Chương 33: The Starboy Is... Delectable?

.. Delectable?

The thing beneath the lake looked at them. The riders had wanted to mount their horses ever since they reached the lake, but it was too late now. Even their horses seemed to understand that they should remain quiet, lowering their heads as the ripples spread across the water. The spirits around the shore had already lowered themselves, and the two riders followed a breath later, dropping to one knee without needing anyone to command them. Tiny looked at them, then at Guinevere, then quickly lowered himself too.

Enel bowed only when Guinevere did, and soon, the lake rose. Not the water. The lake itself, or at least that was what it seemed like. A great shape pushed through the surface without breaking it, as if the creature were wearing the lake as a gown. Scales glimmered below the surface, each one reflecting the dimming sky. The creature... seemed to have no face at all, and it had no eyes like some of the spirits, either.

There were only two deep lights on top of the rising lake, as if the entire lake was staring down at them. Its body moved in slow circles beneath the surface. Long tendrils trailed from its sides, some thick as tree roots, others thin as threads. They drifted through the lake without disturbing it, circling the water, the shore, and the gathered spirits. It was... quite hard to understand what it was they were looking at.

"What..." Tiny's head lowered further.

"We are going to die, are we not? We are." The Great Spirit's gaze trailed across them, then settled on Enel. And then, it spoke. And despite its unmanly and unbeastly nature, it... spoke like men.

"Little starboy."

"It... it can talk?" Tiny's eyes widened.

"It... I think it's talking to you, M'lord!" Guinevere's eyes quickly snapped toward Enel. The Great Spirit moved, turning the lake along with it. The small spirits surrounding the water were all being washed away. Enel was about to move, but Guinevere quickly clamped a hand around his wrist.

"Do not, My Lord," she whispered.

"The spirits are not dying, but merely returning to what they truly are. Parts of one." Enel glanced at her for a while, then turned his focus back to the Great Spirit of the Lake... only to find the two orbs already just inches away from his face. Tiny almost stumbled back, the only reason why he didn't was that he was completely frozen in fear.

"No earth, no green, no field, no Breath belongs to you here." Enel, on the other hand, did not look away at all. He was almost mesmerized by the two lights that seemed to see through him.

"You are far from home." The air seemed to grow colder as mist began to form from the lake.

"Was I... not supposed to leave home, Great Spirit?" The lake stilled when he spoke, and even Guinevere started to look uncomfortable as she lowered her head. The spirit's tendrils danced beside it, dragging the spirits that had not yet found their way to it.

"Go home, little starboy. You have no place here."

"But... I do?"

"If you remain, your people will come."

"My... people?" Enel whispered.

"Widow's Wall?"

"Go home. You are not one of—" And the leaf-deer spirit moved. It circled Enel's feet for a moment, then stepped onto the water. Its hooves did not sink, but its body flickered once, then came apart into leaves and small lights, which were also washed away by the lake. And then, the lake went quiet for a moment. The Great Spirit looked at Enel again.

"Oh..." It hummed.

"... Perhaps you have a place, after all." Then... it just sank. There was no splash, nor a wave. The water simply went flat. The spirits that were not taken by the Great Spirit looked around, then slowly melted down into the shore without any more ceremony. Soon, the lake was only a lake. Enel stepped forward, and a large carp surfaced near the shore. It opened its mouth once, then vanished beneath the water. Still, Enel bowed to the carp. Tiny stared at him.

"Was that still the Great Spirit?"

"I do not know."

"You just bowed to a fish."

"Yes."

"Why are we always bowing?" And with that question lingering in the air, the riders began turning around. None of them wanted to stay there a moment longer. Guinevere remained at the shore longer than any of them. She stared at the place where the Great Spirit had disappeared, her fingers moving slightly as if she were writing in the air without Script. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"My Lady?" But afterward, she took Enel's hand and mounted her horse with his help. They returned to the road after that, though none of them truly returned to the mood they had before. Guinevere finally opened her book again, but instead of reading, she wrote several lines, stopped, scratched them out, and wrote again. The day passed into another, and then another. Nothing like Dalerly or the spirits found them again, though Enel made certain he helped anyone he could along the way.

He helped lift another wagon that was stuck in mud. Then, he carried away a fallen tree blocking the road, not knowing... it was supposed to be a bandit's trap. Of course, the bandits didn't dare to come out when they saw him casually throw the tree away. He also stopped for a woman who lived by the road, whose goat had climbed onto her roof and refused to come down.... The goat did not appreciate being brought down.

"You should have left it on the roof, M'lord." By the fourth day, the air grew colder. The green fields thinned into stone and hard grass. Hills rose around them, then became sharper, taller, and darker, until the road itself seemed to climb toward the belly of the mountains. Snow lay in patches between rocks, not enough to cover everything, but enough to make Tiny wrap his arms around himself and glare at the sky.

"Am I the only one that's cold?" he said through chattering teeth. He turned to Guinevere, who was now wearing a full coat.

"What the—since when were you wearing that?!" It wasn't just her. The two riders behind them also now had coats on. He was so focused on Enel, who could probably survive winter naked, that he didn't notice everyone else had draped themselves in wool. Guinevere tucked her book into her coat.

"The Crown's Guild was built high so that those who reached it would remember effort before honor."

"I do not think the horses understand that, M'lady." Enel lightly chuckled at that, then his head tilted to the side.

"There are people in the rocks," he said. Tiny quickly glanced up at the slope around them, and true enough, shadows were moving around.

"Guards of the Crown's Guild," Guinevere muttered.

"We are near." The road curved around a sheer wall of black stone, and then the Crown's Guild came into view just as she said it would. It had no outer wall. And perhaps it did not need one at all. The mountain itself rose behind it, and the Guild had been carved into its side. Towers jutted from the stone at uneven heights. Bridges crossed between them. Banners snapped in the cold wind, black and silver and crimson, each one marked by different insignias.

The main gate was enormous, tall enough for a dragon to enter without bowing. Even from afar, they could see the carvings in the dark wood.

"How... much do you think that door is worth, M'lord?"

"... Probably more than Widow's Wall," Enel said, sighing as he shook his head. They slowly approached the gate, and the guards there straightened as soon as they saw Guinevere. There were four in plain sight, but Enel heard more above them. The two riders rode ahead and dismounted first to speak with the guards. When they approached, however, they all stopped their conversation.

"Lady Guinevere," one of the guards said, bowing deeply.

"The Guild welcomes you back." Guinevere nodded.

"Has Marshal Uller been informed?"

"He has, My Lady." The guard's eyes then moved to Enel. He bowed again. Not as deeply as he had bowed to Guinevere, but deeper than he had bowed to the riders. His gaze moved over Enel's golden hair, the old red cape, the Blackwood deer on his chest, and the way the cold wind gently moved his hair.

"My lord," the guard said.

"Welcome to the Crown's Guild." Enel bowed back.

"Thank you." Tiny looked at the guard, then at Enel, then slowly straightened his own back. And while the soldiers were speaking with the guards, one of the other guards, farther from them, leaned toward his colleague.

"Is that him?" he whispered, but not quiet enough to escape Enel and Tiny. The other guard did not move his lips much.

"Quiet."

"It's him... the Oathrunner?"

"Shh. We're not supposed to speak while on duty." Enel blinked. Guinevere looked at him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, though his eyes moved toward the guards. The two riders finished speaking, and one of them gestured toward the enormous gate. Enel and Tiny both stepped back slightly, waiting for the great doors to open.... And then wait.

"Uh..." Tiny looked at Enel.

"It's not opening, M'lord."

"... I know." Enel squinted. But before they could keep asking questions, they heard a small creak from the side.

"What are you doing?" Guinevere was there, standing in front of a smaller door that had already opened.

"We... are waiting for the gate to open, My Lady."

"That gate is opened for ceremonies, armies, and funerals only."

"Oh..." And so, they just entered through the smaller door. But no sooner had they stepped inside, the fog whispering from their breaths faded.

"Scripts in the walls," Guinevere said, noticing Enel and Tiny's confused faces.

"Heating, circulation, moisture control, and other small conveniences."

"... You can put scripts on walls?" The hall beyond was vast. Stone pillars rose higher than most houses in Widow's Wall. Portraits lined the walls, each one larger than a door, showing men and women in armor. Some held swords, and some held staffs by their side. Some stood beside beasts Enel had only seen in books. Beneath each portrait was a name and a title. Crown's Knights. Heroes. Commanders. People whose stories had been written before Enel was born. And from the balconies above, people watched.

Trainees, perhaps. Young nobles. Squires. Pages. Whatever they were... Enel could feel all their eyes on him. He was tempted to listen to their words, but refrained from doing so.

"Ah!" And then footsteps approached. The man walking toward them was dressed in a deep blue coat, and a pale red scarf rested around his throat despite the warmth of the hall. His hair was dark and curled at the ends, and he had rings on all his fingers. He moved with... a certain grace.

"Oh... Lamb would like him," Tiny whispered, but Guinevere quickly glared at him.

"Lady Guinevere," the man said, bowing with one hand over his chest. His voice was warm, smooth, and amused all at once.

"You arrive... later than expected, and with half the mountain whispering behind you."

"Marshal Uller," Guinevere said. Tommen's eyes moved to Enel, and for the briefest moment, his brows lifted. He bowed again, politely and without hesitation.

"And you have brought company. If I knew you were bringing a guest, I would have dressed for the occasion."

"Huh...?" Tiny raised an eyebrow, staring at the overdressed man from head to toe. Tommen completely ignored him, however, as he opened his arms in front of Enel.

"My lord, welcome to the Crown's Guild." Enel bowed back.

"Thank you, Marshal." Guinevere opened her mouth.

"This is—""Yes, yes, one moment, dear girl." Marshal Uller suddenly turned toward the broader of the two riders, the one who had a large scar over his face and blonde hair.

"And you must be the young terror His Grace wrote about. The Hero of the West Camp."

"Huh?" The rider blinked, then he slowly pointed toward a certain direction. Marshal Uller followed the finger, and Enel... just stood there.

"Ah," Marshal Uller said. He looked Enel over again, slower this time, then smiled while shaking his head.

"Forgive me, young lord. It did not cross my mind that the Hero of the West Camp would be so... delectable."

"... Huh?" Tommen's smile widened.

"Shall we see, then?"

"See... what?"

"If you are truly as mythic as they say." Tommen lifted hands and clapped.

"Roger!" Someone dropped from the balcony above and landed behind him with one knee on the floor. Tiny looked up, and there was nowhere for this Roger to have dropped from.

"Yes, Marshal?"

"Ready the testing grounds."