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It was the smell which lured him out of his way and guided him to the dinning hall. Deep down, he knew there was something of importance he was meant to be doing. There was someone waiting for him.
Unconsciously, Gwynsen tried to remember, but all his thoughts faded into the background of his mind once he saw the tower of freshly baked pastries carefully placed on the table.
They exuded a sweet and delicious steam, the spicy scent of marzipan.
There were plenty, enough to feed a small army or a very hungry court.
Or, in Gwynsen’s case, a god of war with a grumbling stomach and a watering mouth.
Well, marzipan cakes are my favorite. Gwynevere finds them overly sweet and Gwyndolin often says they would rather lick a basilisk’s eyeball than to take a single bite of these sugary abominations. Oh Dolin, always so melodramatic.
Gwynsen carefully took one of the cakes in his hands.
So, surely, these were baked for me. The cooks must have wanted to surprise me. They are too generous to me. I shall see that they are rightfully rewarded! But first…
“I shall feast!” He opened his mouth and prepared to take the first bite.
“No, Gwynsen!”
But all he ended up biting was thin air and almost the tip of his tongue when, with a swift swing of her hand, Gwynevere took the cake away from him.
“What the--” Gwynsen said after his jaws recovered from the forceful impact of his empty bite. “Sister, where did you come from? And more importantly, why have you stolen my cake? Could this be fraternal betrayal?”
Gwynsen’s heart started to break at the mere thought of his own sister turning against him; thankfully, Gwynevere soon proved him wrong, but not before giving him a small slap on his head.
“Please, stop fooling around.” Gwynevere said with a heavy sigh as she placed the marzipan cake back in its former place. “Father will not approve of you eating his desserts. You know well how finicky he is about his midday cravings. Do you remember the time he destroyed the East tower with one of his lighting spears just because his pastries did not have enough powdered sugar on top? Because I do, and so do the cooks. I created many lovely memories in that tower. I loved that tower, brother, I really did.”
Gwynevere’s gaze became dark and sharp.
“Sister, please. You are scaring me.”
“Oh, I am sorry. I got a little carried away.” Immediately, Gwyenevere went back to her laid-back and cheerful demeanour, but her determination had not waned. “In any case, you shall have none of these baked goods. Unless, of course, you convince Father to share a few of them with you, but we both know that taming a rageful dragon would be an easier task, so really brother, don’t waste your time.”
“Ask Father?” Gwynsen snorted, half amused and half angry at how ridiculous the idea was. “Please. I would rather kiss Smough on the lips.”
“Brother, don’t be like that, for underneath that grotesque armor, lies a skilled kisser.”
“What?!”
“I said I would never want to do so either.”
“Gwynevere, that’s not what you said.”
“Brother, don’t you have places to be?” Gwynevere interrupted him without shame. “Isn’t it time for your daily training with Ornstein? It is not proper of a god to leave others waiting for long.”
Ornstein!
So that had been his original task before he had become distracted by the mesmerizing aroma of the cakes.
“I shall go to him at once.” Gwynsen exclaimed. His treacherous stomach seconded him with a loud growl.
He looked at the cakes again.
I’m already late for our training… so truly, you wouldn’t mind waiting for a few minutes more, would you, Ornstein?
Ornstein would definitely mind, and Gwynsen knew it.
I’ll think of a way to make it up to him later. Right now, there are more important matters at hand. And I know the way to turn things into my favor...
“Nevy, please.” Gwynsen looked around to make sure no one was around. Once he made sure there were no witnesses, he joined his hands together and looked at Gwynevere with hazy and sad eyes. “Let me have one. Father will not notice its absence, I promise. Please my dear, wise, beautiful, patient, smart, noble, brave--”
“No, Gwynsen.” Without mercy, Gwynevere interrupted her brother’s overused list of compliments. “I already told you no.”
“Then I hope you know how to explain Father about those little kisses you steal from Executioner Smough everyone now and then.”
“Oh dear… you know about it? Yes, I should have expected it. Gossip travels faster than light in this place.”
“So it’s true?! Gwynevere, you really should be more mindful of your secrets and your words. You are not what I would call subtle about them. And why, sister? Why Smough?”
“I think the right question here is ‘ Why not Smough?’ ” Gwynevere answered, winking an eye to Gwynsen.
“Gwynevere, stop. You’re killing your big brother.”
Unrepentantly, Gwynevere chuckled. “Don’t you worry, it was all a jest. Very well Gwynsen… if only to keep this small rumor between us, I shall let you eat one of Father’s cakes. Just one, understood? Now, if you excuse me, I too have someone to meet. He awaits for me in the west tower. And that someone’s name is Smough.”
Lighting power began to manifest around Gwynsen’s frame.
That bastard! How does he dare?
Gwynevere laughed at his reaction. “Oh brother, you are so easy to fool.”
She gave him a small pat on top of his head to calm him down. Gwynsen had just succeeded in controlling his temper when Gwynevere pulled him closer to her and whispered, “Seriously now, don’t come by.”
And with that, she was gone.
“My dear sister and the Executioner? No, I will not allow it!” Gwynsen exclaimed, his voice echoing with ruthless determination, the same way it did every time he commanded his soldiers to battle. “This is a transgression I cannot overlook! Wrathful lighting shall be your punishment, Smough! You shall curse the day you were--”
His stomach growled again.
Almost unconsciously, one of his hands reached for a marzipan cake.
“By the first flame, they sure smell good.”
His fury started to disappear, and it was completely forgotten when, at last, Gwynsen took the first bite.
“Master!” Ornstein welcomed him as soon as Gwynsen entered the training grounds. His apprentice and friend did not bother to hide his anger at his pronounced delay. “What took you so long? We were supposed to start our training two hours ago. I had to listen to Artorias’ anecdotes this whole time. And don’t get me wrong, Artorias is my beloved friend and you know how much I care about him, but I swear, if I ever hear one more story about Sif’s antics...”
“What?” Gwynsen had heard only half of Ornstein’s rant. He wanted to pay attention, but it was difficult for him to focus on anything else other than the torturous knot on his stomach.
It hurt more than a dragon fang stuck in his gut after failing to evade the beast’s jaws. Gwynsen didn’t know how he was still standing, or how his fever had not melted his brains yet.
Oh, nonsense. I’m fine. Am I not the god who slays dozens of dragons and comes out of their fiery attacks unscathed? I am fine! I just need to walk it off.
“Oh… Oh yes, Artorias.” Gwynsen said, doing his best to sound amused. “Where is he? I thought he would be joining us.”
“He had to leave. It was time for Sif’s daily walk.”
“Wait, the wolf walks his master?”
“What? Master, what are you talking about? Sif is the wolf, Artorias is the knight.”
“Oh… right.”
An awkward pause followed, one in which Ornstein took off his helmet and revealed his concerned expression to Gwynsen.
“Master, is everything alright?”
Ornstein’s worry was like a wake-up call for Gwynsen.
“Of course it is! “Gwynsen replied with the most forced smile he had ever made in his life, even more than when he had to pretend to be happy in his father’s presence. “ Why would you ever think otherwise, Ornstein?”
“You are sweating, your face is red, your legs are trembling.” Orbstein observed, unamused but still concerned. “And you keep embracing your stomach as if you were hugging an invisible lover.”
“Ornstein, don’t tell me you’re jealous!” With gigantic effort, Gwynsen straightened his back and unfolded his arms. The sharp sting in his stomach came close to making him gasp; to conceal it, Gwynsen cackled instead. “There is no such thing as an invisible lover in my arms! Ornstein, you say the wildest of things!”
An agonizing sting pierced Gwynsen’s stomach.
I am going to pass out.
His sight blurred and his belly burned as if he had swallowed the First Flame like it was wine.
No!
Gwynsen stomped his feet. Lighting energy shattered the ground below his sandal.
No, I am not sick! I am fine. My stomach is simply overreacting at the memory of my sister and Executioner Smough sharing kisses.
His stomach growled louder than a furious dragon.
Why Gwynevere? Why did you brand that image on your brother’s mind?
“Master, you are not well!” Ornstein exclaimed with great concern. “We need to take you to Lady Gwynevere. She will know how you heal whatever ailment is--”
“Nonsense!” Gwynsen countered, making Ornstein jolt back in surprise. “My sister is quite busy, you see. He is tending to Smough at this time of the day, and not in a chaste way.”
“What?” Gwynsen and Ornstein said at the same time.
Realizing he had spoken more than he should have, Gwynsen quickly gave Ornstein a strong slap on the back. “It was a jest! Ornstein, you are such a stick in the mud! You need to loosen up and relax, for laughing and resting are also fundamental parts of a knight’s training.”
Before Ornstein could protest, Gwynsen wielded his spear and readied his fighting stance.
My stomach is going to explode. Oh Father, what will you see when you gaze upon the scattered guts of your first- born?
He would probably say something akin to “Oh Gwynsen, look at the mess you made! You are a lost case, boy, you truly are!”
“Oh Father, you insensitive knave!”
“Master, there’s no need to be rude.” Ornstein protested. He too had wielded his spear and had readied his stance.
“No, I was not talking about you, Ornstein. I was talking of my big, dumb, stupid… No, it doesn’t matter.” Gwynsen shook his head and focused. “Let’s begin. Come at me and try to land a hit, Ornstein. I will treat you as I would an enemy, so don’t hold back.”
“Master, I really think we should take you to your sister instead.”
“You talk too much! Battles are not won with words, but with arms!” Gwynsen charged at Ornstein. For a second, the adrenaline of battle, even one of training nature, erased any trace of pain. For Gwynsen, it was like a blissful and distracting gift.
I knew it. I knew my pain would go away on its own.
Gwynsen closed his eyes, rejoicing in his healthy and numb stomach.
You were no foe for this god of war, marzipan cakes! Your sweet and delicious ingredients are no match for my iron guts. MY IRON---
The rest of his victorious thought remained forever unfinished after an explosion of burning pain, born from the impact of the blunt side of Ornstein’s spear, spread from his stomach to the rest of his body.
Perhaps… I am sick.
Gwynsen thought as the darkness of unconsciousness took over his world.
Just a little bit.
“Last time, Gwynsen.” Gwynevere said to her brother with anger as she and Ornstein helped Gwynsen keep the vasin still on his lap as he emptied his stomach inside it. “That was the last time I ever trusted you and your insatiable hunger!”
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to.” Gwynsen stuttered in a small pause his intestines gave him. “My will may be strong, but the marzipan was stronger.”
He wanted to say more, but he was interrupted by another gush rushing up his throat. Once he was done, Gwynevere and Ornstein put the vasin down on the floor and tucked him in bed.
“Well, I have to say,” Ornstein sighed with little enthusiasm, “this is not how I pictured my day would go. There was supposed to be more training in it and less vomit. At the very least, I am glad you are feeling better now, master. Next time, don’t try so hard to pretend you aren’t feeling well.”
“And while you are at it, how about you also try not to devour four hundred marzipan cakes in one go like some hungry animal?” Gwynevere added as she glared at her brother. “God of war… The only thing you are a god of is gluttony!”
“Four hundred marzipan cakes?” Ornstein said in disbelief, only adding to Gwynsen’s shame. “Master, how could you have done such a thing? And here I was starting to think one of the cooks had tried to poison you! Four hundred cakes! And worst of all, why didn’t you ask me to join you or save some for me? You know they are my favorite too.”
“Dragon Slayer Ornstein!”
“N-no, no.” Ornstein turned crimson and began to stutter. “What I meant was… I was just saying… Oh, bollocks.”
“Ornstein!” A newcomer exclaimed. He entered the room and carefully closed the door behind him. “Such foul language in the presence of Lady Gwynevere. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Gwynsen, Gwynevere and Ornstein stared at Artorias at the same time.
“Hey now, do not look at me all at once.” Artorias chuckled nervously. “No, seriously, please stop. I’m getting self-conscious.”
“Artorias, what are you doing here?” Ornstein asked. “I thought you were walking Sif.”
“I was, but Lord Gwyn summoned me. He told me about what happened with Lord Gwynsen and his poisoning. Something about marzipan cakes? I am not sure. Honestly, I stopped listening to Lord Gwyn soon after he started talking. I don’t know the details, but he assigned me one task: to be Lord Gwynsen’s one and only companion during his recovery. I told Lord Gwyn that you would be more fit for the job, Ornstein, but he insisted I was the one to do it. He also told me how much Lord Gwynsen is fond of my anecdotes of Sif…. Oh master, I had no idea you felt that way. Worry not, I have plenty of stories I have not told you yet. I’m sure they will be a fine diversion while you recover!”
Gwynsen closed his eyes and cursed his father in his mind.
Father, you vengeful twit! I knew you would not let my mischief go unpunished! It was just some cakes… is this truly the punishment I deserve? You are cruel, Father. Cruel.
“But at the very least, I’m not alone.” Gwynsen said under his breath with relief and gratitude. He opened his eyes again and smiled. “For I have my dear sister and loyal friend by my side.”
The words died in his mouth when he saw neither Gwynevere nor Ornstein around. The only evidence they had left behind of their presence in the room was the open door they had forgotten to close during their hurried escape.
“Nevy?” Gwynsen whispered in despair. “Orny?”
But they were gone.
Only Artorias was there with him.
Artorias and his endless anecdotes of Sif.
“Do not worry master, I am sure they will be back soon.” Artorias said, pulling a chair closer to Gwynsen’s bed and sitting on it. “In the meanwhile, how about I tell you about the time Sif answered the call on nature inside Smough’s helmet and he only noticed once he put it on? That was a day Smough will not forget....”
Father, if I ever turn against you, know that this was the reason!
Gwynsen thought as he hid his head under the pillow.
As for Artorias, he kept talking and talking.
This was the reason!
It didn’t take long for Ornstein to regret having left his master behind.
“Oh Lady Gwynevere, we should have not abandoned your brother. We should have remained by his side.”
“And listen to the time when Sif chewed on Father’s favorite sandals and almost brought doom upon us all? Do forgive Ornstein, but I think I shall pass. Besides...” Gwynevere turned around and stared longingly at the West tower. “There is someone waiting for me, and his name is…”
“No, I do not want to hear it. My mind shall not be branded as my master’s was!” Ornstein covered his ears and escaped from the scene. He did not know where he was going, but anywhere was better than staying there. As he ran, he kept chanting, “If I don’t hear, it isn’t real. If it isn’t real, it won’t haunt me!”
Gwynevere watched him go and laughed, unaware that Smough was standing behind her and had witnessed the whole thing.
Before he too walked away, he shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“By the Lords,” he lamented under his breath, “it is always the same thing with these gods and their knights. Every day. Every darn day.”