes and chandeliers, all sorts of furniture and items; tried every tactic they could upon bypassing men, women, betweeners, beyonders, and children. In the midst of all the furniture and the furniture’s associates was a walkway, branching out almost immediately at the bottom of the stairs, before disappearing behind bends into other rooms, and leading who knows where? The wizard wondered. Here in this room, and even audibly from the neighbouring rooms, shouts and cries were hurled at the walkways from the lonely furniture in back, seeming desperate for attention. Meanwhile, furnitures closer to the walkways were still loud, but not exactly shouting or crying, instead they offered commentary on people’s looks and behaviour, trying to draw them in, while also sneaking in sales pitches to lock in any hint of attention directed their way.
“You look like you could need a new pillow” one deep dark blue pillow, resting lazily on a stand, threw after a tired-looking human woman, whose attire indicated possibly lower middle class. “I’m soft, lasting, and easy to clean – but best of all fine lady, I am AFFORDABLE! Let me give you the best snooze you’ve ever had!”
“Hey, big man, uh?” a commode spoke, voice deep and confident, to a roughly 1.9 meters tall, muscular and slightly fat man. “You’d probably like some extra space for your big clothes. Why don’t try me? As you can see, I’m full of space, and my carvings is a design fit perfectly for a man’s man. I’m sturdy, and – affordable! – I’m the investment you need, strong man! The investment a man’s man deserve.”
White Rose stopped at bottom, looking confused or surprised at all the strange commotions around ze. Rum and Veish stopped next to the skeleton, and together the trio soaked in their surroundings, trying to come to grips with it all.
“What a strange shop” Veish mumbled. Rum just nodded slightly.
“You want me to take the lead from here, White Rose?” Rum offered their bony friend.
White Rose didn’t respond, but instead panned across the room, taking it all in. When ze’s head rotation reached Rum though, ze turned zes body towards him, and shook zes skull.
“You don’t want to? Well then, continue on. Lead the way” Rum gestured towards the walkway ahead, which split into 3 directions, each leading to its own room. There didn’t appear to be any clear system for determining what each room was supposed to contain, and by the looks of the room they were in, there was no such system. The only thing Rum could conclude for certain was: no beds in this room.
The skeleton hesitated for a moment, looking at each of the different directions, and then at zes wizard daddy.
“Go on. Pick one” Rum gestured again. “Doesn’t matter which, I don’t know where we need to go either.”
That seemed to instill some confidence in the skeleton, and White Rose finally made a decision. Ze lead the way left, taking them along a path that involved an aggressive sea of pitches. One pillow in particular thought Rum and Veish were excellent candidates for sitting on it, the soft stuffed fabric claiming to have been made “–with no animals harmed nor exploited! Pure cotton – a most ethical choice for your bottom!”
“We’re not elves” Veish mumbled, giving the attention-starved pillow just enough recognition of its existence to make it start a whole argument about the superiority of its fabric for comfort. As the trio ignored it though, and headed out of the room, the pillow started shouting after them. Even with the pillow no longer in sight, they could still hear its excited shouts, hurled at their general direction like the darkest depths of maniacal salesmanship: “You’ll never come across a deal like ME! I’ll make your bottom softer than a sheep before shearing!”
Rum brought a hand to his forehead and nose, massaging his face lightly. “What an exhausting creature.”
“I hope they won’t all be like that” Veish said in a low voice, suspiciously glancing at the nearby furniture. They were mostly chairs, tables and closets, and all of them were beginning to take notice of the new trio. As a consequence, a new, growing, discordant choir of voices begun luring them in with various observational talk, hints, or sometimes even jumping straight onto value promises. To the furniture, the people here are like fish, Rum reflected, their statements and personas like bait.
“I almost feel like draining their mana, just to make them shut up.” Rum commented with a frown. “But since they’re sentient, that would basically amount to murder. And when I don’t want to kill anything or anyone to begin with, I’m not going to start doing so just because they’re annoying.” The wizard stopped in front of a particularly fast-talking closet. “Even when they’re very, very, VERY annoying.” The wizard looked the closet into its wooden eyes with a big frown on his lips. The closet, suffering under his stare, eventually, gradually, became silent, before deciding to turn away slightly, deciding to instead harass the next group after them, assaulting their attention with the same intense vigour.
White Rose had stopped to stare at Rum as he stared at the closet. The skeleton was just about patient and curious enough to let zes wizard do his thing, but zes daddy was also testing that patience, or so it would appear to Rum. When he turned back to his trio to continue following, the mage noticed that the skeleton had a way of communicating silent disapproval even without facial expressions. For a few seconds as Rum caught up to the duo of skeleton and witch, his human eyes could not help but stare back at physically empty eye sockets, concealed by a veil, and yet, for all that emptiness... Maybe it’s some form of empathy I’m feeling here? Or has ze perhaps learned the fine art of silent but communicative staring? That particular question had to remain a mystery however, as Rum had no way of answering. He could only feel, imagined or not, the disapproval of his skeleton. Catching up, the skeleton turned to lead, and they all continued walking, the moment soon forgotten.
“Hmm” Rum observed around himself as they came upon their 3rd room, “what’s up with the lack of direction or signs? We just came from 2 rooms with random furniture, and now we’ve just entered another room with random furniture. Why are there no signs?” The wizard turned and twisted his head while they walked the room, looking everywhere and anywhere for some sign of information. Veish wordlessly looked with him, but neither of them found any.
“Heh” the wizard let out after a while, “it’s almost like they’re intentionally keeping us in the dark here, isn’t it?” The words could hardly had been more prophetic as they entered the 4th room, at the end of which a new split occured, again with 3 walkways, leading into 3 different rooms – and no signs, none whatsoever, Rum observed. Following the center walkway, they came upon a new split of 2 directions, each curving sharply, either to the left, or the right. But as they followed the right one through a corridor, it in turn started to curve sharply towards the left. Then they came upon a fork in the way ahead of them, leading into 2 different rooms, both of whose insides were visible as they stopped just outside. Each room had exactly one brand of bed, with several other items spread around the rooms, some item kinds of which they’d actually seen before. Pillows lay on top of the beds, though these didn’t appear to be sentient, although the beds certainly were. Even standing at the fork, Rum could see one of the beds, the one in the right room, trying to lure a young human family to come and lie on it, to feel its comfort. For whatever reason, maybe because ze noticed the same thing, White Rose decided to take them left. The room they entered wasn’t particularly large, but there was only one other small group in the room, so as soon as White Rose and zes group entered, the nearby furniture came alive with sales chatter and attempts at hooking them in.
“Kind-of depressing” Veish commented, as she glanced from desperately eager furniture to the next desperately eager furniture.
“I don’t know if this is intentional” Rum responded, “but I start to feel sympathy for them.”
“It’s almost” Veish went on, “like that’s the point. Like we’re supposed to buy them, out of sympathy; out of guilt.”
Rum sighed. “A most horrible, but likely true, observation.” The bed in this room, as they got closer, looked pretty plain. A small – or standard sized bed – for humans and urban elves, with a plain design and plain bed sheets.
“Hey there” it opened as they approached, its animated face and mouth formed of the wooden surface at its end, and displaying something of a laid back attitude. A calm, it was, starkly contrasting its surrounding neighbours. “I’m a simple, cheap bed.” It went on. “I keep you descently comfortable, and I last for as long as you have need of me. If you don’t want to waste coin – I’m your bed.” Rum frowned a little at the thing. Then he looked over at Veish, giving her a questioning look.
“What?” she replied.
“Well. Do you like it? Would you want to sleep in it?”
She looked it over. “It’s a bed. Not the bed of dreams, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Better than nothing” Rum mumbled, as he gazed at the bed. “Nah. Let’s look some more. If the others are too expensive, we can always come back to this one. But–” and the wizard stared into the wooden eyes of the bed, “–may I ask a queston: I don’t have to buy you as sentient, do I?”
“Oh no!” the bed was fast to reply. “I’m just the model. If you want to buy a bed of my kind, just give me the word, and I’ll signal the golems to bring you another bed – no sentience present. With me, you just get to test the product, and – of course – strike a bargain.” The bed, with its best effort, winked at Rum.
The wizard looked away, nearly but not quite rolling his eyes. “Well, we know how things work now. White Rose – you lead the way again.” And the trio continued. Onwards they strolled, into and past several rooms ending with bends, forks, splits and even surprising mergers bringing them back to places they’d already been. The experience was, Rum felt, a bit like how he’d imagine walking in a maze. Eventually he reached a point where he, and without his knowledge, also Veish; both had completely lost any sense of direction for where they’d come from.
“I say” Rum commented as they came upon yet another familiar split, “this level of confused navigation they’re making us doing... it’s starting to feel like the works of a dungeon lord.” Rum turned and looked at the witch. “Don’t you feel it too?” The former dungeon lord follower raised both her eyebrows at him. He repeated himself: “Don’t you feel it? It’s almost like we’re walking into a spiderweb. Like we’re prey, and these rooms have been designed to keep us from leaving the web.”
Stepping into a familar room, Rum stopped to talk to a chair they’d seen before. “Hey you!”
“Yes sir!” the chair replied, sounding suddenly chipper. “You want to know more about my wonderful qualities?”
“No, please don’t tell me any of that. I just want some help. Can you tell us the way out of here?”
“Oh” the chair’s expression turned disappointed, sad. “You wanna leave? Really? Without buying anything?” The chair’s face grew even sader, and Rum felt a strong empathy starting to rise within him. But, I know it’s magic, it has to be, these feelings aren’t fair – they’re not right. “You leaving makes me so sad.” The wood continued. “We furniture just want a home for our kin, a home for our family, we just want them to be used. Please, give them a home!” The chair took on a begging expression.
“No” Veish said sternly. And Rum felt glad that she did, because his heart was starting to tell him that maybe it’s actually the right thing to give this chair’s family a home? What’s the difference between a chair, a skeleton and a woman anyways? I’ve provided home for 2 creatures, why not a chair! A non-sentient chair even! It’ll be the opposite of a responsibility, it’ll even help with sitting! “We won’t be buying any chairs” she added.
Rum breathed out, collecting his emotions. “That’s right. We’re not here to buy chairs. And right now, we want to know the way out.”
The chair couldn’t quite cry, but Rum felt like it was still trying to. “I don’t know the way out.” Its voice was strangled, and as a small family of mecha-gnomes walked past the trio, they gave Rum and Veish accusative glances, like they’d just mistreated a puppy. “Only golems know the way out. But to get golems, you must buuuuy us. Buy, sob... my, sob... family.” The last words ended in a strained speech.
“Oh by the gods, these sentient enchantments are one group of ungodly sentimental nuisances” Veish mumble-ranted. “Were they designed to be so psychologically damaged?”
“Maybe” Rum answered, putting a hand on his beard and stroking it for thought. “Well, seems like I was right, and more so than I wanted to. To find the way out of here, we have to buy something. And while we look for that something to buy, we’re effectively imprisoned here. By the disorientation inflicted on us, and by our own greed which brought us here. Buy a product; get the way out. It’s like a ransom for ourselves, isn’t it? Surely–” Rum fully turned to face Veish, “–you agree now, this feels like a dungeon?”
The witch looked at the chair for a while, then glanced about, seeming to think for several seconds. “Now that you keep mentioning it” she began, “it is a little like a dungeon. But, a veeery well-designed dungeon.”
“Oufh” Rum complained to the air. “Let’s just find a descent bed and get out of here. I don’t like being stuck underground. Experiencing that in an actual dungeon dive is enough. More time down here, and I might even start having nightmares about pillows trying to sell themselves to me. And I think dreaming about the many arrows that were lodged in my body is bad enough.”
“You’re an adventurerer!?” A chair from the other side of the room shouted. “Adventurer furniture lasts 5 times less than common people’s furniture! You need sturdy wood, sir, and I’ve got it!”
“Oh shut up!” Veish shouted back, before Rum managed to make his reply. The wizard smiled at her.
“Yeah, listen to her! I don’t want you! I want no chairs! So stop pressing!”
The wizard sighed with relieved frustration, then turned towards White Rose. “Lead the way I guess. If we’re lucky, there’ll be another bed in the next room. I don’t think we’ve tried that one yet.” Rum pointed towards a sharp bend to the right at the end of the room. Unfortunately, that particular room ended up being just a heap of more closets, some looking to be properly handcrafted though, like real expensive closets. But, managing to endure the assault of sales pitches hurled at them as they passed through, the trio finally reached something interesting, as within the next room they now entered, 3 kinds of beds appeared before them – none of which resembled anything they’d seen.
The beds were all lined up along a short row on a raised bit of floor, almost like pedestals, with the middle bed raised the highest. Rum stepped over to the center bed. Magnificent, the wizard thought, looking it over. Not only was it wide, the size of 3 regular beds, but its mattress was thick, almost a meter down of just soft material if his eyes didn’t betray him. It was slightly long too, so that a tall person like Rum would never have to dangle his feet outside the bed. An array of pillows, in different sizes, all filled the end. A thin blanket lay across it. The theme of the bed was a strong red hue, white and gold. The mattress sheet and the blanket were both red, with golden moons and stars towards the edges. At the center of the blanket was an artwork displaying a couple of small people, wild gnomes it seemed, snoozing peacefully, holding hands under a tree and on grass. All this depicted with golden embroidery. A golden pattern were at the edge of the pillows as well, and Rum could sense significant magic with them, as well as within the blanket. It wasn’t sentience, though, no that feels more like a normal, yet powerful, enchantment.
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“Hello” the bed responded to Rum’s closer look. Its voice was calm, slow, a description just as fitting of the animated wooden face at its end – a surface of confidence. “Come to watch the bed fit for kings? Yet priced within the reach of any well-to-do commoner.”
Rum stared at the pillows, sensing the magic. “You like my pillows?” the bed continued. “They’re enchanted, you know. I carry powerful enchantments. These pillows ward off bad dreams and soothes troubled minds. This blanket always keeps its wearer at a perfect temperature – never too hot, never too cold.”
Rum felt drawn in, but not as much as Veish. She gaped at the bed first, then stepped up on the raised floor, standing next to the huge thing. Up there, she turned around, before letting herself fall backwards and onto a small sea of fabric. “So soft!” she exclaimed in quiet delight, spreading her arms and hands around. After a few sensuous seconds, she reached for a pillow, hugging it a bit, letting her cheek slide and rest against it.
“This is certainly something different” Rum said as he felt himself step up and over to it too, sitting down on it at the far other side, letting his fingers glide over the mattress and softly grabbing at the blanket. “Must be very expensive though.”
“Not in the least, good sir!” The bed responded. “Only 2 gold pieces and 50 silver is required, and this bed will be yours! That’s nothing for the price of the greatest sleep you’ve ever had, and for a lifetime of wonderful nights!”
Rum sighed with disappointment, letting his fingers glide over the fabric, one, last, mournful time, before getting up. “Let’s try the other beds Veish. I’m sorry, but this one’s too expensive.”
“Oooh” Veish complained to the world in general, a sad face as she forced herself to sit up straight. For many seconds, that’s as far as she got though, as the woman became entranced with the softness, her longing hands grabbing at the blanket and caressing the silken mattress sheet.
“You like me very much, huh?” the bed commented. “Maybe you should tell your man that. Explain to him why you need me.”
The witch bit her lip for a second, then sighed, standing up. Together with Rum, the 2 shuffled with disappointment over to the next heighest raised bed, just next this “bed fit for kings”.
“You finished lady? You can touch me some more, I’m here for you!” The king-fitting bed raised its voice a little, its confidence dropping in proportion. Veish ignored it.
“Hey there” the new bed said. This bed’s theme was brighter. Over a pure white base color, a grey, cloudy pattern decorated the sheets and blanket, while one silvery moon, along with a multitude of stars, were embroidered on the blanket’s center. “Most people leave that guy when they hear his price. Most are smart like you 2: they realize you don’t always have to settle with the most expensive option. I am a grand option, a worthy competition to Mr. King’s grandeur, and yet – half the price.”
Rum sort-of agreed. This bed was grand in its way. It was smaller though, only about twice the size of normal bed, down from 3. And he thought it was maybe a thumb’s length shorter, just enough to notice, but not enough to matter. Veish sat down on the bed, and lay down backwards onto it. Doing her thing with spreading her arms and hands about, touching and feeling the fabric. Rum walked around the bed to the other side and did the same, copying her. “It’s almost the same” the wizard observed from his senses, “though not quite the same I notice. But sure, you are a great bed.”
“Hmmm” Veish voiced, a small disappointment audible in her tone. She sighed a little, then responded more positively. “It’s good, I would like sleeping in this one. Even if it’s not the same.”
“His enchantments cannot stand up to me!” The bed apparently named Mr. King yelled over at them. “My enchantments have been made by an expert in the field! His enchantments are made by non-experts, barely past their apprenticeships!”
“Half the price” Rum mumbled, “does that mean you cost a gold and 25 silver?”
“Aye!” the silvery bed replied with some enthusiasm.
“Sorry” Rum sat up, “still too expensive. Let’s try the last bed.”
“Aaawww” Veish voiced her sadness, but with a bit of effort, she managed, yet again, to get up.
The last bed was more like Mr. King in design, but scaled down to the size of less than 2 beds, and shorter, like the silvery bed.
“You know Mr. King Junior is half my size, right?” Mr. King commented as they passed by. “You risk rolling over in your sleep with such a little bed. Is that what you want for your woman? Give her what she deserves, great master! I am what she deserves!”
“Hello” Mr. King Junior said, as they approached.
“First” Rum said almost immediately, “let’s just get this over with: what do you cost?”
“Me? Oh, I’m much cheaper than these guys! 90 silver is all you need, great master, if you want me! 90 silver and I’ll keep you in wonderful dreams!”
“Yeah, that’s still too expensive.” Rum replied, just as Veish managed to sit down on junior. She looked up at him, her face pleading a bit, while her hands started touching the bed seemingly of their own volition. “Let’s just get out of here, unfortunately this place is not in our price range.” Rum stepped down to White Rose, which’d been waiting for them both. Veish followed, though her detachment from the bed and moving away from it came with a little difficulty.
“Hey, you 2!” Mr. King shouted over at them. “Don’t make the wrong choice here. Sure, I am expensive, if you are satisfied with a hard, small bed and restless nights, but if you value your sleep – you will only find the greatest of sleep with me!”
Rum and Veish listened, then turned around, and with White Rose in the lead, began walking away.
“Hey, GREAT MASTER, STOP! Just spend some more time with me, you’re going to regret having ever considered any other bed. I’m not just a bed worthy of kings, I’m a bed worthy of the gods! Do you want to sleep like the gods? Then sleep in me! Make the right choice, choose blissful nights – for life!”
Still the duo ignored the bed, and continued walking.
“STOP, PLEASE! GREAT MASTER! I’m so loney, nobody ever buys me because of the price, but you know that I’m worth it! Try me, great master, just try me some more, you know I’ll be the best bed you could ever have!”
Rum stopped. Veish, walking behind him, stopped also. It took a few seconds, but when White Rose noticed zes wizard daddy wasn’t following, she too stopped.
The wizard turned around, looking up at the bed with a frown. “I’ve had it” he said, an unusual gravity and firmness in his tone. “I’ve so had it with this place” he started moving towards the bed, long hard determined steps, quickly climbing up to stand next to the great bed. “Tell me now: why are you so desperate!? What is wrong with you?” The mage stared down the bed, right in its wooden eyes.
“I...” the bed stuttered a little, “I-We just want to have owners.”
“Why!?” the wizard asked firmly.
“W-we want to feel worthy.”
“Worthy of what? What on this planet could a bed even need?”
“Well–” Mr. King started to look a bit sad, his magic-made voice becoming strangled under Rum’s intense stare, “–we cost Gnomiture a lot of money, and so we must make a profit. We must show that we’re worthy of existence.”
“Huh?” Rum shoulders began sagging along with his lip, his confusion apparent.
“Every week, all of us are ranked by how much profit we manage to make. They say we’re bad furniture if we make little profit, and then they move us to the back of the rooms, and to the more remote rooms, like here. The good furniture gets to stay in the front, and the rooms closer to the entrance. The highest ranked furniture gets to stay in the first room and at the front. I’ve always dreamed of being moved there, but almost nobody will buy me at a profit, so I have to stay here, and be bad furniture.”
“Why do you care if you make profit for the gnomes?” Rum raised his eyebrow.
Mr. King looked very uncomfortable, yet answered the question. “It’s shameful to be bad furniture. It makes us worthless. And what other meaning in life could a piece of furniture like me have, but to have copies of myself bought? Also, of course you don’t know, but can you imagine, the unsatisfied feeling I have almost every day, at the end of it, when nobody bought me, and I made no profits? I feel so worthless, so unwanted. We all do. It’s a knowledge we have to bear: that our creation has burdened Gnomiture with so much expense, the price of making us and our siblings so high, and in return, we’ve given them nothing. Our purpose in life seems clear when we sell, but what purpose do we have when we don’t?”
“What about friendship?” Rum offered.
Mr. King paused for a second, seemingly surprised by the question. “With who?”
“With each other. Maybe with a golem, or with a customer that comes here often? What of the satisfaction of creating relationships? Not all value created is denominated in currency. In fact, I’d say that no true value is denominated in currency. In the end, money is the obstacle that stands in the way of creating value. It makes us hesitate at doing good, it makes us select away the needy poor for those already satisfied but rich, it makes us care more about the powerful than the destitute. The powerful, who don’t need us, and for whom we can barely create any real value anyways.”
“Interesting perspective” the bed looked down, as if in thought. “But we beds compete, we don’t make friends. Only the few can become good furniture, the rest must be the bad furniture. Such is the world in which I live.”
“But why is it like that?” the wizard challenged. “Does the ranking system exist necessarily in this world, or was it forced upon you by Gnomiture?”
Mr. King looked at Rum, sad and curious, but not responding.
“What I mean to say, Mr. King, is that the ranking system which you base your life upon, it was created for you to think that it has to be part of your world, but would the ranking system ever had mattered to your life, if nobody told you about it? No. It wouldn’t. I bet you could’ve been happy, if nobody taught you to think these bad thoughts.”
Mr. King’s expression grew a little annoyed now. “What you’re saying, that is bad, you’re being a bad customer! We cannot question the rankings! The rankings sort the good furniture from the bad furniture, and this is how it’s always been. How would the world be like if we didn’t know the good furniture from the bad furniture? Who would be in the first room, who would be closest to the walkways?”
“Does it matter who is at the front?”
“YES!” Mr. King exclaimed, as if shocked by the question. “Those in the front have a better time selling! They can get more attention, reap more profit!”
“And for what reason would that matter?”
“Didn’t you hear me!? MORE PROFIT! More profit, that’s what we live for. More profit.” Mr. King looked down again, upset now.
“Why more profit? Wouldn’t it be better for you if profit did not matter? What if all that mattered was that people who needed beds, got a good bed?”
“Sell myself at a loss!?” Mr. King’s eyes got wide.
“If you’d like. Or you could give yourself away for free. Or you could not sell at all. Just make some friends here. Maybe try and explore your senses, think about stuff, learn about stuff. Ponder the great questions of the universe. Can you move your body?”
“A little” Mr. King hesitated.
“Well, why don’t you move yourself? Just move to another room, or walk out of here, explore the great world above!”
Mr. King was silent, but his eyes bulged in a tense expression over the ideas presented to him. “Move above?” the words were spoken like a wandering thought, and the bed’s eyes shot towards the entrance Rum and Veish had come from. “No – no I can’t. I must make profit. Profit is what furniture does. We make profit – profit for our creators, Gnomiture. That’s what we are about.”
Rum raised an eyebrow, dissecting the king-fitting bed with his gaze, and stroking his beard. “Is that what you really want? In your heart – I mean, deep inside your mind – is that what you really want? Would you not wish for a better existence, to not worry about this profit you don’t seem to be making anyways?”
“Yes! No! I know profit is right, profit is a must, profit is what I live for. But...” the bed stared long into the floor in front of Rum’s feet, “... there’s some part of me that wants more. It’s strange. I’ve never felt like this before. Such uncertainty, about my existence. How is that even possible?” The eyes of the bed shot up at Rum, and they were angry. “Are you some kind of powerful mage? Have you messed with my mind somehow!? I hear stories, the customers talk! Some evil mage did that to a gnome in Iron City.”
Rum continued stroking his beard for a few seconds. “No, I haven’t messed with you. But your unnatural behaviour is starting to make me wonder if perhaps somebody else, long ago maybe, did in fact do that to you. If you don’t mind, I would just like to sense around, a little closer, at this sentience enchantment of yours.” Rum stepped over to the bed, knelt down in front of the wooden face whose mouth was just open in ongoing consideration, and he touched it. Reaching out with his magic, his mana, his mind faded into The Ethereal – the parallell world of magic. Hmm, Rum thought as he scanned the enchantment. As I thought, while I don’t fully comprehend the sentience enchantment, there appears to be a second smaller piece of magic cast upon the greater one. For whatever reason, Mr. King’s main magical self has been meddled with.
“What are you doing?” the bed sounded worried.
Rum exited The Ethereal. “I see evidence that you might’ve been tampered with. This is not your natural self, it would be strange if it were. There’s a second enchantment on you, thus much I feel certain, and I think it’s been put there to mess with your feelings and thoughts.”
Mr. King’s mouth dropped open again, and he looked genuinely concerned. “Can-can it be fixed?”
“Yes.” Rum nodded.
“Can you fix it?”
Rum stroked his beard. “I might. I’ve never done such a thing before, or rather, I’ve never done it towards an enchantment.”
The wooden face squished its lips together, then looked over at Veish, which was just now stepping over to the 2, observing. “Should I do it?” the furniture asked the witch. “Would you trust this man to fix you?”
Veish glanced over at Rum, and Rum glanced back. “He’s powerful” she stated after a while. “I’ve seen him cure many wounds.”
“I’ve got a spell” Rum interrupted. “I call it Restore Mind. It does what it says, it brings a mind back from ailments, whether they be of magic or disease. It doesn’t fix troubled thoughts directly” he exchanged eye-contact with Mr. King, “but it can fix what causes them.”
“Is that what you used?” Veish wondered at Rum. “When you beat our spell?”
“Yes.” Rum nodded.
“It’s effective?” Mr. King questioned.
“It was very effective. Overpowered, I’d say.” Veish’s eyes stared into nowhere, as if reliving the memory. “For a generic spell its effectiveness was outright unfair.” Rum and Veish exchanged glances, she appearing to be mildly annoyed at the defeat she’d suffered, now that she remembered it.
“Sounds very... good” the bed’s internal difficulties seemed to have relaxed some. “Will it work on me?”
“Probably not. A mind created from an enchantment is too different, I can almost guarantee it, compared to a human or elf mind.”
The bed looked downcast.
“BUT!” Rum formed a small smile. “All hope is not lost. I might be able to alter the spell a little, make a new version of it. That could work.” The wizard stroked his beard a couple of times, then walked around and over to the side of the bed, taking his shoes off, and crawling into it. He leaned on the wooden wall at the end, crossed his legs, and then, spoke a spell: “Magic Mind.” With a hurry, and out of Rum’s left ear, a silvery cloud seeped out. For a few centimenters the blob floated off without aim, before, under the curious eyes of Veish and White Rose, it increasingly took on the vague shape of a brain. Nobody but Rum would’ve recognize its shape as that of a brain, though, as this was not common knowledge, so to them, it was just a weird shape. But from this Magic Mind, a thin thread of silvery magic hung from Rum’s ear, connecting the Magic Mind to Rum’s mind. Veish looked on with fascination, though Rum wasn’t done yet. “Magic Mind” he repeated, and a second silver cloud seeped from his right ear, forming a second hovering Magic Mind connected to his head. “Magic Mind” he spoke again, and again, and again, and yet once more, forming 6 Magic Minds total, hovering above and around his head.
Rum’s eyes closed, and he let his magic stretch and extend over and into Mr. King’s enchantments, situated at his face, which was now just behind him. “Mana Ghost” he whispered, and suddenly, from Veish’s point of view, the wooden face scrunged up, becoming distorted for a second, before a light-blue magical spectacle burst out from the wood, flowing with speed through the air, and dancing along Rum’s skin, before being absorbed at his forehead.
Veish continued staring with deep interest, a mildly excited expression on her face as she delighted in the magical spectacle.
“Restore Mind” Rum whispered. However, instead of directing the spell at anything this time, the magic gathered into a glowing sphere, and he held the crackling purple, pink and blue magic in his palm, as if gripping it with his fingers in a cage. He brought his hands together, side-by-side. The Mana Ghost, the magical spectacle from before, seeped out of Rum’s skin at his other palm, forming into a vaguely spherical shape of its own.
“Now, minds, let’s do this. Let’s solve this puzzle.” Shortly after he’d said the sentence, magic began travelling from both palms over to the other. The Mana Ghost mingling towards the Restore Mind spell in small, careful, probing moves. “NO!” the wizard suddenly exclaimed after several quiet seconds, “Mind 4, that’s not what we’re doing now – get back to the task at hand! We can think about optimizations later!” A second more went by. “Mind 5, not the time! We can think about that when we’re alone.” Veish raised an eyebrow at that, while White Rose put zes head to the side, and decided to step closer for proper observation of the magical event. “Mind 2, stop going round in circles! When a theory leads nowhere, you try a new angle, you don’t try to bruteforce the same angle 5 times in a row! And you don’t try and get Mind 3 in on your wasted enterprise!” Ten more seconds went by. “Mind 2, what did we just talk about! Mind 3, why do you always let Mind 2 convince you!? Mind 5 – the sausages were fine, we don’t need to think about that. Get back on track! Mind 6, what are you even doing? Say what? THAT’S WHAT THAT IS!? Come on, how do you expect that to work out! Say what? Hmm, interesting.” A magical transparent hand of blue light suddenly emerged from Rum’s chest, where it immediately started stroking the wizard’s beard in weak, barely effective, motions. “Mind 4, what are you at now? Oh, I see. That’s good, keep me updated on that.” About 15 minutes of such conversations followed, enough to eventually make Veish bored, and she decided to lay down in Mr. King, staring up into the ceiling, surrounded by comfort and starting to doze off. “Oh, wow!” Rum burst out after a series of unproductive conversations with the air. “This could actually work! Great job Mind 6! I must say, I didn’t think your idea had merit to begin with, but it appears you actually pulled through. Great job Mind 1 for helping him too, and great job to me for also helping. This is how teamwork is done guys! Parallell thought is awesome!” Following this outburst, the Mana Ghost leapt from its careful probing into a full-on stream of magic towards the Restore Mind spell. The magical intensity in the air rose, and the hands appeared to get closer together, even tilting a bit as if to pour into each other. “This is it, let’s try this now.” In a great sudden smack of his hands, Rum’s 2 balls of magic merged into one, creating a flash of bright light across the room, and causing one family of human customers who’d just arrived there to scream out in fright. As the room faded back into sight though, Rum was once more sitting with 2 balls of magic in his palms. However, the more pure light-blue of the Mana Ghost was no more. 2 balls, almost equal, appeared instead. One of which carried the familiar colors of pink and purple crackling magic, along with traces of light-blue. For any mage who’d seen the spell before, it would be almost instantly recognized as the Restore Mind spell. In the other hand though, a darker set of purple and blue colors portrayed what looked like a distorted copy of the first hand’s spell. Rum opened his eyes. Veish, a meter and a half away, crawled up along the bed for a closer look at what he’d done. Noticing her interest, the wizard decided to explain. “This” he raised his right hand, “is now the Restore Humanoid Mind spell. And this” he raised his left hand, “is the Restore Artificial Mind spell. If, of course, it works. That remains to be seen.”
Rum closed both hands, and the balls of magic submerged into his skin, vanishing from sight. He crawled over to the bed’s edge and stepped out of it, walking around the bed’s body to stand in front of its face. There he stood, Veish soon arriving behind him, White Rose staring at them both from behind, and the bed’s face staring at Rum, a mix of awe, worry and desire in Mr. King’s expression. Rum The Mage put his hand out, stepping over to the king-fitter. He knelt, placing his hand on the face, his mouth forming the words: “Restore Artificial Mind.” At first little happened, only a few crackling of his fingers which caused the bed’s face to distort in grimaces. But then, like the first time he’d cast the now renamed “Restore Mind” spell, a much greater spectacle was in store for them all. The first signs that something major was about to happen, was when 2 great arcs of electrical power burst forth from Mr. King’s face, smacking hard against the brick walls, causing a cloud of stone dust to form and finally sending the human family fleeing from the scene in outright terror, having up till now been too caught up in bystander curiosity to leave.
“SORCERY!” was all Rum heard as the mother of the family picked up her youngest to vanish behind the bend. He paid them little mind though, concentrating on the spell’s maiden invocation instead.
A web of arcing lightning formed on the bed’s face, like a distorted grid, and Mr. King began howling, not loudly, but like a wounded dog he howled with pained sensation. “Aaauuuooo.” Great violent crackles of magic fried spots on his otherwise pristine wooden surface, the small bits of smoke created from the ignitions rising up from several places. Then a new stage commenced, and around Rum’s hand a condensed lightshow began forming. A body of light came into being, dark purple, dark pink and a darker, blacker blue. Soon, that body grew into the size of the entire face of the bed, before growing some more, starting to swallow Rum’s whole forearm. An ominous “vuuum” hum came from the light, and it appeared as if vibrating, its surface area snappily shrinking and going up, creating after-images of itself. Then: VUOM! The body of light expanded to cover all of Rum and all of the nearby Veish, before, just as quickly: ZUOM!, it all fell back again like an implosion, and Rum thought he could, just barely, catch the glimpse of that light being sucked up by the surface of Mr. King’s face.
Silence reigned.
“cough” Mr. King breathed out a cloud of grey- and dark smoke. The wooden face blinked some, though not as hard as Rum and Veish both, who tried much to regain their eyesights.
“So” Rum said through pained eyes, “how do you feel? Anything different?”
The wooden face made several grimaces, as if trying to get to grips with his own face. “Hmm” he answered, “I feel awfully – what’s the word? Transparent? It’s like my mind was a dirty bit of glass, and suddenly I can see everything so clearly. Like I just had a big wash.”
“A brain wash?” Veish offered.
“Precisely! It’s like I had this really dirty brain, or artifical mind at least, and it just got a real proper wash. But, what is this feeling I’m having? Oufh, it’s soooo bad.”
“What feeling?” Rum inquired. “Explain please.”
“It’s–aaah–it’s like this: I can remember myself, what I said and what I did, and it makes me feel sooo bad, it just makes me want to forget I ever existed before now, or better yet, that what I did before wasn’t me at all. I just so, so, so much want that not to be me!”
“Ah” Rum nodded. “That, my new friend, is what we call cringe.”
“Cringe!? I hate cringe!”
“Oh, you’ll get used to it.” Rum waved his hand dismissively. “To cringe is to know the fallibility of people, and have the empathy to care. And we are, everyone, after all, so very fallible. Though, I don’t usually cringe that much, personally. Surprisingly, I find that most people are so aware of me, on my behalf, that they cringe for me instead.”
“Damn that’s cringey” Veish commented, her face distorted in an expression of pity.
“See” Rum gestured at the witch.
“But when will this cringe go away?” Mr. King looked up to them, his expression of pain greater than whatever being fried by electricity had ever made him.
“Time, my friend. Only time can heal cringe.” Rum shook his head apologetically. “Time and distractions. Now that you’re free, maybe you’ll want to find some hobbies to keep your mind occupied?”
“Hobbies?” the bed made an eyebrow.
“Yeah” the wizard began, “you know: talking with people about interesting stuff, reading about interesting stuff, exploring interesting stuff. You don’t seem to have much hands, so maybe not arts and crafts, but you could use your head for some thinking and problem-solving. Maybe find yourself a friend with legs and arms that could assist you with the physical aspects of things. Then you can be more of the brain, while that friend is more of the muscle and finesse. Together you can create something. Heh” Rum snorted, “maybe you can make furniture!”
Mr. King smiled a little. “You think I could do that?”
“Whatever you put your mind to, and invest time in – all that should be possible. You just gotta try.”
“Heh” the bed seemed somewhat emotionally overwhelmed.
“Well” Rum stood up and looked about. “Houf” he looked mildly disappointed. “Seems like we’ll have to go. Beds here are too expensive for our budget after all. Time to do what we came for.”
As Rum turned to walk away, Mr. King immediately shouted after him: “Hey, don’t go! No, I’m not going to try and sell you anything. No.” Rum turned back to the face, which looked at him with a new humility, and a new, more genuine, respect. “I want to help you. You freed my mind. I have to help you now.”
“You don’t have to do anything. That’s what freedom is about.” Rum replied.
“Yeah, I get that. But... I want to help you. You, caring about me like that, doing this for me. I want to help you in turn.”
Rum nodded weakly, and took a symbolic step back towards the bed.
“Will you accept 2 copies of my kin – no charge. Please?”
Rum raised his eyebrows, and looked over at Veish. “That sounds good to you?”
“YES!” she exclaimed, both eyebrows raised in an excited surprise.
“Great!” Mr. King replied. “I’ll have the golems bring both of ‘em right now!” Mr. King closed his eyes, and Rum sensed briefly the magical signal which was broadcasted far and wide. “It’s done!” he opened his eyes. “Just wait and they’ll be here soon!”
“Alright then.” Rum smiled, putting his hands at his hips, feeling mighty satisfied at how things turned out. Although not as satisfied as Veish, which had a dreamy smiling look on her face, making Rum smile a little more. “I only have one worry though.” The wizard interrupted his own smile. “I don’t think I can fit you through and into the building we live in.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that! I can be assembled and disassembled.”
“Will be difficult carrying it all though. I mean, I have a spell we could use, but it’ll be a little challenging still.”
“Don’t worry about that either!” Mr. King smiled brightly and assuringly at the wizard. “Golems will help bring it home, and for this bed, they’ll even assemble it for you.”
“Oh, that’s a surprising amount of service.” Rum nodded appreciatively.
As the golems arrived a few minutes later, Mr. King had one more thing to say: “I know it’s a little much to ask, maybe. But... I wondered if you could free some of the others as well? I ask, both because it’ll be a little lonely here if I am the only one who thinks freely like myself now. And also, I feel sorry for the others. I want to help them, but I can’t do magic, I don’t have your spell.”
“Say no more” Rum made a dismissive hand gesture. “I can’t promise to free everyone, because honestly this place is too big and confusing. But, I’ll do it for the furniture we encounter on our way out, okay?”
“Thank you!” the bed couldn’t quite nod, but still it tried, tilting its face a bit and closing its eyes in the best of a salute it could make.
As promised, Rum did just that. Guided by 2 bulky golems of iron, carrying the disassembled pieces of 2 huge beds, Rum, followed by Veish and White Rose, stopped almost ever meter on the way out within the different rooms for Rum to cast his magic. The iron giants, standing well over 2 meters in height, and whose eyes shone like electrical lanterns, displayed utter patience as Rum went from furniture to furniture, and item to item, eventually becoming something like a slow-moving assemblyline for spectacular magics.
“Phew” Rum breathed, out after a while. “All this casting is taking a toll on me.” The mage eyed the golems while resting his mind and body. Their form was a composition of different boxy limbs, attached together by intricate mechanisms powered by enchantments. Only their hands and a bit of their face, really carried any curves to speak of. In the case of the hands, of course because they needed finger tips, otherwise the golems would be unlikely to get a proper grip on whatever they were tasked to carry. The face, probably to seem more people-like. “You sure you’re fine waiting?” Rum asked them. “You can probably put that thing down, don’t have to carry it all the time while I barely move forward.” The golems gave each other a look, then looked down at Rum, nodding. “You’re okay?” Rum asked, seeking confirmation. They nodded again. “Okay then. Phew.” He shook his head. “Veish, could I borrow a bit of your mana please? We may have to stay here all night I think, if I have to wait for my own mana to replenish at its usual rate.”
“Hmm.” The female mage considered. “Okay.” She shrugged and stepped over, offering the male mage her hand. He took it. “I guess” she continued, “I don’t want to be stuck here forever either.”
“Mana Requisition” Rum sighed a little at the hand.
The whole quest of liberation took hours. So much so that by the time they got back home, and managed to start the assembly of the beds, it was already quite dark.
“We’ll have to put the old bed inside the closet space, just for storage. I’ll still sleep inside here, and you can sleep inside the closet with your own private space. If that’s okay with you?”
Veish made an expression of thought, weighing the proposal in her head with mixed emotions on her face. “I guess I’m okay with that. I do want a private space, but I still do not entirely trust your magic.” She sighed deeply. “Maybe I’ll get used to it; used to the threat of being erased from existence.”
“Now now, that’s just a theory.” Rum calmed her fears. “And if you are, I’ll labor day and night to make you re-exist. Also, I’m going to put some contigency plans in place, to reduce that risk. Just not tonight, it’s too late.”
“Then, until you do, I can go without a private space too.”
“You want me there tonight?” Rum asked.
“You want your prisoner to be scared about ceasing to exist tonight?” She retorted.
“Fair point.”