Horan and Omet were teleported into the middle of an open field, and immediately wished they hadn’t been.
The grass was covered with bodies, with dozens if not hundreds of dead Servants lying strewn across acres of open land. It was like a pack of wild animals had been unleashed upon them. Many were ripped to pieces, others smashed into the dirt, yet more riddled with puncture wounds. Given the orientation of a lot of the corpses, it seemed like just as many had died running away from the Indians’ home than towards it. The bodies had evidently been lying there for several weeks, as many had been picked apart post-mortem by animals, and pretty much all of them were quite decently rotted.
While Horan was recovering from the teleportation and trying not to vomit at the sight (and smell) of a particularly gruesome kill a few feet away from him, Omet looked ahead at the squat but impressively broad castle in the middle of the field. “Let’s hope the Servants shot first, right?”
Horan pulled his eyepatch over his one functioning eye. “Nope… Don’t… Don’t wanna think about that right now. I need an extra minute to lie down... And I also want to get inside as fast as I can. Preferably both at the same time.”
Omet looked over at their currently blind friend. “I just try to keep a blind spot over the ground and look over all the dead stuff. Also, breathe through your mouth. Definitely do that.”
“I’ll do you one better.” While Horan shakily got to his feet, he twirled his hand in the air. His shoulder-length hair began to whip around as though there was a strong breeze, and the dust particulate in the air around his head was suddenly blasted away from him. “Smells are a surprisingly small problem when you can just push them out of the air. Now I just need to figure out how to cross the field while blind.”
Omet sighed and took his hand in theirs. “Pretend you’re a balloon, I’ll walk us through it.”
“Oh, uh…” Horan sheepishly floated up until he was seven feet off the ground, making Omet hold their arm parallel to their head. “...Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Omet began to carefully tread over the bodies. “Man, I wish I had a power that’s actually as useful as yours. Mine sucks.”
“Last time I checked,” said Horan, “we would both be dead if you didn’t have your exact set of abilities.”
“Right, because separating soul boosters from a megalomaniacal mass-murderer is something that totally comes up all the time.”
Omet stepped around something that they couldn’t even vaguely identify in spite of their impressive knowledge of global fauna, which concerned them, but they didn’t feel like derailing the conversation. Also, Horan may have wanted to look and could end up throwing up on Omet’s face. “...Of course there’s going to be a use for what I can do, but niche stuff is always gonna be useless, especially when I’m limited to splitting stuff exclusively in two. But hey, I guess being in two places at once is coming in handy right now, so I suppose it’s actually a lot less niche now that I need to be in charge of things.”
Horan’s grip on Omet’s hand relaxed. “...So, are you or aren’t you disappointed by your powers?”
“Good question. You can come down now.”
Horan came back to earth and moved his eyepatch back over to the side of his face that needed it. Apparently, the density of corpses petered out with proximity to the castle, with the grass remaining functionally spotless about a hundred feet from the front gate. “Awesome. All I need to do now is not look behind me… That’s actually weirdly hard right now?”
“Yeah, I feel that.” Omet stared at the imposing wooden gate that seemed to be the castle’s sole entrance, shrugged, and knocked as hard as they could without bruising their fingers. The sound produced was pathetic.
“You’re supposed to use the ring.”
Omet glanced at the cast-iron knocker set into the door. “Oh right, that’s what those are for.”
They grabbed the ring and lifted it away from the door before Horan grabbed their arm. “Actually, uh, maybe we should just do a super quick last-minute crash course on, um, basic etiquette, right?”
Omet let go of the knocker, which had its impact against the door softened by a desperate cushion of air from Horan. Omet cringed slightly at the sight. “Sorry. But when you say ‘crash course’, is this an impromptu class, or…?”
“Just… Thirty seconds. In and out.” Horan closed his eye and took a deep breath. “I know you don’t really want to do this, because of the whole bending-over-backwards-to-please-strangers-who-might-not-even-give-you-anything-in-return-if-they-don’t-feel-like-it thing–” He gasped for air. “–but the only way we can get in their good books is by playing by their rules, so… The faster we can get the Indians to at least play along, the better. Keep things quick, act like someone who’s easy to deal with, and the faster we can start to just coast through, the better for both of us. I know, I know you would rather do anything else, but can you work with me on this, just this once?”
Omet shook their head and sighed. “Sure thing. At least neither of us want to prolong this too bad.”
“Great. Thanks. You’ll probably have to take the lead, but I’ll feed you what you have to do when I can.” Horan waved his hand and the knocker was pushed away from the door, landing back into place with a loud thud.
Omet stepped back and stared at the door. “...So, do we just wait now?”
“Of course, we showed up unannounced. Plus, they’ll want to make us desperate, it’s pretty standard procedure.” After a moment of silence, Horan folded his arms. “Small talk, while we can get it, uh… So, I wonder how Rachna’s doing. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen him. I think the last time I saw him was before that business with the Seraphium, actually, wow…”
Omet looked over at Horan. “Se– The what? Like an angel?”
Horan snorted. “Oh, right, Deus doesn– didn’t like mentioning it. Probably because of the insufferably stupid name that we refuse to let him change. I’ll tell you about that once we’re inside and can hang out alone, it’s just another reason why Rachna’s the best. He’s the exception to the rest of the Domain, you’ll love him.”
A tiny square on the otherwise pristine wall slid backwards, creating a tiny hole almost directly in front of the two Primoi outside. Whispering was just barely audible through the opening for a few minutes, then the removed rectangle of stone was pushed back into place.
A moment later, the doorway slowly began to open. Omet and Horan were forced to take a few steps backward to make way for its wide arc. On the other side was an impressively tall, red-eyed Primus in a tuxedo standing regally in the middle of the doorway, staring at the two of them expectantly. “Horan. And Horan’s companion.”
Horan waved and cracked the widest smile he could manage without looking insane or, worse, desperate. “Kuravaan! Hi! Man, it’s been a while, hasn’t it…? I, um, I lost an eye, that’s something.” He patted Omet on the shoulder, then paused for a moment. “...This is Omet, leader of the Aztec Domain.”
Omet waved. “Hey.”
“Introductions aside, the two of us would like to discuss a few of the more recent…” Horan tried not to think of the carnage behind him. “...Issues that it seems we’ve all been dealing with recently.”
Kuravaan shrugged and turned around. “Of course. We know that you could do with a figurative roof over your heads for a while, especially given what we have heard of the, ah, current state of Horan’s home. You may enter.” He began walking back inside.
Horan sighed with relief and strode after Kuravaan into a roofless hallway, pulling Omet in with him. His free hand twitched, creating whispers in Omet’s ear. “Okay, I can’t do all of this myself, and these people are very much aware of how little power I have. You definitely gotta do the heavy lifting here, dude. No more silent treatment, got it?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Omet groaned quietly and whispered back. “Fine, but you’re my wingman. I neither can nor will do all this myself.”
Horan nodded. “That’s the whole reason I’m here.”
“And can you please let go of me?” Omet pulled their sleeve out of Horan’s grip. “I know which way to go.”
Kuravaan looked over his shoulder. “Everything alright back there?”
Horan cracked another smile. “No complaints here.”
“Excellent.” Kuravaan smirked and looked back ahead. “So sorry for the mess outside, by the way, but we Indians do what we must to keep our loved ones safe. Pretend it’s not there, we’ll move all that to the side when we can.”
Their conversation halted, Omet and Horan looked around at their new surroundings. Kuravaan had brought them through a hallway into a courtyard, surrounded by painted and plant-covered walls. Compared to the bloodshed outside, the interior of the castle was immaculate. The fountains were almost excessive in their frequency, golden ribbons hung from lines crossing between walls, lights were buried in the sides of the footpaths, and likely more that the two simply failed to notice. It was like the outside section of a restaurant that middle-class humans went to to feel rich.
While they and Horan were being led through the courtyard, Omet decided to start explaining the situation to their host. “So, Mis– Mister, uh, Kuravaan, we’re here b–” They blinked from a gust of wind blowing across their face. “Uh, never mind.” They glanced at Horan, confused.
Horan shook his head. “Not yet, don’t look too desperate to get to the point. If you look like you think that you can’t manage things by yourself, they might not see us as worth the investment.”
“Alright, but he totally heard me.”
Horan sighed. “Yeah… Just try to pretend like this is a one-time screwup, we can try to ignore it.”
“I’ll do my best, I guess.”
Horan sighed. “We should’ve gotten you something nice to wear.”
Kuravaan led the two of them through one of the courtyard’s other entrances, bringing them into an airy sitting room. Similar courtyards could be seen through the room’s windows.
Kuravaan gestured for them to take a seat on two padded chairs situated on one side of the coffee table, both of which turned out to be even more comfortable than they looked. Kuravaan, meanwhile, remained standing. “Sorry again, it must have been quite unpleasant to have to go through something as grisly as that. But as we’ve heard, the Aztecs and, er, associates, have been having the same problem?”
Horan sat for a moment in silence, then tapped Omet’s arm.
Omet started. “Uh, yeah, that’s right. Unless there are two Primus-hunting cults going around, right?” They let out a chuckle, which quickly turned into silence as their opener was met with silence in turn.
Horan sighed and leaned forward. “Well, they’re not wrong. We can tell things haven’t been easy around here, ah, for you, and the two of us think that a more, um, unified front between our Domains would lower the risk of one or all of our Domains getting wiped out by these Servants, as I have heard them be called. How are things going on your front, regarding that whole business?”
Kuravaan shook his head and waved dismissively. “Oh, no need to worry about how things are here, everything is under control for us. If we become desperate, we might call you, but we’re sure that won’t happen anytime soon.”
A Primus entered the room through a door on the far wall, holding a tray with a pitcher of water and two glasses. Kuravaan paused as the attendant placed the tray on the coffee table between him and the guests. “Thank you, Kunesh.”
Omet decided to continue the conversation. “Gr–”
Kuravaan held up a single finger, then took one of the glasses and allowed the attendant to fill it up.
He took a single sip before continuing. “We’ve established what you need help with, but what sort of details do you have? We can only assume that time isn’t on your side, this time around.”
“Well…” Horan frantically exchanged hand gestures with Omet over the last remaining glass. “...We really don’t mean to rush you or anything. However, we’re willing to accommodate you while we tide you over. Preparations for a dinner party are being made back at our place, and I’m sure you can just teleport over and enjoy some Aztec-slash-Greek-slash-Egyptian hospitality before we all unite to save our collective hides?”
Kuravaan only began to take another sip once Horan was done speaking. “Oh, we’re sure that you could host us, and we have no doubt that it won’t be much of an issue for us. However, it would almost certainly be quite the time sink for us, and we’d rather not put in the effort if we don’t get anything in return. What can you offer our Domain, aside from a nice evening?”
Omet glanced at Horan, who was staring at them as intently as he could manage. “Uh… I mean, it is true that you seem to be doing alright for yourselves, but… we… can… offer a more permanent solution?”
Kuravaan raised an eyebrow. Horan raised both.
Omet continued. “Sure, you might have the day-to-day attacks on your home under control, but from what little my Domain knows, we can reasonably assume that there must be millions of Servants. Plus, I saw the bodies outside. We know about those weird monster-things too. Odds are, however the Servants make them, they can probably make more. But the thing about that is, we’ve got some information about their ringleader. We took in a Primus yesterday who got a good look at them while her Domain was being wiped out, and she’s currently on a scouting operation to try and figure out potential next moves. We’ve got a good deal of info on these people, is what I’m saying. The playing field is being leveled as we speak.”
Kuravaan put the glass back on the tray. It appeared to contain just as much water as it had when it was first filled up. Omet waited for a moment, but he said nothing.
Omet finished their point. “So unless you feel like dealing with these humans and their grotesque (yet admittedly really cool) perversions of natural life for the next decade or so, as a guess, you should probably at least humor us. We’d rather not let all of our preparations go to waste.”
Kuravaan sighed, which, Horan noted, sounded unexpectedly relieved. “Well, I– we suppose we have little choice in the matter. What time is this dinner party?”
Horan’s sigh was far less subtle in the amount of relief it carried. “Well, we don’t really plan to start until you arrive, but you can show up at six. In the evening. Your time.”
“Mm-hmm…” Kuravaan took a step away from the two of them. “Well, we shan’t hurry.”
“Nah,” said Omet, moving to get up out of the awful chair.
“And,” blurted Horan as he pushed Omet back into their seat, “it obviously just goes without saying that we’ll be staying with you until then, as is the very prominent tradition for personal invitations to parties amongst Primoi. Isn’t that right, Omet?”
“Um…” Omet tensed their shoulder, which Horan was gripping extremely tightly. “...Right. Of course.”
“...Naturally.” Kuravaan pursed his lips and left the room.
Once the clacking of Kuravaan’s heels on the tiles was gone, Horan let go of Omet. “Sorry. Reflex. Your shoulder okay?”
“Maybe a couple minutes of bruising, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Anyway…” Horan slapped his own forehead. “I didn’t even mention any of the messenger rules beforehand?! I– It’s this whole thing, and– Wow, I’m never the one delivering the message, I’ve just kind of picked up the rules from how other people from other Domains act while in my house… I might not be the best teacher for this.”
Omet groaned. “So we just stay here for the rest of the day? That’s a rule?”
“It’s meant as a sign of both trusting and being trustworthy, I think. When people don’t, it’s usually interpreted that their Domain is up to something that they don’t want you knowing about.”
“Sure, of course.” Omet shifted in their seat. “Do you think we can ask for an exception this time, because of the whole urgency of the matter? We’ve got them locked down now, I feel like hanging around these people for nine hours would just give us— by which I mean me— more time to screw this up. Because I did notice that that guy didn’t actually come to a decision. Odds are, he’s still messing with us and is only gonna promise that they’re gonna come at the last minute.”
Horan brought his hands up to his lips. “Nah, it’s normal to not act like a decision is easy, it makes the other Domain feel like they’re asking for a lot, we just need to play it cool until then. But hey, it could’ve gone worse. We weren’t laughed out of the building. Which is good, because we… We do need these guys to teleport home now.”
Omet slumped. “Yeah, well, I just did a lot of the decision-making there on autopilot. These things feel like they should have a manual, because this does not come naturally. Can’t we– ugh, Are you sure that I can’t just ask to make an exception here? See if two reasonable ‘adults’ can help each other out when times are tough?”
Horan snorted. “Nope. Trust me, I wish leaders could go make changes to stuff like this. It’s been like this since before Deus manifested. We’re stuck here until tonight, dude. I guess I shouldn’t have expected A-grade negotiations from a first-timer, though, I guess. I said ‘I guess’ twice, I’m sorry.”
Omet shrugged. “Well, it’s not the worst thing that could happen, not really. Now we get a better idea of who we’re recruiting. Plus, I do kinda want to know how these people managed to do that kind of damage.” They nodded in the vague direction of the entrance. “I wasn’t really sure that people like them would be all that helpful, but it seems like something we should clear up before we let these people into our house.”
Horan nodded. “Seems like a good idea for you to want to know a bit more about these people while you have the chance, but I would like to remind you that they’re our first and last option. But I’m not gonna shut you down, you’re in charge this time around… Okay, I’m gonna get up now, this chair is making me antsy.”