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Deviation Actions
Literature Text
It was a slow night. Roy stood alone at the counter, polishing a glass with a cloth. Shinonome was out assisting Loa with a hunt – from what Loa had told her it didn’t seem to be a very dangerous demon, but he wanted the demon-hunter to tag along just in case anything spiralled out of control. Knowing Loa and his propensity for disaster, Roy suspected something just might. In addition to that, the night being a weeknight meant not a lot of people had the time or energy to spend hanging out at the bar, and so Regius Noctis was effectively empty.
As she contemplated closing early for the night, the door creaked open and a customer entered. Roy was pleased to see a familiar face – a regular patron of the bar, Hase was one of the friendlier visitors. He often came to drown his sorrows in a pint of beer but no matter how drunk he got, he would never cause trouble in the establishment. He was also very companionable; he’d get less and less so the more he got drunk, but most times he was perfectly happy to chat with Roy or any other patron about his or their day. This caused Roy to become very fond of him, and she would often give him an extra pint for free if he looked like he needed it.
Hase approached the counter, looking tired like he always did, but as he got nearer Roy began to realise that something was amiss. There was a different energy about him; something different about the way he carried himself. The slight limp in his gait was gone. Was it just her imagination, or was there a strange glint in his black eyes? And weren’t those eyes a steel grey before? Something was decidedly wrong here.
He slid onto a barstool and spoke, “A tankard of ale, barkeep.” It was Hase’s voice, but at the same time it wasn’t. There was something ancient about it. Roy narrowed her eyes, suspicious, but took out a tankard from under the counter and filled it with ale. She gave it to him, who took a long draught and then sighed in relief.
“My thanks, barkeep. You have no idea how long it has been since I last had a drink,” he smiled at her.
“That’s a surprise, since you were here last night,” Roy answered dryly.
“Was I, now?” He pretended to be shocked. “Why, my memory must be playing tricks on me!”
She was silent for a while before smiling and shaking her head. “No, I was wrong,” she said. “The one here last night was Hase, not you.” Roy looked him in the eyes and held his gaze. “You are not Hase.”
The man who looked every bit like Hase was still for a moment, before erupting into raucous laughter. “Amazing!” he marvelled. “Worthy of the title of spirit king, you are! And I tried so hard to act like him, too.”
Roy’s smile hardened. “You didn’t try very hard then.” She tapped the empty tankard. “Hase never ordered ale. It’s always beer for him, and he’s not the kind of guy who’d down the entire thing in one go.”
“Is that so? Quite observant, you are.”
She shrugged. “I’m the bartender; it’s my job to know my customers.” She then pointed to herself. “Also Hase, like everyone else, calls me by my name. You called me barkeep.”
The man clapped a hand to his forehead dramatically. “Ah yes,” he groaned. “I have forgotten what century this is.” He peered at Roy from underneath his hand and added, “I tried to adapt, I really did, but it is hard to call a servant anything else but, you see.”
“And what century were you from?”
He pretended to think about it. “I remember little about my origins. My being predates the time of your war, that much I am sure. I do know it was a very long time ago; far longer than your entire existence, perhaps!” He smiled slyly. She didn’t return the smile.
“Enough chatter. Who are you really?” Roy asked, her face serious. “You knew I’m a spirit king. You’re not from this world, and you pretended to be a person I know and associate with on a near daily basis. Your words suggest that you’re possibly older than time itself. Let me ask you this, then – who are you and where is the real Hase?”
The man responded without preamble, “I am the black god.”
Roy stared.
“Of course, I am clearly not this man whom you speak of. If you are asking about him,” he pointed to himself, “then he is asleep at the moment. I am merely using his body for the time being – a vessel, as a matter of fact.” Seeing Roy reach under the counter, he added quickly, “And he is perfectly safe right now, so there is no need for violence.”
“If you're a god,” Roy said slowly, still not moving away from reaching under the counter, “then why are you in a vessel? And why Hase?”
“Black god, spirit king. At times one just needs to interact with the mortal realm. As for why this particular man, his bloodline and I have history between each other. But enough about me! I made the effort to come here for a reason.” He pointed at her. “I came here to see you.”
Now it was Roy’s turn to be taken aback. “Me?” she said incredulously. “What would you want to meet me for?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Rumours and tales spread far and wide, spirit king, and I became interested in seeing what kind of person you are.”
“But you already know me.” She narrowed her eyes.
“I know your story, not you personally.” He smiled at her. “And it seems this mortal,” he pointed to himself again, “happens to be very fond of you, so I became curious.”
What a strange situation this is, Roy thought to herself. It had been a long time since she last came face to face with a legitimate god. There were plenty of delusional spirits who imagined they had what it took to become a genuine god, but in all her years alive this was probably the sixth time she came across the real deal. And to think there was one residing in one of her most regular customers! It seemed almost unbelievable, but who was she to know? She had no doubt that this was the actual thing and not a mere spiritual possession – there was a real weight behind his words; even as he spoke with Hase’s voice, there was an ancient feel that distorted it, making it sound like his own. It was both Hase’s and not Hase’s. It was the voice of a god. And there were other things that made her believe him: the way he no longer walked with a limp; how his eyes were no longer steel grey but black as night; that disturbing aura that surrounded his being – it all hinted at a very powerful and archaic being, and there was nothing as old and as powerful as a god. Even now with so few people believing in gods their power had dissipated somewhat, but the grand and imposing aura was still there. It wasn’t very often that she got to feel it, but once you’ve felt it you’ll remember how it feels forever.
This was a god all right.
And this was going to be a problem. Gods were troublesome. Extremely so. None of her previous encounters with gods had went smoothly; one had even ended in a small war. She fervently hoped it wouldn’t be the case with this one. At a loss for words, Roy silently refilled his tankard with ale.
The god nodded appreciatively. “Very thoughtful. I can see why the mortal holds you in such high esteem now.”
“Thanks for the compliment, you’re very kind,” she responded automatically, still thinking hard about what to do next.
Several minutes passed in silence. The god spun the tankard in his hands, while Roy contemplated the sticky situation she was in at the moment. It took a while for her to realise that while he was spinning the tankard at a fairly high speed, the ale inside the tankard didn’t spill over. In fact, it was motionless. It was as if it was suspended in midair, frozen and unmoving. He caught her looking and grinned. It was a neat trick, she had to admit.
Suddenly, he stopped spinning the tankard and set it down upon the counter. “This is turning out to be a rather uneventful and quiet night,” he sighed. With a playful twinkle in his eyes, he asked, “Would you like to hear a story, spirit king?”
Why the hell not? she thought. No harm in playing along.
“I'd be delighted to, black god.”
He smiled widely, and so the black god began his tale.
“There was once a very rich man whose wealth was so immense, he could buy all the countries in the world twice over and still have money left for a grand dinner! He dined with nothing but the finest gold cutleries and the clearest crystal goblets, and nothing but the freshest produce prepared by the most talented chef on his flawless bone china plates. His wines were the most vintage, his spices the most exotic, and his women even more so. He was never married, for no self-respecting nobleman would even consider committing himself to a single woman and he considered himself to be a very fine nobleman indeed – if the bastard child of a sailor and a gypsy conceived during moments of drunken lust could ever be called a nobleman, that is.”
“Black god...”
“Hush and let me tell the story, spirit king. Now, as all rich men were, this man was an avid collector of all things precious and beautiful. He had an impressive library filled with classical works bound in the softest leather embossed with ornate gold and silver filigree and precious stones. The library itself was a stunning creation with masterly crafted wooden shelves lacquered so they looked timeless, and a chandelier that glittered with a thousand tears. An envy of scholars all around the world, it truly was.”
“Did he ever read all those books?”
“Come now, spirit king, act befitting your age,” he chided her. “Do you really think a man of those times could read?”
She thought back to the days when she was still mortal, and remembered how Beauchene would often roar in anger and displeasure whenever presented with an open book – a trick that Favager, one of the few literate among the knights, loved to pull. “...fair point,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Now, if you would let me continue.” Hase – or rather, the god residing within him – cleared his throat theatrically. “In addition to that wonderful library, the man collected plenty of other equally wondrous things. He had an armoury filled with weapons wielded by warriors from legendary battles; a garden of the prettiest blooms from around the globe; a gallery dedicated for paintings and sculptures by the most famous artists of that time. The man was a bona fide collector. That was what he did best, aside from accumulating his vast wealth in a variety of shady and distasteful manners.
“Of all his collections, however, none was more important to him than the starlight bird.”
Roy raised an eyebrow. “Starlight bird?” she asked, sceptically. “Now you’re pulling my leg, black god.”
Hase smiled and immediately the temperature within the bar dropped. The darkness outside the windows seemed to thicken. “I am a god. I have no need to pull your leg, spirit king. Remember your place.”
Roy said nothing, unnerved by the sudden change in the god’s demeanour. It had been several decades since she’d last dealt with a god, and she’d forgotten how terribly capricious gods were. This one in front of her was no different. She kept her head down and avoided the god’s stony-eyed gaze, and several tense seconds passed before the god deigned to pick up the story again.
“The starlight bird was a remarkable bird. Its plumage was like the shifting colours of a clear river made sparkling by sunlight. One could not tell exactly what its colour was – one time it may be a stunning emerald green, another time it could be the blue of a cloudless sky, another time still it may be a mixture of both, or anything in between. It was not a very large bird; its wingspan was only about as long as this mortal’s forearm.” He stretched his left arm in a demonstration. “Its eyes were as equally sharp as its talon. Its wings were as dazzling as its plumage. It was a dark, dark blue – the colour of the dark night sky, but the feathers shone and glittered as if there really were stars all over its wings. That was where the name starlight bird came from – it was as if the bird itself was a physical manifestation of the heavenly night sky above.
“As I have told you before, this bird was the man’s most prized possession. It was the jewel in his crown, metaphorically speaking. However, a magnificent jewel deserves an equally magnificent crown for it to be embedded in, and the bird was no different. The man decided that he would have a birdcage crafted especially for the bird; a birdcage that would match the wondrous beauty of nature that was the starlight bird.”
Hase smiled again, but this time it was a mischievous one. He put his elbows on the bar top, his hands under his chin, and leaned forward. “What do you think happened next, spirit king?” he asked, grinning.
Glad that the god was no longer in a bad mood, Roy tried to play along. “He got the cage he wanted?” she offered tentatively.
“Right!” The god laughed. “Oh yes, he got the cage he wanted indeed! And it was a better cage than he could ever have imagined. To match the stars on the bird’s feathers, it was made with sparkling platinum. The outside bars and base of the cage were carved and engraved with the most delicate designs, and it was inlaid with multicoloured precious stones that would mimic the shifting colours of the bird’s plumage. The cage’s interior was made of black onyx, so that the brilliance of the bird would be more pronounced. It was as hardy as a shield and as light as a feather, and the craftsman who had made it pronounced it his finest creation yet. Mind you, this was the man who settled for nothing less than the absolute best, and the craftsman he chose to make the birdcage was no exception.”
Hase was still grinning at this point.
“He was absolutely delighted with the birdcage. He loved it. Together with the starlight bird, they became the ultimate centrepiece of his collection. He showed them off to everyone who cared to listen. ‘See how stunning my bird is,’ he cried, ‘and see how much more stunning this birdcage is! Is it not the most astounding thing you have ever seen?’ Most tended to agree – for the starlight bird was a stunning bird indeed and the birdcage even more so – but one young lady from a neighbouring estate worried for the bird, and said to the man:
“’Do you not pity the bird, keeping it in the cage so?’
“Hearing this, the man laughed and said, ‘Why would it be pitiful, being in a cage as wonderful as this? It should be glad to be kept in such a wonderful home!’
“Soon, however, his admiration for the birdcage outgrew his love for the starlight bird. He began to become obsessed with it. He worried for the cage constantly; would the platinum and onyx lose their shine? Would the precious stones become dull over time? Would the engravings on the cage bars be whittled away and be reduced to nothing? He fretted over the cage more than over anything else, even the starlight bird. Oh, he made sure his library was dusted regularly and the weapons in his armoury kept in pristine condition, but that was a different thing altogether. He had his servants do that. The cage was something he would never let anyone else touch. Only he, and he alone could hold the cage. He alone could marvel at its brilliance up close, feel the engravings with his fingertips. He polished the cage every single day; once after breakfast and once after dinner, taking care not to rub too hard lest he wore the engravings out. He fed the starlight bird as well as he possibly could, but his focus was more on the cage.
“He was so focused on it, he never realised how the precious books in his library disappeared one by one, or how the numbers of weapons in his armoury started dwindling. The flowers in his garden that he had worked so hard to cultivate began to wilt and die, untended by any gardener. The gold cutleries and crystal goblets vanished too, and the food on his plates was no longer made from the freshest produce. But he cared little for them. They were of little importance compared to his precious birdcage. Even when presented with a piece of lettuce and a slice of badly cooked meat on a wooden plate, he cackled maniacally, shovelled the food down his throat, and went back to polishing the birdcage.
“Once his riches had all but disappeared, all his little friends left him to his sorry, depraved fate. His very last visitor was the young lady from the neighbouring estate.
“Now, spirit king, can you guess what that lady said?”
Roy shook her head slowly.
Hase said, almost gleefully, “She said, ‘I may have pitied the bird once before, but now I pity you more.
“’For I can no longer tell which one of you is the one trapped by a cage.’”
At this, the god within Hase burst out laughing, pleased by his tale. Roy laughed as well, although she didn’t really feel like it. She was feeling rather uneasy by the whole thing, to tell the truth, but you don’t keep a stony face when a god’s laughing in front of you. You either laugh along or you risk incurring his wrath, and Roy’s preferred option was never the second one.
He wiped the tears from his eyes, grinned at her like a little child, and she was struck by how young Hase looked. Come to think of it, she never knew how old Hase really was. Considering he mostly came to the bar to drown his sorrows in beer, there was never an appropriate time to ask. She figured he was about thirty or somewhere close, but maybe it was the beer or the reason why he was drinking that added the years to his looks, whatever that reason was. The Hase that was smiling at her right now looked close to twenty.
He motioned at her for another drink, jolting her out of her thoughts. “At any rate, spirit king, what did you think about the story?” he asked, as she refilled the tankard in front of him. Hase’s face was serious, but there was a hint of laughter in his eyes.
“What did I think?” Roy struggled to keep her thoughts together. “It was pretty funny, I suppose. And a little bit ironic that he himself became a slave to that birdcage which was supposed to enslave the bird.”
The god smirked. “Exactly. Does it not sound like a familiar situation to you?”
Something in his voice made her look at him sharply. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly, more than a little unnerved this time. What was he planning?
“I am not planning anything. Rather, spirit king, I told you that story for a reason. Do you truly not see the resemblance between you and that man?”
Roy shook her head uncertainly. “Enlighten me, black god.”
He held up one hand and said, “Here we have the pretend nobleman, bastard son of a sailor and a gypsy. He accumulated a lot of riches and acquired a treasure in the form of the starlight bird. In his attempt to enslave the bird, however, he became a slave to the birdcage himself.”
He held up his other hand. “Here we have the spirit king, a true noblewoman and knight. She took up arms and travelled the land in order to fight for the name of her king. As she became king herself, she sought to protect her kingdom in battle.
“And consequently became a slave to war instead.”
Roy flinched. Seeing this, Hase laughed even more.
“Do you see it now, spirit king? You are just like the man of the birdcage. You are the lady of war, but all you will ever attain are defeats.” His voice took on a harder edge. “You will try to protect those which you hold dear, but you will lose them all in the end. You will try to become a beacon of hope, but you will be dragged down by the deaths of your comrades. You are a lost cause, spirit king. And one day, you will die a worthless death in battle just like the man of the birdcage died in disgrace with his precious birdcage clutched in his arms.”
She slammed her hand on the table, hard. Glasses shattered. The light fixture above them went out in a tiny explosion. Windows cracked. Outside, the darkness thickened even more, but this time with the howls of lost spectres and wretched wraiths. Roy raised her head and looked at the god with rage in her eyes.
“What of you, black god?” she growled. “You, who are no longer believed in and has lost so much of his power – what of you? You can’t even summon your own corporeal form without having to rely on a vessel, that’s how weak you are.”
He bristled. “Watch your tongue-“
“Silence.” It was not a roar. It was a quiet whisper. But the lights flickered feebly, the windows cracked a little more, the glass pieces on the floor shattered into crystal dust, the wind and wraiths outside howled even louder, and even the black god within Hase was compelled to obey.
“Who do you think you are, black god?” She stared at him, the burning rage in her eyes now a cold wrath. “You are nothing but a weak, lesser deity. Nobody believes in you anymore. There is no faith in you left in this world. You are powerless. A god in name alone.” She jabbed a finger at him.
“A feeble god, trapped in a human vessel? Ha! Now who's the one enslaved here, black god?”
They held each other’s glare for a long time, neither willing to back down. Roy was enraged at this point and only the thought of the god using Hase as a vessel was holding her back from attacking him, god or not. The god himself knew his limitations all too well, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to take on a fully outraged spirit king while still in a human vessel. In the end, Hase threw his hands up in surrender.
“Very well, spirit king,” he said in a mocking tone. “I admit, I am nothing but a weak god trapped in a human vessel. That much is true.” He drained his tankard in one gulp and stood up. He reached in his pockets for his wallet, but Roy stopped him.
She snarled, “No need. I won’t have Hase paying for anything you’re drinking.”
“And here I am, trying to respect your mortal customs,” he said, scathingly.
“Keep to your selfish and godly ways, black god. Your time is nearing its end,” she retorted. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
He scowled. He turned away and began walking towards the door. Roy watched his retreating back in distaste, still feeling a little bit angry. Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, however, Hase turned and looked at her one last time.
“I might be weak and trapped in a vessel, spirit king,” he said, “but at least I have the freedom to choose where and when I want to move. You, on the other hand, cannot even move on from your past and your responsibilities.
“Makes one wonder – which of us is really the one trapped in a cage?”
With those parting words, he opened the door and disappeared into the night.
Standing there amidst broken glass and crystal dust on the floor, Roy stared at the door and ground her teeth in anger.
“This is why I hate dealing with gods,” she muttered to herself venomously.
As she contemplated closing early for the night, the door creaked open and a customer entered. Roy was pleased to see a familiar face – a regular patron of the bar, Hase was one of the friendlier visitors. He often came to drown his sorrows in a pint of beer but no matter how drunk he got, he would never cause trouble in the establishment. He was also very companionable; he’d get less and less so the more he got drunk, but most times he was perfectly happy to chat with Roy or any other patron about his or their day. This caused Roy to become very fond of him, and she would often give him an extra pint for free if he looked like he needed it.
Hase approached the counter, looking tired like he always did, but as he got nearer Roy began to realise that something was amiss. There was a different energy about him; something different about the way he carried himself. The slight limp in his gait was gone. Was it just her imagination, or was there a strange glint in his black eyes? And weren’t those eyes a steel grey before? Something was decidedly wrong here.
He slid onto a barstool and spoke, “A tankard of ale, barkeep.” It was Hase’s voice, but at the same time it wasn’t. There was something ancient about it. Roy narrowed her eyes, suspicious, but took out a tankard from under the counter and filled it with ale. She gave it to him, who took a long draught and then sighed in relief.
“My thanks, barkeep. You have no idea how long it has been since I last had a drink,” he smiled at her.
“That’s a surprise, since you were here last night,” Roy answered dryly.
“Was I, now?” He pretended to be shocked. “Why, my memory must be playing tricks on me!”
She was silent for a while before smiling and shaking her head. “No, I was wrong,” she said. “The one here last night was Hase, not you.” Roy looked him in the eyes and held his gaze. “You are not Hase.”
The man who looked every bit like Hase was still for a moment, before erupting into raucous laughter. “Amazing!” he marvelled. “Worthy of the title of spirit king, you are! And I tried so hard to act like him, too.”
Roy’s smile hardened. “You didn’t try very hard then.” She tapped the empty tankard. “Hase never ordered ale. It’s always beer for him, and he’s not the kind of guy who’d down the entire thing in one go.”
“Is that so? Quite observant, you are.”
She shrugged. “I’m the bartender; it’s my job to know my customers.” She then pointed to herself. “Also Hase, like everyone else, calls me by my name. You called me barkeep.”
The man clapped a hand to his forehead dramatically. “Ah yes,” he groaned. “I have forgotten what century this is.” He peered at Roy from underneath his hand and added, “I tried to adapt, I really did, but it is hard to call a servant anything else but, you see.”
“And what century were you from?”
He pretended to think about it. “I remember little about my origins. My being predates the time of your war, that much I am sure. I do know it was a very long time ago; far longer than your entire existence, perhaps!” He smiled slyly. She didn’t return the smile.
“Enough chatter. Who are you really?” Roy asked, her face serious. “You knew I’m a spirit king. You’re not from this world, and you pretended to be a person I know and associate with on a near daily basis. Your words suggest that you’re possibly older than time itself. Let me ask you this, then – who are you and where is the real Hase?”
The man responded without preamble, “I am the black god.”
Roy stared.
“Of course, I am clearly not this man whom you speak of. If you are asking about him,” he pointed to himself, “then he is asleep at the moment. I am merely using his body for the time being – a vessel, as a matter of fact.” Seeing Roy reach under the counter, he added quickly, “And he is perfectly safe right now, so there is no need for violence.”
“If you're a god,” Roy said slowly, still not moving away from reaching under the counter, “then why are you in a vessel? And why Hase?”
“Black god, spirit king. At times one just needs to interact with the mortal realm. As for why this particular man, his bloodline and I have history between each other. But enough about me! I made the effort to come here for a reason.” He pointed at her. “I came here to see you.”
Now it was Roy’s turn to be taken aback. “Me?” she said incredulously. “What would you want to meet me for?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Rumours and tales spread far and wide, spirit king, and I became interested in seeing what kind of person you are.”
“But you already know me.” She narrowed her eyes.
“I know your story, not you personally.” He smiled at her. “And it seems this mortal,” he pointed to himself again, “happens to be very fond of you, so I became curious.”
What a strange situation this is, Roy thought to herself. It had been a long time since she last came face to face with a legitimate god. There were plenty of delusional spirits who imagined they had what it took to become a genuine god, but in all her years alive this was probably the sixth time she came across the real deal. And to think there was one residing in one of her most regular customers! It seemed almost unbelievable, but who was she to know? She had no doubt that this was the actual thing and not a mere spiritual possession – there was a real weight behind his words; even as he spoke with Hase’s voice, there was an ancient feel that distorted it, making it sound like his own. It was both Hase’s and not Hase’s. It was the voice of a god. And there were other things that made her believe him: the way he no longer walked with a limp; how his eyes were no longer steel grey but black as night; that disturbing aura that surrounded his being – it all hinted at a very powerful and archaic being, and there was nothing as old and as powerful as a god. Even now with so few people believing in gods their power had dissipated somewhat, but the grand and imposing aura was still there. It wasn’t very often that she got to feel it, but once you’ve felt it you’ll remember how it feels forever.
This was a god all right.
And this was going to be a problem. Gods were troublesome. Extremely so. None of her previous encounters with gods had went smoothly; one had even ended in a small war. She fervently hoped it wouldn’t be the case with this one. At a loss for words, Roy silently refilled his tankard with ale.
The god nodded appreciatively. “Very thoughtful. I can see why the mortal holds you in such high esteem now.”
“Thanks for the compliment, you’re very kind,” she responded automatically, still thinking hard about what to do next.
Several minutes passed in silence. The god spun the tankard in his hands, while Roy contemplated the sticky situation she was in at the moment. It took a while for her to realise that while he was spinning the tankard at a fairly high speed, the ale inside the tankard didn’t spill over. In fact, it was motionless. It was as if it was suspended in midair, frozen and unmoving. He caught her looking and grinned. It was a neat trick, she had to admit.
Suddenly, he stopped spinning the tankard and set it down upon the counter. “This is turning out to be a rather uneventful and quiet night,” he sighed. With a playful twinkle in his eyes, he asked, “Would you like to hear a story, spirit king?”
Why the hell not? she thought. No harm in playing along.
“I'd be delighted to, black god.”
He smiled widely, and so the black god began his tale.
“There was once a very rich man whose wealth was so immense, he could buy all the countries in the world twice over and still have money left for a grand dinner! He dined with nothing but the finest gold cutleries and the clearest crystal goblets, and nothing but the freshest produce prepared by the most talented chef on his flawless bone china plates. His wines were the most vintage, his spices the most exotic, and his women even more so. He was never married, for no self-respecting nobleman would even consider committing himself to a single woman and he considered himself to be a very fine nobleman indeed – if the bastard child of a sailor and a gypsy conceived during moments of drunken lust could ever be called a nobleman, that is.”
“Black god...”
“Hush and let me tell the story, spirit king. Now, as all rich men were, this man was an avid collector of all things precious and beautiful. He had an impressive library filled with classical works bound in the softest leather embossed with ornate gold and silver filigree and precious stones. The library itself was a stunning creation with masterly crafted wooden shelves lacquered so they looked timeless, and a chandelier that glittered with a thousand tears. An envy of scholars all around the world, it truly was.”
“Did he ever read all those books?”
“Come now, spirit king, act befitting your age,” he chided her. “Do you really think a man of those times could read?”
She thought back to the days when she was still mortal, and remembered how Beauchene would often roar in anger and displeasure whenever presented with an open book – a trick that Favager, one of the few literate among the knights, loved to pull. “...fair point,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Now, if you would let me continue.” Hase – or rather, the god residing within him – cleared his throat theatrically. “In addition to that wonderful library, the man collected plenty of other equally wondrous things. He had an armoury filled with weapons wielded by warriors from legendary battles; a garden of the prettiest blooms from around the globe; a gallery dedicated for paintings and sculptures by the most famous artists of that time. The man was a bona fide collector. That was what he did best, aside from accumulating his vast wealth in a variety of shady and distasteful manners.
“Of all his collections, however, none was more important to him than the starlight bird.”
Roy raised an eyebrow. “Starlight bird?” she asked, sceptically. “Now you’re pulling my leg, black god.”
Hase smiled and immediately the temperature within the bar dropped. The darkness outside the windows seemed to thicken. “I am a god. I have no need to pull your leg, spirit king. Remember your place.”
Roy said nothing, unnerved by the sudden change in the god’s demeanour. It had been several decades since she’d last dealt with a god, and she’d forgotten how terribly capricious gods were. This one in front of her was no different. She kept her head down and avoided the god’s stony-eyed gaze, and several tense seconds passed before the god deigned to pick up the story again.
“The starlight bird was a remarkable bird. Its plumage was like the shifting colours of a clear river made sparkling by sunlight. One could not tell exactly what its colour was – one time it may be a stunning emerald green, another time it could be the blue of a cloudless sky, another time still it may be a mixture of both, or anything in between. It was not a very large bird; its wingspan was only about as long as this mortal’s forearm.” He stretched his left arm in a demonstration. “Its eyes were as equally sharp as its talon. Its wings were as dazzling as its plumage. It was a dark, dark blue – the colour of the dark night sky, but the feathers shone and glittered as if there really were stars all over its wings. That was where the name starlight bird came from – it was as if the bird itself was a physical manifestation of the heavenly night sky above.
“As I have told you before, this bird was the man’s most prized possession. It was the jewel in his crown, metaphorically speaking. However, a magnificent jewel deserves an equally magnificent crown for it to be embedded in, and the bird was no different. The man decided that he would have a birdcage crafted especially for the bird; a birdcage that would match the wondrous beauty of nature that was the starlight bird.”
Hase smiled again, but this time it was a mischievous one. He put his elbows on the bar top, his hands under his chin, and leaned forward. “What do you think happened next, spirit king?” he asked, grinning.
Glad that the god was no longer in a bad mood, Roy tried to play along. “He got the cage he wanted?” she offered tentatively.
“Right!” The god laughed. “Oh yes, he got the cage he wanted indeed! And it was a better cage than he could ever have imagined. To match the stars on the bird’s feathers, it was made with sparkling platinum. The outside bars and base of the cage were carved and engraved with the most delicate designs, and it was inlaid with multicoloured precious stones that would mimic the shifting colours of the bird’s plumage. The cage’s interior was made of black onyx, so that the brilliance of the bird would be more pronounced. It was as hardy as a shield and as light as a feather, and the craftsman who had made it pronounced it his finest creation yet. Mind you, this was the man who settled for nothing less than the absolute best, and the craftsman he chose to make the birdcage was no exception.”
Hase was still grinning at this point.
“He was absolutely delighted with the birdcage. He loved it. Together with the starlight bird, they became the ultimate centrepiece of his collection. He showed them off to everyone who cared to listen. ‘See how stunning my bird is,’ he cried, ‘and see how much more stunning this birdcage is! Is it not the most astounding thing you have ever seen?’ Most tended to agree – for the starlight bird was a stunning bird indeed and the birdcage even more so – but one young lady from a neighbouring estate worried for the bird, and said to the man:
“’Do you not pity the bird, keeping it in the cage so?’
“Hearing this, the man laughed and said, ‘Why would it be pitiful, being in a cage as wonderful as this? It should be glad to be kept in such a wonderful home!’
“Soon, however, his admiration for the birdcage outgrew his love for the starlight bird. He began to become obsessed with it. He worried for the cage constantly; would the platinum and onyx lose their shine? Would the precious stones become dull over time? Would the engravings on the cage bars be whittled away and be reduced to nothing? He fretted over the cage more than over anything else, even the starlight bird. Oh, he made sure his library was dusted regularly and the weapons in his armoury kept in pristine condition, but that was a different thing altogether. He had his servants do that. The cage was something he would never let anyone else touch. Only he, and he alone could hold the cage. He alone could marvel at its brilliance up close, feel the engravings with his fingertips. He polished the cage every single day; once after breakfast and once after dinner, taking care not to rub too hard lest he wore the engravings out. He fed the starlight bird as well as he possibly could, but his focus was more on the cage.
“He was so focused on it, he never realised how the precious books in his library disappeared one by one, or how the numbers of weapons in his armoury started dwindling. The flowers in his garden that he had worked so hard to cultivate began to wilt and die, untended by any gardener. The gold cutleries and crystal goblets vanished too, and the food on his plates was no longer made from the freshest produce. But he cared little for them. They were of little importance compared to his precious birdcage. Even when presented with a piece of lettuce and a slice of badly cooked meat on a wooden plate, he cackled maniacally, shovelled the food down his throat, and went back to polishing the birdcage.
“Once his riches had all but disappeared, all his little friends left him to his sorry, depraved fate. His very last visitor was the young lady from the neighbouring estate.
“Now, spirit king, can you guess what that lady said?”
Roy shook her head slowly.
Hase said, almost gleefully, “She said, ‘I may have pitied the bird once before, but now I pity you more.
“’For I can no longer tell which one of you is the one trapped by a cage.’”
At this, the god within Hase burst out laughing, pleased by his tale. Roy laughed as well, although she didn’t really feel like it. She was feeling rather uneasy by the whole thing, to tell the truth, but you don’t keep a stony face when a god’s laughing in front of you. You either laugh along or you risk incurring his wrath, and Roy’s preferred option was never the second one.
He wiped the tears from his eyes, grinned at her like a little child, and she was struck by how young Hase looked. Come to think of it, she never knew how old Hase really was. Considering he mostly came to the bar to drown his sorrows in beer, there was never an appropriate time to ask. She figured he was about thirty or somewhere close, but maybe it was the beer or the reason why he was drinking that added the years to his looks, whatever that reason was. The Hase that was smiling at her right now looked close to twenty.
He motioned at her for another drink, jolting her out of her thoughts. “At any rate, spirit king, what did you think about the story?” he asked, as she refilled the tankard in front of him. Hase’s face was serious, but there was a hint of laughter in his eyes.
“What did I think?” Roy struggled to keep her thoughts together. “It was pretty funny, I suppose. And a little bit ironic that he himself became a slave to that birdcage which was supposed to enslave the bird.”
The god smirked. “Exactly. Does it not sound like a familiar situation to you?”
Something in his voice made her look at him sharply. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly, more than a little unnerved this time. What was he planning?
“I am not planning anything. Rather, spirit king, I told you that story for a reason. Do you truly not see the resemblance between you and that man?”
Roy shook her head uncertainly. “Enlighten me, black god.”
He held up one hand and said, “Here we have the pretend nobleman, bastard son of a sailor and a gypsy. He accumulated a lot of riches and acquired a treasure in the form of the starlight bird. In his attempt to enslave the bird, however, he became a slave to the birdcage himself.”
He held up his other hand. “Here we have the spirit king, a true noblewoman and knight. She took up arms and travelled the land in order to fight for the name of her king. As she became king herself, she sought to protect her kingdom in battle.
“And consequently became a slave to war instead.”
Roy flinched. Seeing this, Hase laughed even more.
“Do you see it now, spirit king? You are just like the man of the birdcage. You are the lady of war, but all you will ever attain are defeats.” His voice took on a harder edge. “You will try to protect those which you hold dear, but you will lose them all in the end. You will try to become a beacon of hope, but you will be dragged down by the deaths of your comrades. You are a lost cause, spirit king. And one day, you will die a worthless death in battle just like the man of the birdcage died in disgrace with his precious birdcage clutched in his arms.”
She slammed her hand on the table, hard. Glasses shattered. The light fixture above them went out in a tiny explosion. Windows cracked. Outside, the darkness thickened even more, but this time with the howls of lost spectres and wretched wraiths. Roy raised her head and looked at the god with rage in her eyes.
“What of you, black god?” she growled. “You, who are no longer believed in and has lost so much of his power – what of you? You can’t even summon your own corporeal form without having to rely on a vessel, that’s how weak you are.”
He bristled. “Watch your tongue-“
“Silence.” It was not a roar. It was a quiet whisper. But the lights flickered feebly, the windows cracked a little more, the glass pieces on the floor shattered into crystal dust, the wind and wraiths outside howled even louder, and even the black god within Hase was compelled to obey.
“Who do you think you are, black god?” She stared at him, the burning rage in her eyes now a cold wrath. “You are nothing but a weak, lesser deity. Nobody believes in you anymore. There is no faith in you left in this world. You are powerless. A god in name alone.” She jabbed a finger at him.
“A feeble god, trapped in a human vessel? Ha! Now who's the one enslaved here, black god?”
They held each other’s glare for a long time, neither willing to back down. Roy was enraged at this point and only the thought of the god using Hase as a vessel was holding her back from attacking him, god or not. The god himself knew his limitations all too well, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to take on a fully outraged spirit king while still in a human vessel. In the end, Hase threw his hands up in surrender.
“Very well, spirit king,” he said in a mocking tone. “I admit, I am nothing but a weak god trapped in a human vessel. That much is true.” He drained his tankard in one gulp and stood up. He reached in his pockets for his wallet, but Roy stopped him.
She snarled, “No need. I won’t have Hase paying for anything you’re drinking.”
“And here I am, trying to respect your mortal customs,” he said, scathingly.
“Keep to your selfish and godly ways, black god. Your time is nearing its end,” she retorted. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
He scowled. He turned away and began walking towards the door. Roy watched his retreating back in distaste, still feeling a little bit angry. Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, however, Hase turned and looked at her one last time.
“I might be weak and trapped in a vessel, spirit king,” he said, “but at least I have the freedom to choose where and when I want to move. You, on the other hand, cannot even move on from your past and your responsibilities.
“Makes one wonder – which of us is really the one trapped in a cage?”
With those parting words, he opened the door and disappeared into the night.
Standing there amidst broken glass and crystal dust on the floor, Roy stared at the door and ground her teeth in anger.
“This is why I hate dealing with gods,” she muttered to herself venomously.
Literature
Love
Swirling down in a pool of yearning,
A straining heart never learning,
War between desire and sense always burning,
Distinction twixt the two never discerning.
Nonsensical words spoken with adoring eyes,
Spoken from a heart soaring though azure skies,
Teddy bears, flowers, and fervent sighs,
Upon their every glance our existence lives and dies.
Skies darken, fervor fades,
Words spoken of darker shades,
Sense and reason compromise bades,
Learning to live together weeding out our foolish charades.
Trust and understanding grounded in tender affection,
Years stretching before in one direction,
Together, two hearts, without deception
Literature
Love
Love
Flower, flower
Sweet, red and mine
You make my world spin
You make my words rhyme
Blossom, blossom
How pretty you are
The te
Literature
No Symmetry
He's the lone wolf in the woods,
She's the graceful doe in the grasslands.
He's the lost boy in the cities,
She's the sweet girl in the parties.
Yet the butterflies stringed them together,
While their gaze locked their eyes.
Yet he saw something that wasn't right,
While she thought she knew that was time.
Two stars met at the same time,
Although only one shone bright.
Two worlds met at the same time,
Although only one portal was seen in sight.
The wrong key to the wrong lock,
"The hand finally struck 12", she smiled.
The wrong half to the wrong heart.
"I'm a zombie and she's a human", he cried.
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Great job, Roy. Real great job you did there.
This is for 
's wonderful Writing Tournament 2014! The theme for the first round is bird cage. I'm hoping I make this in time because the clock just hit 12.19am at the time of my writing this and the deadline is today ADFGHJKL and so yeah. Here's a link to the contest journal if anyone's interested.
's wonderful Writing Tournament 2014! The theme for the first round is bird cage. I'm hoping I make this in time because the clock just hit 12.19am at the time of my writing this and the deadline is today ADFGHJKL and so yeah. Here's a link to the contest journal if anyone's interested.So yeah, a new character in Regius Noctis! Yay! Technically it's actually two but since Hase only gets mentioned in this part, let's just stick to one, eh? As to why the god is a black god, it's because I'm using the concept of duality based on the Slavic pagan gods, Chernobog (black god) and Belobog (white god). Note that I'm only basing the idea of the god inside Hase on them; the black god isn't necessarily Chernobog, although I did draw some inspiration from it.
Hase's full name is Hase Zagaevsky, if anyone's wondering. Big shout out to Iustin my friend for giving me that wonderful surname!
You can read a little bit more about Roy (and also remember who the hell Favager and Beauchene are) here.
Writing soundtrack: vivi by Kenshi Yonezu and vivi - acoustic cover by RO★D
© 2014 - 2024 Konnono
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we have a winner... apparently 