Mahogany laughed like a joyous sultan, and let the clingy starlight spirit down. He broadly motioned over to Birch, who daintily waved and spoke in a considerably softer tone. “Hello again, candle-sleeper.”
Artorian screeched a second time, diving over the back of the couch to tackle Birch to the ground. Squeezed him half to death as the youth forgot he was quite a bit stronger than them. Especially in numbers land. “Birchy! Oh, you lovely splotch-barked beauty. I’m glad to see you again. I heard Hawthorne’s saplings were around as well. It didn’t register at first, but now I’m so excited!”
“Oh, I’m sure. Before that, I believe there is someone else who is hopeful that you are happy to see him.” Birch patted Artorian on the back, then from his prone position on the floor, motioned to the sole occupant of the other couch.
As Artorian got off his friend to help the tree man back up, he turned to see a person exemplifying the definition of stateliness. Was this truly who he thought it was? The human man was gaunt, sporting a trimmed, pointed white moustache that curled up slightly near the endpoints. A short tuft worth in beard, and a matching silvered monocle that all the staff appeared to wear adorned the rest of his face. His attire was the refined version of what Artorian currently wore.
Stately was the exact word for the style, and he didn’t know how else to phrase it. Decorum’s voice was hesitant, the pinnacle of politeness. “Hello… old friend. A delight to reacquaint with you. Thank you, for taking the time t—*hurk*!”
Fancy speech was for people trying too hard. Artorian let his Aura explode, the manufactured light form of his old-self shaping to expand around him. Just like he had done during Halcyon’s dancing lessons and acceptance hugs.
Decorum the stately was far larger than him as a youth, but nice and on par when the light form wrapped its arms around the man. Artorian wasn’t letting him get a single, additional word in. “Decorum. My dearest boy. The memory of my oldest companion. You will never, never, be lacking in my affection for you. You are prized in my heart, and I would very much like to know every last detail of your story.”
Decorum’s walking cane dropped to the floor, his jaw quivering as tears marred his cheeks. Dropping his prized namesake, he squeezed tight around the light form, voice doing its best not to break as he discovered that he wasn’t in the slightest unwanted by the person he hoped to receive recognition from the most. “It… It would be my greatest honor. Father.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eternium was ready this time. Artorian’s light form shattered, and an amount equivalent to what it would have cost drained from his mana bar. The youth staggered, but Decorum had him well in hand as Artorian was reprimanded by the dungeon Core. “Whoops. I keep forgetting where I am. Don’t want to get bonked again.”
Artorian and Decorum settled on the couch, delving so deep into conversation that neither of them noticed Chandra’s arrival. Her attire, a truly fantastic dress of leaf-shaped emeralds in its entirety, didn’t glitter nearly as bright as the overbearing spark of happiness in the stately human’s eyes. Mahogany and Birch cordially welcomed her with all the appropriate bows and mentions that a deity-class entity was entitled to. The sultan was downright reverent. Someone had a crush.
Though, it was the kind of affection one had for something grand and unattainable. The flicker of a moment as one experienced the sublime. Mahogany was of the earth, but every beat of his heart told him she was the earth. There was a wholeness to being in her presence. A connection of belonging and genuine welcome formed in him at each curve of Chandra’s smile. To the Wood Elves, she was a fireplace’s warmth in deep winter cold.
Chandra didn’t mind not being greeted by the two distracted children, who talked while off in their own world. She was pleased as a spring sapling to spend time around the Wood Elves, even if they were classed as ‘Advanced Treants’ in Eternium. She was suddenly plenty busy when the Hawthorne trio burst through the wooden slats of the wall, as if they’d been in a race to get here.
Each perpetual Hawthorn child was distinct. They might have stemmed from the same root, but each had blossomed wildly different. They were stopped in their tracks by a look from Birch, and only then noticed the company. Sir Decorum was present! So was some odd shiny pipsqueak, and… Oh. The Gaia. Right, best behavior it was.
Their wildling forms shaped appropriate attire over themselves in a hurry, making it seem as if the little monsters classed as branch wraiths had been dressed all along. They swiftly zipped to Birch’s side, pretending to behave. The little brats. They loved to just make a mess of things, but there was an order that was counterproductive to fun if opposed.
Sir Decorum glanced away from the conversation at hand mid-laugh. Registering there were more souls present than he’d accounted for. “Ah! Excellent. A moment, my dear friend. I must greet Lady Gaia with sincere propriety.”
Artorian didn’t know how to describe someone’s very walk as stately. Not even when he watched the man-shaped beast effortlessly go through the motions. Honestly, Decorum, pick a second theme! The pause from Chandra being welcomed did provide opportunity for the troublemaking trio to slide up on the couch with Artorian. Having learned some of the old social conventions, they offered their branch-fingers to shake.
Close enough. Artorian wasted no time with a reply in kind, slapping his wrist to theirs for a mercenary’s grip with a solid shake. “Well hello. Nice to meet you three. What do you go by? Please let it not be another rose-based name.”
The trio snickered. They liked this one. Saying hello by poking snide commentary at an upper-echelon member of their social sphere? Spicy. “Nice to branch out and furl your acquaintance. We’re the Hawthorn trio, but individually we go by Chaos, Entropy, and Discord. For fun.”
Artorian’s pleasant attitude melted away to utter concern. Why did that sound so veeeery familiar, and why did he not like the creeping sensation that came with it? Know what? Why not have some fun. “Lovely names. It makes me think you might even believe mine.”
The trio’s voices resounded as one. They hushed conspiratorial whispers between themselves, excited faces pushing closer. They loved a good secret! Especially ones nobody believed. When they were close, Artorian placed the back of his hand next to his mouth and hushed breathily. “My name is Love.”
Chaos, Entropy, and Discord couldn’t believe their luck. The things they could do with that. Discord grinned his bark face from… well, he didn’t have ears, but the equivalent of a big smirk plastered on his faceplate.
Artorian found the opportunity to nudge in a question. Might as well since he had them hooked. “Why, my boys, did you take those names?”
The trio snickered and sat up with him on the couch. But a sharp sound occurred on the other side of the room, some glass shattering near a stumbling Birch. He had accidentally dropped his water, no doubt due to his enamored gazing at Chandra. The four of them all snapped their gazes that way like tiny meerkats, heads turning in unison before they slunk right back into a clearly not-even-slightly-well-intentioned huddle.
Chandra squeezed the bridge of her nose at the notice of the troublesome trio having gained a fourth member. “Oh… Eternium. This is going to come back to bite me.”
Eternium, if he could, would have also squeezed the bridge of his nose. He had enough problems with the original three and, given the track record of newly minted addition number four, this could only end terribly, and with lots of headache for him. No amount of being an all-powerful overdeity let Eternium skew his own rules.
This calamitous cadre, on the other hand, was going to be the source of eons of keister pain. Specifically because of what the original trio liked to do. Even he couldn’t keep his attention on them all the time, and that’s when the little monsters struck.
Chaos, Entropy, and Discord pulled their new friend ‘Love’ nice and snug into their circle. Chaos took the lead in conversation. The branch wraith’s voice was smoother than the other two, his breath naturally minty. “W
e were assigned our names by someone who shouted at us. That or their voice was unnaturally loud. Don’t actually know who, but they were just so perfect. We had to take them. It happened a good few years back. I think ‘years’ is right? We tend to skip out on math lessons.”
Entropy poked him to get back on task. All three of them had the terrible habit of just veering off from what it was they were doing unless they had the checks and balances of the other two. Which was usually more ‘additional fire and enthusiasm’ for whatever crazy stunt they were on about. Rather than anything relating to ‘balances.’ They were fully in the camp of ‘we can make this better,’ when it came to any of their activities.
For Eternium, the Hawthorn trio’s ‘better’ was always worse. It tended to be Entropy who pulled them back down to reality, and he performed that function now. By prodding his digits into Chaos’s sides.
“Enty! That tickles! Anyway. So in the early days, we didn’t really understand what was going on. There was always this… thing? Preventing us from playing. We had to use the numbers, it said. Use the numbers, it repeated. Well, we don’t want to. Sometimes, on rare occasions. The thing that watches us, stops. When it does, that’s when we play around the way we want! Our main gig is to circumvent and find ways around this annoying numbers system that we don’t want to play with. Not when we have a far smoother and better-grown box of toys to pull from.”
Chaos frowned, pausing mid-explanation. “Why did… I just so easily tell you that? That’s more Discord’s thing.”
Artorian smirked. “Because Chaos, you loved telling me. I am so very pleased that you did. I’m on board. Consider me deeply interested in getting around Eternium’s little numbers. Like you, I am very much bonded to my name. I seem to have some official business to get back to, but I would love to continue this talk again sometime.”
He tapped the side of his childish nose with a wink. “When there’s no prying eyes, or eager ears.”
The trio grinned. Cadre power, achieved! With Decorum strolling back to their position, the Hawthorns screeched and scrambled as if Decorum was a big claw-and-fang monster that was coming to get them! Artorian enjoyed a good laugh, all smiles when Decorum sat back down gently. “It appears you’ve made friends already. Though I must warn you, they’re a handful of problem children.”
Artorian snorted. “You say to the problem father.”
The stately man failed to repress the edge of his lips curling up in amusement when Chandra snorted. Needing to turn and look away to recover herself by pressing a hand over her mouth. Her shoulders lifted and dropped with tiny shakes, and Mahogany and Birch beamed at seeing Gaia be stricken by a bout of weak laughter.
Artorian took a proud sip from his water. “It’s a frosty day in the Fringe before some bark spirit can one-up me on shenanigans.”
He motioned at Mahogany and Birch. “If you don’t know yet. Ask them. They easily have five years’ worth of ‘Artorian, no!’ in upset fire-soul cadence to rattle on about. I was, and am, quite the snoot.”
Winking with his cup raised towards his Phantomdusk friends, they faintly looked away in a mixture of embarrassment and impending horror. Recalling some stories as the memories resurfaced.
Setting his water down, Artorian turned to lay his attention back on Decorum. “Chandra told me of a memory stone you wished for me to experience? I’m not sure if I understand the origin of your well of guilt.”
Decorum’s jaws squeezed tight, and the gaunt lines on his face elongated. “May I speak from my heart?”
Artorian reached over and took his hand, squeezing supportively. “I would be remiss if you did anything but.”
The stately man nodded, and produced the memory stone from his pocket. Artorian wondered why Decorum carried something that valuable on his person. Perhaps he’d just been expecting this question to be asked, but wasn’t ready to address it himself without prompting.
Decorum took a breath, then spoke. “When I woke, I was aware of you for moments before something from the heavens struck you down, and then you were out cold in that crater. When I stumbled to get my nose close to yours, I knew you lived, but also that you were not present. I grew quickly those first few hours, fueled by a power not my own, but by thoughts that didn’t belong to me. Spurred by a will… no. A request.”
Decorum twitched, squeezing back on Sunny’s grip. Artorian didn’t mind, remaining supportively still. “Someone wanted me to run. Run wild. Run free. To hunt. To play. To have myself the best of days. I grew fast, and hungered. Around your form, strange containers of enticing smells found my nose, and my nose found buckets and buckets of what I now know to be varieties of milk.”
Artorian slowly nodded, following so far as Decorum recounted his earliest memories. “I devoured the meals present, and then I felt torn as my ability to think grew before my eyes. Confused, and still hungry, I followed my senses and my needs. As you wanted, I went on the hunt. As you wanted, I basked in the warm sun. As you wanted, I ran across endless plains and fields of gold. Each time I did, I felt proud. Because I thought that I would be doing you proud, if only you knew. Yet…”
The room stilled, and Chandra took the treants elsewhere to allow Decorum this precious time to lay his heart bare without interruption. When they were alone, the stately man was able to continue. “Yet it wasn’t what I wanted. I visited you many times. Though as you were immovable, and too dense to affect or so much as budge. I could do naught but sit there and wonder if what I had done for you was… enough.”
He needed a breath, and wasn’t interrupted. “I knew from my advanced growth that my swift mind was something my claws didn’t hold a candle to. I also felt it was present because you had instilled it. I knew that somehow, that tiny form that became ever smaller as I grew larger in comparison, remained responsible not only for bringing me into this world, but had provided all that milk. I realized only later that the place I had been brought was not just optimal for my growth, but perfect. That tiny form had brought me into being in some kind of a rush, at great cost to itself. To get me here. Here, in what for me is paradise.”
Artorian smiled weakly with a frown, pulsing a squeezed grip on Decorum’s paw as his features were growing whiskers. Humanization was a skill Decorum clearly had in spades, but it was never perfect. In Eternium, it was even rather costly unless you unlocked the title that made the second form free. It was a strange, tiny detail, and Artorian wondered how he knew.
A minor glance with a silent ‘inspection’ revealed that Decorum possessed a fat slew of titles, but the one he was thinking of just now was present as well. The whiskers were not due to a cost fluctuation then? A thought for later.
Decorum continued his tale apprehensively. “There came a day when I was so large, and so powerful, that I thought nothing on this land could oppose me. Yet, for all my strength, I could not budge you even a smidge. You remained immobile, and no force I could muster, no assistance I called, no force I attempted to have dealings with could either. I didn’t know if what you wanted me to do was what I was supposed to do. I only knew that you desired it of me. So I did, until I could not. A day came where my mind overtook my physical nature by such an extreme margin that I could no longer consider myself a beast. Or something primal. I longed for the beauty in the world. I longed for a social structure of respect that had nothing to do with my strength.”
Decorum glanced at the small youth that he’d called father. An odd concept to consider, but the stately one knew that something far more ancient resided behind those pain-filled eyes. They were looking at him with such care, actively listening to his burden. He didn’t feel judged, rather it seemed that his creator just wished him to continue.
“When I broke from my path, the one that had weighed on my mind for so long, that was when I actually felt free, and the guilt I felt immediately afterwards sickened and burdened me. Everything responsible for the way I was. The thing I was, I had just abandoned to pursue goals of my own, unrelated entirely in con
cept and thematic structure. I learned art. I threw myself into painting when I was so much as a little humanized. I indulged in architecture and structural components. I adored planning for grand constructions that were grown over eons, rather than built in a few scant years.” Artorian handed him some water, Decorum’s beastly voice was starting to crack from dryness.
Decorum had a sip, downing the entire receptacle. “I came to know people. I learned of social conventions, and found them to be a sort of calling. There is pleasure in speaking properly. A delight in dressing well. It spoke to my soul, and with great regret I flung myself ever deeper into the lifestyle that made me truly feel whole. Except… for that tiny chunk of me, that could not relinquish the memory of a miniscule fallen form, stilled and unmoving in a hole in the ground.”
He took a difficult breath. “So, to abate my guilt, I got my claws on a memory Core after long, grueling quests to attain one. I destroyed lives in pursuit of this goal. I was branded as a monster, and chased from the place I had come to cherish so much. They knew I was no mere man after that, but I could not bear the drain on my spirit.”
Decorum swallowed, now talking with his hands as Artorian did. “Once I had it, I poured memories of my early years into it. So that when eventually, if you came back, whether I passed or not, you would know I tried to be a good son. Tried to be a good brother. Tried my absolute best. To do right by a tiny cub that I remember lying on, in a nest made from bluegrass. Even if that strange memory doesn’t fit any place I have ever encountered.”
Decorum shivered, now more animal than man. His clawed hand tried its best to hand over the Core. Artorian just pulled the liger into his arms, and made Decorum’s feline face press into the crook of his neck. Even young, his arms reached around to rub the back of the big cat’s head. For a moment, his voice wavered. His soul occupied the space of who he was as an old man, rather than a small youth. The depth of an elder speaking. “My dearest Decorum. I do not need a Core to be proud of you. I do not find you guilty of chasing the pursuits that stir your heart. I do not judge you poorly for what you have done with your life. I am only elated that you have filled your heart with events and memories of things that you love.”
Anima: A Divine Dungeon Series (Artorian's Archives Book 6) Page 22
