"So this goes in there?"
"Yes. Hold still."
"I am. I think it's a wee bit too small for me now."
"No, these are robes, John. They're meant to drape, not burst at the seams. Plenty of room even if you somehow grow another foot."
"Hey! Why'd you pinch me?"
"You were about to rip the cloth. Do you want me to start over?"
"..."
"..."
"All done?"
"All done." Sophronia gave the fabric a few finishing pats, stepping back with a satisfied nod. Dressing me in the old robes had been more like wrestling an irritated bear into a tablecloth.
By the time I returned to the cabin, the sun was dipping below the horizon. Just enough time to wash, look somewhat presentable, and wear the robes Sophronia had revived. I'd only ever worn them maybe ten times, and back then, I'd been smaller—by a lot. Putting them on now had been an ordeal.
I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever stop growing. Back on Earth, being this tall would've been a nightmare. Doorframes, beds, buses—nothing built for people over six foot three. But this was Tiranaval, where plenty of folks were built like small giants. Not to mention the actual giants.
"You look great," Sophronia said, giving me an appraising look.
"Thanks," I replied, glancing down at myself. Her spells had done wonders. The robes looked crisp, even regal—if you ignored the faint smell of burnt lavender and ozone that still lingered.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
Sharp. Classy. Definitely worthy of meeting a king.
"Well, I'm off."
"See you later?" Sophronia asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes.
I really should nip this in the bud. I should, right? Then again, who am I to assume the feelings of others? Probably just being friendly. Probably.
"Of course. I'll need your big brain later anyway. See you at the lab—hopefully Julius has made progress." I smiled as I headed for the door. "Ciao!"
Outside, a carriage was already waiting. A well-dressed man stood at attention beside it, two immaculate horses pawing the cobblestones.
"A fine evening, sir," the man said with a bow. "I am Gerard, here to escort you to the Azure Hearth." His gloved hand rested over the royal insignia on his chest.
"I guess the king knows where I'm staying, huh?"
"Indeed, sir. It is not exactly a secret."
"That's true. I'm not exactly the secret-base type." I chuckled. "Thanks for the offer, but I can run there. Be faster—and save you the trouble."
He inclined his head politely. "If I may, sir… such exertion would hardly be conducive to the health of your splendid robes. We also have ample time."
I grinned. "Fair point, Gerard. Alright then—take me to His Highness."
He opened the door with a practiced gesture. The carriage's interior was wide and comfortable—clearly adjusted for my size.
"Please help yourself to refreshments, sir," Gerard said. "We'll arrive at the Azure Hearth in thirty chimes. Do knock if you require anything."
He bowed again and shut the door. The horses whinnied, and the carriage rolled into motion.
Huh. Would you look at that—drinks. Iced chocolate milk. My favorite.
Aww, the king remembered. How thoughtful.
The ride was bumpy and, honestly, a bit dull. I'm too used to running everywhere. I could tell there were impact dampeners built into the carriage, but my presence must've canceled the enchantments out. They really need to invent suspension—or rubber wheels. Would make life a lot easier.
After thirty minutes and three bottles of chocolate milk, we stopped. Gerard opened the door with his usual grace.
"We have arrived, sir. Thank you for your patience."
"Thanks, Gerard. Loved the chocolate milk. Say—are you one of the king's direct butlers?"
He straightened with pride. "Indeed, sir. I am one of His Majesty's personal attendants."
"Great. So you're... Gerard Butler?"
He blinked, confused. "Yes?"
I laughed the entire way to the Azure Hearth.
The Azure Hearth was exactly what you'd expect — the best restaurant in the fanciest part of town. Music, dancers, attendants who anticipated your needs before you spoke. Even the air smelled rich. Not a speck of dust or flaw anywhere. To be fair, His Majesty was dining here tonight — they'd probably doubled their efforts.
I was about to ask one of the receptionists for help when she spoke first.
"Sir Delinger. Please, follow me to your table."
The woman, displaying a professional amount of cleavage, led me upstairs. They knew exactly what they were doing. Some things, it seems, never change — even in a different world.
The top floor was reserved entirely for the king and me. Guards stood at every corner, faces hidden beneath their helms. A waiter pulled my seat out. Just as I settled in, the doors opened.
King Albrecht entered — tall, robed, and flanked by two attendants in matching colors. Damn, that looked cool. I stood to greet him.
"Your Highness. Thank you for invi—"
He hugged me.
A long hug. With back pats. No words. I glanced at the attendants. They looked apologetic.
After at least a minute of hugging, with me patting his back too, the taller of his attendants came to my rescue.
"Your Highness, you must be hungry. We've prepared roasted fowl and bacon — your favorite."
That snapped the king back. He released me, then looked me over.
"You are John Delinger."
"I am John Delinger."
He nodded gravely. "Can you lift an elephant?"
"The elephant won't be too happy."
He rubbed his bearded chin as though I'd just uttered divine wisdom.
"Scribe!"
A man in a tall hat ran forward, scroll and quill in hand.
"Your Highness."
"Write this down: If you lift an elephant, it won't be too happy."
"Wise words, Your Highness."
"Good. You may leave."
The king sat — right next to me, not across. Without a word, he began eating. His attendants followed suit. I hesitated, then joined in.
The food was amazing — juicy roasted fowl, perfectly crisp bacon. Though I wished there were veggies here somewhere to balance the oil out. But no. It's just bird and bacon. Heaps of it.
The king, for all his eccentricity, ate with perfect manners. Not a drop of food went into his long robes.
This went on for an hour. The food kept coming in. Same thing always. Roasted Fowl and Bacon. I kept eating. The king continued eating as well. His attendants paced themselves, leaving most of the food to me and the king. Finally, the king wiped his mouth and turned to me.
"Who were the dragons?"
The question nearly caught me off guard. Good thing it's one of the questions I expected. "Benjamin and his friends."
"Are they related to Archwyrm Velryn?"
"Not that I know of."
"Could you lift a dragon?"
"Yes. And I have. They also weren't too happy."
"What about royalty? Are they kin to the Wyrmking?"
"I never asked."
"Rebels of Drachenland?"
"No."
He hummed thoughtfully.
"Scribe!"
The same man appeared again.
"Your Highness."
"Write this down: If you lift a dragon, they also won't be too happy."
"Fascinating conclusion, Your Highness."
"You may go."
Then the king looked back at me.
"Will they return here?"
"Most likely."
"Then send warning to the council."
"Yes, Your Highness."
He paused again.
"You knew my father."
"I did. A good man."
"I wouldn't call him good," he said flatly. "You saw me as a child. What did you think of me?"
"What a question," I muttered. "You were pale."
"I'm still pale, aren't I?"
"A bit, yes."
He leaned closer. "Is there anything important I should know?"
I hesitated. Should I tell him about the apocalypse? The man ruled half a continent — this choice mattered.
Finally, I said, "I've heard whispers of the plague. It'll strike the wheat. Starvation will follow."
He didn't blink. "Dorian," he said to one attendant, "look into the plague."
Then, without another word, he rose. It ended as abruptly as it started. His robes flowed behind him as he left — guards, attendants, everyone following in perfect step.
I was left alone at the table.
I looked at the waiter. "Can I get a salad?"
He nodded.
I spent some time wandering Alimony after dinner. Talked to a few people. Had a few drinks. The night was still young, and I wasn't ready to head back yet.
So I decided to visit Councilman Zezen. I'd promised to meet him as soon as I could, and he lived nearby in the fancy district anyway.
His house stood out among the marble and gilded facades—a sturdy thing of dark wood and straight lines. Quaint, almost modest by comparison.
I knocked. After a moment, the door cracked open and Zezen's sharp eyes peered through.
He looked as neatly dressed as ever. You'd think a man at home would loosen his collar or something, but no—still in formal wear, as if waiting for a council session to start.
"Hey there, Councilman. Good evening, isn't it?"
He narrowed his eyes, voice rough as gravel. "And here I thought you'd never come."
"Sorry. Recuperating took longer than I expected."
He stared at me for an uncomfortably long time before opening the door wider. "Alright. Come in."
Inside was warm and dim. A fire burned low in the hearth, chasing away the creeping chill of the oncoming winter. The air smelled faintly of ash, tea, and old parchment. Comfortable, in a way that told you someone actually lived here.
Zezen motioned to a sofa. "Sit. I'll get us drinks."
"I didn't expect you to still be awake," I said as I took a seat. "It's late."
"I didn't expect you to show up on a Dawnsday. I've got work in the morning." He poured tea into two cups and sat across from me.
"It just felt right," I said, shrugging. "I didn't have much else to do. Dinner ended too abruptly."
"Dinner with the king," he said, retrieving a pipe from his drawer. "I heard. Mind if I?"
"Not at all. I've inhaled worse."
He chuckled and lit the pipe. Bitter smoke filled the air.
"You sure you want to be smoking that stuff?" I asked. "Can't be good for you. You'll die early."
He grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "I don't see a downside to what you just said."
"Hey, don't say that. I still need you around so I can annoy you."
"Bahaha! I like being annoyed. Gives me something to do."
I smiled despite myself. "So what did you want to talk about, Councilman?"
He took a slow puff. "How's the new king?"
That wasn't the question I was expecting. "Young," I said finally. "A bit weird."
"Weird how?"
"He hugged me before saying a word."
He nodded, unsurprised. "I've heard similar stories. Eccentric, that one. Still, I've yet to hear a single voice of dissent. Be careful with him, John. You knew his father. Not him."
"I know. Royalty's always volatile. Is that what this is about? The king?"
"Just small talk. Why? Got somewhere better to be?"
I couldn't help but sigh. "Well you know how it is. I really appreciate the city letting me stay, but I don't want to cause a blackout longer than necessary."
"Who cares what other people think?"
"I do."
He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, studying me. "In that case, let's get to business. What have you been up to these past few months?"
"Learning magic," I said simply.
That made him pause mid-puff. "You've found a way around your curse?"
I shook my head, not really agreeing with it fully. "Not exactly a curse. More like a double edged sword, but I know what you mean. And the answer to your question is yes. We took inspiration from the old Runic Warriors."
He took more huffs from his pipe. "Runic Warriors…" He leaned back, frowning. "That's an old path. Unconventional. Some would say heretical. From a time before proper wizardry."
"Or they just got eaten by dragons," I said with a grin.
He squinted through the smoke. "What did the king say about the dragons?"
"Not much. Asked if they were related to nobility or the Drachenland rebels. I told him I didn't know. Why so interested in him anyway?"
"It's the king, John. Everyone's interested."
"Fair point."
He tapped his pipe against the hearth. "One more thing. The creatures you've been bringing in lately—it's been frequent. Before, it was just rare materials, sometimes a limb or two. Now you're hauling in entire carcasses. What changed?"
"I need them for the Runic Warrior experiments," I said. "Didn't you know it needs full bodies to work?"
"No," he said flatly. "From what we know, Runic Warriors ate most of the bodies they hunted. A feast for their tribes. Only a small part was turned into runes. Might be worth looking into."
"Noted. I'll check it out." I hesitated, then added, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about space-warping creatures, would you?"
He tapped his chin thoughtfully with his pipe. "Actually… I think I might."
He stood, rummaged through a pile of scrolls, and after some thuds and curses, produced a small leather-bound book. "Here. Take this."
I looked at the cover.
A Compendium of Tiranaval's Most Fantastic Creatures, by Edgar F.
The leather was cracked but well-kept. I opened it—then blinked. It wasn't a book. It was a journal. Everything inside was handwritten: notes, sketches, detailed entries on magical creatures—some I'd never even heard of. Diets, habits, habitats, even breeding cycles. Some weren't native to Wyldbloom—this continent at all.
"This is incredible," I said, almost shouting. "Why have I never heard of this? We've been looking for something like this for months!"
"It's from a personal collection," he said simply. "Thought it might help."
"Can I make a copy?"
He waved a hand. "No need. Keep it. I've already finished reading it. Just promise me something."
"What's that?"
"The journal's incomplete. Only half-filled. Since you're running around finding these creatures anyway… finish it."
I immediately agreed. "Well, I'll have to brush up on my drawing, but sure."
"Good. Now off you go. Some of us have work in the morning."
I stood, still flipping through the pages. "Thanks again, Councilman. Let me know if you need anything."
He walked me to the door. "Just keep the disturbances down, will you? And tell that kid Julius to stop dissecting carcasses in the street."
"I'll do my best!" I called over my shoulder, stepping out into the chill night air.
Surprisingly pleasant talk, all things considered.
The smell of smoke clung to my clothes as I left, but it didn't bother me. The house could use some airing out though. The smell of smoke was piling in.
John left my house with a smile. Good kid. Hope he finds his way home soon.
I bent down to pick up the books that had fallen earlier. My knees cracked. Wonderful. Getting old.
When will I die? It's been too long. Hopefully sooner rather than later.
For now, I suppose I should let the trapped cat out.
I knocked three times on the guest room door, then opened it. My guest was lying across the bed, arms spread, staring at the ceiling.
"Your Highness. He's gone," I said.
Albrecht didn't move. Didn't even blink. He just kept staring up, as if the plaster held answers only he could see.
I took the chair in the corner and packed my pipe again. Hm. These leaves are dull. I need something stronger—something that'll kill me faster.
Minutes passed before he finally spoke.
"Did he take the journal?"
"Yes, he did."
"Good."
I studied him quietly. His golden eyes focused on… something. He was looking at something I couldn't see, I'm sure. "If I may ask, Your Highness… why the song and dance? Why not give him the journal yourself?"
He turned his gaze slightly, though not to me. Still staring at something I couldn't see.
"Some things need to take the long road, Zezen. I'm sure you understand."
I sighed through my pipe. The smoke curled in lazy rings. "I do. Though the long road tends to lose travelers along the way."
He didn't answer. Just kept looking at that empty corner of the room. He continued staring at something I couldn't see.