PSTH: Chapter Fifty

I want to be able to turn into an egg, curse you! Primal eggs can exist in a state of suspended animation for a hundred thousand years while only experiencing a bit more than a tenth of a percent of essence decay, as far as you so-called ‘cultivation experts’ can tell. Why can’t you just place me in an egg to make me basically immortal?! I’ve intentionally not cultivated just to allow for it! If you were half the scientist my dad said you were, then you’d be able to make me the ultimate egg-immortal. Eggmortal! EGG! Muhahahaha!

-

Quote from the bratty young master in a play set during the fall of an Oblivion King, written in 148 Modern-Era

-

Despite the teasing, Laurel and River did join up and help me locate one of the free national hostels to stay at. Neither one of them wanted to stay in the free, lower-quality accommodations or food, though, so I checked in, unpacked a bit, and left Hex in her room – because, even though I was the one who had checked in, it was her room – to nap in the bed. Laurel and River helped best they reasonably could, locking my bike up downstairs, until I came down with Scales trotting next to me and Zale in the storage gem.

Finding a hotel that was both in their price range, and was relatively close to the Tamer’s Consortium building in the town was difficult, and so we spent a lot of time just chatting as we moved around the city streets at a slow walk. 

“How much did you all save?” I asked curiously as the topic of hotel room prices came up. “The hotel in Arkose was fairly cheap, given how remote it was, but even with my UBI deposit, I had to dip into my savings.” 

“Oh, I didn’t really do much active saving for it,” Laurel said, shrugging. “My parents gave me an allotment of ten thousand credits when I turned twenty. I’d been working in reclamation before that, but once I got the money, I turned full tilt toward taming.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my thoughts and opinions on that to myself. It was… unfair. The rise of magic had done a lot to break the idea that homeless people were only homeless because they didn’t work hard or had some moral failing – too many of them had cultivated and fought in the early wars against the factions that would later become the Obsidian Kings. And Oceanseed did a lot for its citizens. But even though I knew that objectively and cognitively, it was still hard to not suppress a surge of jealousy when I heard about someone able to freely have opportunities that I’d had to work for. 

Even setting the issue of my own envy at her having it easy aside, I wasn’t being fair, and I knew that. Laurel had worked hard. She’d tracked down a Procella on her own, searching through the forests around her home. She’d fought against Councillor Alyssa on her own merits. Money couldn't buy Councillor seals.

“Mine’s not really from saving either,” River confessed. “I get a student allotment, as long as I can maintain my grades. That’s what I’ve been doing.” 

I nodded at that, then took a deep breath and let the jealousy pass out of me. It wasn’t healthy to hold onto those sorts of emotions, and it wasn’t really like I was jealous of the money anyways. I was jealous at how much easier she’d had it to pursue her dreams. And it wasn’t like I hadn't had my own share of luck. 

We did eventually find a hotel that had a vacancy, within Laurel and River’s price range, that was also close enough to be walking distance to the consortium, and it was my turn to wait around as they checked in and got settled. While they did, I pulled my augpad from my pocket and opened the page to my page, then let out an audible groan. What Laurel had said wasn’t true – no, it was worse than that. She’d said the comment had been about cheating on a rival. But no, the actual text read “I can’t believe you’d cheat on poor Gawain like that!”, then followed up with an old-fashioned emoticon of a person sticking out their tongue. 

I debated blocking the person who had written the comment, but I felt like that would just be immature. Maybe it wouldn’t be, but I couldn’t help but feel like if I couldn’t even accept that level of comment, I’d never survive being able to do videos. At least, not until I made large enough waves at an official Tamer’s Consortium Tournament to get them to start being broadcast that way. In the end, I just ignored the comment and tucked my phone away. When River and Laurel came back down some time later, River pulled out his own augpad. 

“Aiden, you were looking at getting a hovering frame for your augpad, weren’t you? Here, let’s look at some spots online, and then we can check them out.” 

“You boys have fun,” Laurel said, stretching and popping her neck. “I’m going to go ahead and get my registration for a future battle with Councillor Kingfisher. You know a bunch of tamers are going to be in town for the fight with Regent Finley, and anyone who doesn’t have Kingfisher’s seal is going to be jonesing for it.” 

“Jonesing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s a real word,” Laurel said defensively. 

“I don’t doubt its realness. I doubt your age,” I said, then turned to River and placed my palm on the back of his hand, like I was comforting someone. “River, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were dating someone four hundred years old. It must be so difficult to play caretaker to someone of such advanced age.” 

“Oh, come on–” Laurel protested, but River cut me off by putting his hand over his heart. 

“It is difficult, truly difficult, I shant lie. And forsooth! I do despair, for in the truth of mine heart of hearts my knowest that I doth profess to fear of her death!” 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Laurel groaned. “It’s a complete butchery of early modern unmingled English.”

“Experience, though noon auctoritee,” I responded, using the lines to an ancient story written in an even older dialect of unmingled. I’d had to read a copy of it when I was in school, and for some reason, the reading of ‘no written authority’ as ‘noon auctoritee’ had made me laugh enough at thirteen or so that the line had stuck with me even years later.

“Hwæt. We Gardena in geardagum,” River responded. I blinked rapidly at that one as Laurel stared at him blankly. He sighed and waved his hand. “It’s from an epic poem in old unmingled. It was funny.” 

“Of course it was, dear,” Laurel said, putting her hand on his shoulder. He groaned and raised a hand, royal blue light spilling out and working itself into a shape, before he vanished, reappearing about ten feet away from us. 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” River said, dusting his hands off as if he’d somehow gotten them dirty via casting a spell. “How about we go back to teasing Aiden about his crush on Gawain?” 

“I do not have a crush on Gawain!” I responded, bolting to my feet. “He’s a prick who doesn’t respect my personal space and takes my stuff without asking.” 

“That was quite a quick refusal,” Laurel said, a predatory grin spreading across her face as she walked over to River. He had adopted an equally malicious smile. 

“Almost too quick,” River agreed. 

“He’s definitely hiding something,” Laurel said, her eyes narrowing theatrically.

“Definiteley.”

“Stoppp,” I groaned. 

“And even if he wasn’t lying about not having a crush on Gawain,” Laurel continued. “Gawain definitely has a crush on him.” 

“Why else would he stick around for so long?” River nodded. “Just to get a fight and make a video out of it? No. I don’t buy it.” 

“Maybe he’s just an optics-obsessed loser,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets and glaring at them, actually starting to get fed up by their antics. 

“Loser?” Laurel asked. “Now that’s a classic insult, and one that can be thrown out affectionately.” 

“And even if he is obsessed with optics, does that explain Gawain inviting him to a concert?” River asked. “Methinks no.” 

“That’s enough,” I snapped, and I felt my lack of emotional control cause my essence to spike for a moment. Scales, who had been at my feet, rippled for an instant as his pneuma gathered and he prepared to take on his battle form. Seeing they’d gone too far, a sheepish look came over River’s face, while Laurel just turned and looked away. 

“Sorry,” she said, and even though she didn’t meet my gaze as she said it, I didn’t think that it was a false apology, just the best she could do in that instant. River, on the other hand, walked forward and pulled me into a side hug as he apologized. 

“Didn’t mean to push you so hard,” he said. “Sorry about that.” 

“It’s… fine,” I said, letting out a slow breath. “How about we figure out something to do today?” 

They agreed, and in the end, we decided to visit a museum of art. We spent a long time wandering through the winding three-story structure, looking at the replications of assorted historical art pieces from modern-era, post-arrival, pre-arrival, and even older things, like renaissance paintings that had survived the looting of the Obsidian Kings and following rebellions. There were even a handful of attempted reconstructions of lost pieces of art, often coming from nothing more than half-burned five hundred year old plastic prints that hadn’t held up well.

I did feel like a bit of a third wheel at times, with River and Laurel often chatting just between the two of them, so in an attempt to give them some privacy, I walked off to new sections of the museum alone a few times. I wasn’t sure if it actually helped, but I figured that it was the thought that counted. 

After the museum, I headed out on my own, eventually finding a restaurant that sounded good. Half the dishes on the menu seemed to use ramps, which wasn’t something I’d ever eaten before, but it was a cousin of wild onions that was especially common to this neck of the woods. It tasted pretty good when mixed with the chicken and roasted slowly over a smoky fire, then slathered in a mixture of mustard, honey, more ramps, apple cider vinegar, and a few other ingredients. It was a very different sort of food from the fish dishes that I’d grown up eating, but I found it enjoyable nevertheless, and the fact that there were a few nearby villages that did a lot of chicken farming meant that the price of the meat was also nice for my wallet. 

Eventually, I returned to the hostel and to the currently empty room to find Hex still dozing on the bed. I supposed that she did bear a resemblance to a cat or small fox, but I was still impressed with her ability to doze off. I shifted her to one side of the bed in order to climb in, which got me a small yowl of protestation. 

That night, when I slept, I had strange dreams. In one of them, Gawain was a singer and guitarist in a band, while I had been dragged to the concert by Rane. I didn’t even like the music, but I found myself drawn backstage anyway. A different dream had me leading some sort of strange religion that planned on replacing all biological organisms with beings purely of essence, while Gawain led a rebellion right into my lair, only for me to trap him and keep him in a giant birdcage next to my throne. In another, I had become the Maxima, which was the strongest tamer on the planet – not a position that actually existed, or even could exist, but dream logic was dream logic. Gawain was in that dream too, wearing all black, with black eyeliner and purple eyeshadow. He eventually overthrew me to become the Maxima Oblivion King, which my dream thought was a worse version of an Obsidian King, and ushered in a thousand years of darkness.