by Kell Inkston
Dresmond nods as if interested. “Well flavor’s everything for some people, I guess.”
“Y-yeah! I don’t get why you wouldn’t drink what you like- I mean, are some people insecure or what?” Lain says with a huge, awkward grin.
Dresmond nods again. “Some people are pretty insecure- full agreement on that.”
Lain bobs his head and clears his throat. “Right, so you don’t get to drink on the line?”
Dresmond looks to Lain as if it were a ridiculous question. “Well, no. There’s not really any beer to go around. They sort of push us out there and tell us to keep marching until we find enemies, then we camp around there killing ‘em. Not all that cushy— we have to get just about everything off the land or other soldiers.”
Lain draws back with a raised brow, throwing down his drink in a single go- it’s ridiculously tasty; he can see why girls like it. He takes a breath and responds. “Sorry to hear… I guess I have it sort of lucky. In Kanvane the students are served a pint with each dinner once they’re sixteen, and students in the A plus range get unlimited access to the scholar’s bar.”
Dresmond’s teeth clench in something resembling both envy and pity- an oxymoronic, offhandedly-superior feeling. For a moment, Dresmond wonders just what incredible things he would have accomplished if he had a full paid tuition to go to Kanvane Magic Academy— largely thought to be the most prestigious school on the entire planet, the playground of the next generation’s kings, queens, lords and ladies. “I heard. It’s a surprise they can keep their students actually doing work instead of partying all day,” Dresmond responds plainly.
Lain shrugs. “I heard it gets pretty crazy.”
Dresmond squints an eye as he readjusts his glasses. “Heard?”
“Oh, uh… Yeah,” Lain looks to the side. “I wasn’t quite good enough to make the cut. I was top of my class… in some classes.”
Dresmond nods. “What classes?”
Lain pushes forward his glass with a sheepish smile. “…Painting.”
There’s a quick, blink-of-the-eye moment when both boys recognize how pathetic Lain really is in comparison to others with the same quality of upbringing, most of which by this point would be conjuring up beasts or creating metals from magical substances.
“I see… Well don’t let it get you down. The Knights need people of all kinds; you don’t have to be a skilled mage, or even good in a fight, to honor us— you just have to give it your all.”
Lain squints a brow. “My all?”
Dresmond smirks bemusedly. “Of course. How much would you trust me if I weren’t willing to bite the heel of a giant to save your life?”
The lively clinking of mugs and music throughout the tavern washes over the two as Lain stares at his empty, girly glass, now at the end of the bar. “… Would you really do that for me?”
Dresmond readjusts his spectacles. “Of course.”
“Even if it killed you?”
Without a pause, Dresmond nods. “Yes. Knights are examples to others. To be frank— if there was someone more important and I had to choose, I won’t lie, I’d choose the VIP.” Lain nods, finding it a perfectly fair conjecture, and Dresmond continues. “But if it were just you, and just me, and just some Easterner pointing a gun at you— I’d jump in the way.”
Lain taps the bar with his index finger thoughtfully. “So what if you were the higher ranked man? What if you were so important that it’d be a waste on me?”
Dresmond looks aside, scratches his chin and sighs. “While this time as a knight on loan to the W.K.D.R.’s been… tough for me, that kind of 'efficient' thinking is only for warzones- and as such because it works there. But in the life of The Knights, we must be willing to be a stepping stone for others— even if it means our life. If one person cannot sacrifice himself for another, it is a display of character that does not shine well on him. If one can sacrifice himself, however, it brings honor and glory to all of us. It’s a difficult choice, obviously, but I’d think it’d be well worth it.”
Lain looks down at the bar, resting his elbows on it and crossing his arms. “So you mean to say that everyone in the knights should be willing to sacrifice themselves for others?”
“With a few exceptions, yes. As a knight it’s our duty to…” His features sour awkwardly. “…well, to show love to others, really.”
Lain’s expression quickly turns perplexed. “Really?”
Dresmond squints an eye in humor. “You know that though, right? It was in the assigned readings for training.”
Lain inhales sharply through his teeth, and Dresmond shrugs before breaking the awkward pause. “Yeah, well I didn’t get through it all either. I did read though, that while as knights we are often seen as the ‘defenders of the realm from threats internal, external, common and supernatural’, King Rayda’s primary goal for the creation of The Royal Knights was to make society a kind, generous, loving place— in which people do things for others simply because they want them to have better lives. A sort of voluntary social cast dedicated to humanitarian efforts.”
Lain hums and brushes his chin. “So like, we’re meant to show people we care about them, and that’s supposed to be how they care about others as well? Does that really work?”
Dresmond nods. “You can teach people to care, but it’s difficult. You plant a seed of love in their life and it might take years before it sprouts into something that others will see. So you plant a lot- it takes time. Really, it’s a bunch of little things— daily acts of goodness to another, I think.”
Lain’s expression is somehow both touched and bewildered. “But... like, wait a minute... what?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’?”
"Aren’t we all about kicking monsters and dragons and shit?”
Dresmond scoffs, surprised a literal boy from the towers would have such a simple view of their work. “Well, yeah, but that’s just one way we show it. You’re freshly out of training, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So I take it you’ve never spent time in the K.R.C.?”
“K.R.C.?”
“Knight Relief Corps.”
“Ahh.” Lain raises his brows in some sort of realization. “So that’s what they do. I thought they were for delivering supplies to other knight outposts and such.”
“Well, that too, but they're mostly for educating the people of the kingdoms on how to take care of themselves. They teach medicine and agriculture, among other things, to anyone for free.”
Lain leans back a bit. “So as a knight, we should do anything to show the people around us that we care?”
“Yup.”
“What if they don’t care for us in return?”
“That’s not our job- we must give freely without expecting anything in return.”
Lain hums. “So… but how would that work if they just took everything we had?”
“Knights don’t look at value that way. We’ll make as much as necessary. There’s always a line that can be drawn, but being a Royal Knight, you’re tagged with the expectation that you can solve any problem within reason and within a timely manner; sort of a ‘competence guarantee, if you will’”
Lain nods— for some reason, only now, once he’s thought on it, does it really seem to have an appeal. “You know… that’s actually pretty cool.”
Dresmond nods in agreement. “Once you get back to New Reinen, you should go to the library and ask for ‘The First Foundation: A History’.”
“Yeah?” He asks, instantly hating the sound of the title.
“It clears up a lot. It was part of the assigned reading, but obviously most trainees B.S. it because it’s like six hundred damn pages.”
Lain nods calmly. “Alright. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
There’s a short silence. “I think I’m gonna take a walk around the place.” Lain puts his payment on the bar and stands up from his stool.
Dresmond nods. “Alright. Have a good night.”
“You too… Thanks.”
Dresmond raises his pint with a slim smile, and Lain steps out into the night. He feels like he fits in now, though his puzzle piece is obviously different from the fairies’ whom he had so long envied. His is that of a knight’s.
Chapter Twelve: Cookin’ up a Sweet Escape
Liefland’s royal kitchen is stocked high with curling ironwood fairy utensils and stuffed to the brim with the wood’s finest ingredients. It is here that Aoline pulls in the group of three minions held captive by arcane shackles, the sort that open only should the operator be trusted by the creator of the binds. As Love obviously does not trust the minions, they cannot mess with the chains; Aoline Rayworth on the other hand is just-trusted enough by Love to be able to manipulate them.
The minions are calmly harbored in by Aoline’s wrist, the three of them waiting for the opportune moment to make their move. Now in front of an array of magic cooking equipment and ingredient cabinets, Aoline turns to the cooking Minion.
“Alright, here we are,” Aoline says with a hint of expectation in her voice. Cooking Minion stands about with a dull look.
“Yeah, we are,” he says with smirk.
Aoline gestures at the cabinets, stoves, ovens, and gestures back to him. “Well? Go! I’m hungry!” she demands, under the impression that waving her hands about will somehow improve his speed. Cooking Minion sighs.
“A little hard to cook connected to these wise guys,” he says, delivering to Aoline an intent stare. Aoline thinks a moment, and shrugs.
“Mmm, good point,” she says, knowing that if he tries to escape she can just smash him to a pulp with her enchanted sword, the only sort of mix that would damage them, let alone kill them, she’s heard. Aoline undoes the shackle around Cooking Minion’s neck, and he suddenly lightens up.
“Why, thank you!” he says, turning about to quickly get to work, “What do you want?”
“Eh, something good, a-and quick,” she orders as she takes a seat on the ground next to the other two minions. Cooking Minion bows.
“Most certainly; just give me a bit and I’ll set you up with the greatest food you’ve ever eaten. Why, you might become as fat as useless as-”
“I swear,” Combat Minion snaps coldly.
“Yeah, bite me, Combat Minion. At least I’ve actually contributed to the group dynamic, you dweeb, no one’ll make a t-shirt outta your ugly ass.” Cooking Minion says with a wry, white smile as he begins shuffling through the cabinets for cooking ingredients. Combat Minion begins visibly huffing in anger, mouth opening wide enough to comfortably fit Cooking Minion’s head.
“You! ... Youuu-”
“Are the most useful and versatile member in the group? Yes, thank you, Combat Minion. Say, how about a song?” Cooking Minion says, quite appreciating the freedom to offend his comrade without worry. Combat Minion snaps his large jaws at Cooking Minion, whose almost finished gathering ingredients.
“Ohhhhh, so good to be useful~ What a joy, every day, it is, in every way, to not be a fat and useless brat, like Coooooombat Miniiiionnnnn~” Cooking Minion sings chipperly, quickly receiving a stare of death from Combat Minion, and a look of humor from Aoline; who really does find his serenade strangely charming.
“Just you wait, Cooking Minion. Your time will come,” Combat Minion threatens in a tone Cooking Minion doesn’t like all that much. It is at this moment that Cooking Minion decides he will humiliate Combat Minion by single-handedly freeing all three of them; thus proving him the superior.
“Oh, alright, whatever you say, Combrat Minion,” the cook says with a wry grin as he prepares various vessels for cooking. At this, Cooking Minion hums a little tune as he gets to work, heating water and preparing the meats, vegetables, and spices. Aoline sits quietly by Combat and Magic Minions, holding tight to the chains. Eventually, enough time passes that she realizes the uniqueness of the opportunity she’s been given; speaking to minions of the cruel High Overlord himself; she could learn anything about Order’s nemesis, and thus more secrets of Order!
She clears her throat nonchalantly. “So, tell me, minions of evil,” Aoline says, trying to retain at least a little coolness in front of her prisoners. The two chained minions look over, and Cooking Minion answers “yes?” as he continues practicing his delicious craft.
“What’s Chaos like? Not saying that I don’t know him, of course, just on a personal level, I mean,” she asks, trying not to appear too curious. Cooking Minion hums in thought, and answers as he mixes and tastes.
“On a personal level, my dear?”
“Don’t call me that, ... and yes,” Aoline with a raised brow.
“Terrifying badass.”
“Unbelievably terrifying badass.”
“Kind of sexy, but in a terrifying way,” Cooking, Combat, and Magic Minions answer respectively. Aoline chuckles, hearing Magic Minion’s unexpected compliment of the dark lord. Cooking Minion shoots Magic Minion a quick glance the moment he realizes that she is attempting to support the escape through what may be persuasion, rather than trickery.
“How’s that? I guess evil attracts more evil, eh?” Aoline asks, turning to Magic Minion. Combat Minion sighs and rolls his glowing white eyes.
“Well, I suppose it depends on what you find attractive. What are your thoughts on a person that holds limitless power, confidence, intelligence, and riches, his only drawback being … erm, ... occasional memory problems?” Magic Minion asks.
“Occasional, funny,” Combat Minion repeats dryly.
Aoline rubs her chin a moment in thought; she’s never considered someone evil as having any ability to be attractive. “Huh ... you know, actually that- ... no, no it’s too weird, he’s the High Overlord!” Aoline says, waving a hand dismissively. She delivers this thought in a rather elated tone, however, signaling to Magic and Cooking Minion that she’s actually open to this sort of manipulation. Magic Minion smiles, the first time Aoline’s see her do so.
“It’s not weird at all. Overlord Chaos rightfully holds the hearts of all his followers. He’s quite kind if you give him the chance, but he demands authority, and I think those two reasons are why everyone likes him so much,” Magic Minion says.
“Right, definitely not the fact that he’d sma-”
“You know, I could really use some help, miss slave-mistress. Mind letting Magic Minion out of those chains and having her help? It’d be really useful,” Cooking Minion says over Combat Minion. Combat Minion grumbles as Aoline quickly sharpens her gaze.
“No, but nice try. I’ll help you,” she says with a completely satisfied gaze, seeing through what she presumes is treachery on Cooking Minion’s part. She gets up and steps to the counter that cooking Minion is standing on.
“Oh, of course! If that’s what makes your feel most comfortable, go right ahead! Please whip this up for me,” Cooking Minion says with a smile as he hands a large bowl over to Aoline. The knightess begins drilling through the liquid the best she can, and she laxly turns back to look over to Magic Minion.
“So, authority’s what you find so charming about him?” Aoline asks.
She nods. “Among his many other very fine traits, yes. I’d love you to meet him.”
“Heh, maybe when Order and I deal his final blow, sure,” Aoline says with an ambitious, superior smile. Magic Minion huffs.
“I think your view would be drastically changed if you just met him. He’s the greatest overlord to ever live, you know.”
Aoline nods smugly. “Oh, I’m sure.”
“No, really! You’d be surprised how much better life is being a minion! I was a human like you, once.”
“Uh huh,” Aoline murmurs sarcastically as she focuses in on the whipping; it’s tougher than she thought.
“I’m not kidding. You’re fed five square meals a day, you have unrestricted access to Chaos” entire magical library of well over 12,000 tomes, and you have the mentorship and leadership of the most intelligent creature alive. I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t
love that,” Magic Minion says, slyly hitting on all the right points. Just as she starts huffing from the arm-work Aoline stops in thought.
“Really?” Aoline asks.
“Yeah.”
“She speaks the truth. There’s also internet.” Magic and Cooking Minion say respectively. Aoline switches arms.
“Internet?” She asks with an uneven tone.
Cooking Minion grins. “It’s pretty cool. Pretty sure it’s some type of magic aura that he stole from some other dimension. Basically it’s for accessing entertainment archives. He continues to drain internet from their realm even now in order to put on movies for us minions. He’d do anything for us.”
“So, what kind of stuff do you do at the tower?” Aoline asks.
“I cook for the Overlord and eat all I want.”
“Sit around and study magic.”
“Chill out,” the three of the Minions say. Aoline hums.
“Huh, so do you ever do any ... real work?” she says.
“Ha, of course we do. When The Overlord calls, everyone comes running. It’s a great life, but one must be ready to serve the Overlord any time he requests, which can be either once a minute or yearly, depending on the job,” Combat Minion says, cross-legged on the floor.
“Yearly?”
“Yeah. For example Chaos rarely calls on Operator Minions, so they usually just spend their time making fun of other Minions for not being Operator Minions- the assholes,” Combat Minion grunts with a scowl.
“They’re an unpleasant bunch, everyone hates them,” Magic Minion says, thinking of all the times she’s spotted them lying about playing Omni-DeckTM, chess, and whatever else holds their fascination at the present time.
“Yeah, except Scout Minion,” Combat Minion says. “She’s pretty coo-”
“Don’t say that name in my presence!” Cooking Minion screams at Combat Minion as he brandishes a wooden spoon like a shiv.
Aoline cuts through Combat Minion’s laughter as she speaks up. “Interesting. So why don’t you guys become Operator Minions?” she asks as she changes arms again. The three infected by the essence of Chaos share a quick laugh, Cooking Minion lightening up instantly.
