Mountains Vast and a Kingdom So Red

Chapter 84

A diversion works since a fairie claps at them during a walk outside the palace. Bedivere waves to them, waiting on them to wave back to ensure friendliness and not ill will. They wave back so he asks Xirna to begin her descent. She prances on the dewey, groomed grass and introduces herself to the fairie. However, the fairie fails to give her a passing glance, focusing on Bedivere instead. They demand if he is the figure on the paper.

"What do you mean?" Bedivere asks.

Their welcomer laughs and pulls a twisted newspaper from their pocket. "Freshly sold out. You, fellow, are famous."

Something unfamiliar blooms in his chest. "May I see that?"

They give it to him and his eyes eat up every word.

Trilling birds cough up bones same as every other songless bird, and this male of average build coughs up a legendary tale that kept me planted in my seat. He is name has been echoed a hundred times–Bedivere Simmons–and the gossip mongers who approached me informed me why; he is an amazing singer and the gift has been with him since his birth. His mother and brother do not know how to carry a note, but he is a stark contrast and an inspiration to the fairies he left behind in Nirminda. When I asked him to sing a diddy, he claimed he had a fit of laryngitis, so I took to trusting a resilient source who weathered a plague–I am speaking of Boardsboa, my statehood, and it is about time someone sent it in a tailspin. Too soon? B. Simmons has not yet been invited to the capitol, but I feel destiny is harkening for it, a performance of a lifetime, a goat's lifetime. True to logic, this male is coupled with a fair lady who has stuck by his side for seven years. Xirna's breathtaking beauty originates from the marshlands and her intelligence came through in the description of her lover. She applauds his fundraiser attitude and "warrior spirit". I gathered he is a hard worker though his accent is far from provincial. Although it is vouched throughout the realm he is an incredible singer, it is not clear to me why he is a wingless male. I was on the tip of my seat, waiting for the backstory, but he did not oblige me. Maybe in the next feature he will tell me, for there are many reasons fairie snip their wings.

–Miser Stewart

The prose is bad but not as bad as it could be. She did not call him desperate, just a fundraiser. Perhaps it is the best she upped the ante to laryngitis as opposed to voice rest. And the sketch of him coalesced with the text is proper. Xirna takes the paper from Bedivere and reads it. She laughs gleefully.

"Intelligent and beautiful. Such a sparky debut."

"My performance is one of a goat's lifetime," he says, adding a gasp. He thanks the fairie and hands the paper back to them.

"My name is Atlictent. Atlice for short. Will you be touring here?" They ask.

"Yes, as long as I am chosen. We are chosen," Bedivere says.

"Right. The rules. Come with me, I can set you up in my room." Bedivere bows to the fairie and they almost walk through the palace doors. A guard blocks them, rigid in posture and gripping a spear.

"Evening Atlictenet," he says. "Who is this company?"

Atlictenet gives the guard a synopsis. The guard is not moved.

"They need authorization, screening, a security patdown before entry is allowed."

Xirna bats her lashes at him. "You may check my bags officer."

"It is not my post. I am the door guard."

Bedivere clears his throat. "Is security around?"

"No."

Atlictenet laughs. "Will you ask for Melusine? I am her chosen." The guard nods and departs inside.

"Melusine loves you two. She will clear it up and offer you lodging."

"Excellent. Thank you Atlice," Xirna says. She sneaks a pleased look to Bedivere.

Moments pass, their only audience mosquitos. Xirna opens her luggage and when Bedivere asks what she is doing she says she needs a sweater. As she is clawing through the items, her necklace slips out, camouflaging in the grass. Xirna curses and lowers her body. Atlice wonders about the scene in Nirminda when Melusine burst through the doors, the guard at her heels.

"My word! Are you about to get a good pounding?" Melusine poses to Xirna who then looks like she wishes to die.

"No, no, my, um, Queen. I am picking up my necklace."

"I know, the titles are a mouthful. Pantheon member," she mocks. "But you may call me Melusine. Do you have any pointy objects in there?" She gestures to the duffle.

"No, um, Melusine."

"Grand. How about you g minor?"

"Pardon?" Bedivere asks.

"You are the featured singer. Do you want to sleep inside or out here?"

"Inside."

"Do you have weapons?" Her eyes are exquisitely deadly. Her wings are large and glittery on the edges.

"No. I am pacifist," he says. He is not.

"Sir guard, keep watch. Atlice, I trust you to show them to your room. Mummy is tired."

She laughs. "Would not be the first time a gang bang happened at the palace."

Bedivere scrunches his face. Group sex is the popular term, the other is a colloquialism in the Human land.

On the fourth floor, Atlice directs them to his room. The corridor carries a cold draft and the walls display painting after painting. A little dog licks herself on a plush dog bed, but when she sees the guests, she growls. The room lacks a second bed, and Atlice makes a pun about it before frowning, but Bedivere assures them the cots will work fine. First he checks in with Xirna, she is holding up fine, before he goes to the washroom to shower. As the water sprays, he realizes he forgets to grab his exfoliating scrub from his luggage but decides the water will suffice, and the warmth rolling into his muscles removes the exertion of the day. Soon, Xirna strolls in, the washroom is open concept, and begins brushing her teeth. A nice silence follows and after meditating, he is able to fall asleep in the new place.