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It was done. The battle was over and the road to the material plane safe. Now, returning to his tent, General Hob felt at an impasse. One specific conversation was locked in constant loop in his mind, one conversation he was forced to cut short due to, well, major forces.
Apollo’s molten gold blood was drying on his halberd, and he began to wipe it in earnest, trying as hard as he could not to think about the choices set in front of him. What hold had duty and honour in front of a love so all-encompassing and deep as the one he harboured for the Mistrex of the Bloom. How could he choose between the only home he had ever known and the prospect of the unknown, though tender and soft as it may be, something he never had the luxury of knowing within the Goblin court.
Pondering these dilemmas, time passed, and the bugbear found himself still polishing his halberd, now shining in the rosy light of the rising sun. Unable to help himself, his mind yet again reeled back to the discussion and his heart was weary of the words that had been thrown its way. “I love you” they had said. Could that really be true? How he wished he had kept some of those fancy mind-reading potions to delve into the depth of Delloso de la Rue’s mind and find out for himself if the words were, in fact, true. Suddenly, it occurred to him that someone in his proximity had drunk such a potion and had yet to mention a word of what they had discovered. He hasted towards the prince’s quarters, pounding on their doors. Only a barely held together thread of propriety kept him from barging into his chambers unannounced. Luckily, the prince himself opened the door but suddendly Hob realized he had no safe, acceptable way to breach the conversation. Surely, his troubled mind could have easily supplied an excuse for his visit to the prince or better even, a justification for his enquiries about his mind-reading discoveries. Instead, he blubbered something about messages and then he might have shaken the poor Princes forearm asking for more specific insight.
“Oh, K.P. Just go, go tell them!” They had urged with fond exasperation. The good prince was right, for once in his miserable life he ought to make one courageous decision. Rue deserved to know where his allegiances stood. Naturally, he was well aware that the recipient of his affections was the very same individual who had undermined all his hard-won work to advance his court in the eye of the fey society. In honesty, their betrayal stung, still, and though in past as it might be, it would not be soon forgotten. Nonetheless, his battered heart beat for the owlbear with the uproar of a thousand battlefields. He had to tell them that their affections were reciprocated; to the nine hells with the betrayal and their courts, it could be settled after. However, Hob didn’t want address Rue as subject of the Goblin court, he wanted to confess his love as a free man. As such, there was one thing he had to do before he could reach his happiness.
Hob left the dark prince’s quarters with newfound resolve and strode to the goblin pagoda. As soon as the good general walked beyond the unhinged door of the structure, he was struck by the pungent odour of sour candy and sweat that permeated the air. What was once a well-known smell, beloved and familiar, had transformed into something alien and quite frankly unpleasant. His imposing figure shook momentarily, taking in the enormity of what he was about to do as cold sweat began to form under the hem of his military coat. Still, he trudged on.
As he crossed the opening to the throne room, Hob saw the Lord and Lady eating their customary afternoon psychedelic mushroom. He had to get this over quickly, lest the mushroom took effect, and the Lords forgot his request.
He knelt in front of the two, waiting for their acknowledgement. “Rise, Hob.” said Lady Boil with nonchalance “You know well that there is no need for formality between us. You are, after all, a treasured asset for the Court.” Hob rose but still pointedly bowed in acknowledgement of the compliment. With his head bowed so, the Lord and Lady could not see his eyes, as they closed, and his brow furrowed in thought.
One breath in. Well, Hob. No going back, now. For once in your miserable life do the honourable thing and speak your mind. Battle ahead, Captain. Aye, proceed with caution, soldier, no telling what might lie behind enemy’s lines. One breath out.
“Are you going to address us, General, or where you simply meaning to promenade across the halls?” asked Lord Blemish with an arched eyebrow.
“Ah! No, of course. Pardon me, Lord Blemish.” He cleared his throat and eyed them, looking behind their smiles for some sort of encouragement. “I find myself in your presence for I wish to share with you a decision on my part.” Hob slowly began to remove his sash. “The Goblin Court has been my home for many a millennia and there has been no greater honour than to serve under its despicable, glorious banner.” He lowered his eye, studying intensely every medal he had affixed on the red velvety cloth. “Alas, I now rescind my duties and allegiance to the Goblin court as my loyalty now lies somewhere else. I shall depart your service and accept the kind invitation of Lady BINX to join the court of Craft.” One breath in “As corollary, I reserve myself the right to call off the engagement to Lady Sylmenar.” He painfully swallowed the sickness in his mouth as he continued “As it is my intention to ask for the hand of the courteous Mistrex of Ceremonies, Delloso de la Rue.” One breath out.
Hob felt the lump that had stuck in his throat for the last few hours disappear into thin air. He took a few deep breaths as he awaited the Lord and Lady’s response. The general paid no mind to the silence that followed his announcement; he already envisioned himself on the steps of Rue’s tower, a bouquet of peonies in one hand and his heart in the other. He would first apologize for the harsh words he had thrown Rue’s way and ask for their forgiveness. Next, he would unravel his heart and place it at their feet, hoping they that they would see fit to pick it up and not crush it beneath the sole of their shoes. After that, he would take their hands in his and profess as best as he could his infinite devotion for them. He could already feel the soft smoothness of Delloso’s feathers under his paws, their sweet perfume lingering in the air between them. Then, miraculously they would close the distance and-
“No.” Lady Boil’s voice ricocheted in his head like heels on an empty ballroom’s floor. He felt it clear as day: a magic bond he was not aware of had just been broken and something deep within him broke, as well. His vision suddenly swam, and he could not focus on the figure of Lord Blemish as he spoke. “My dear, gullible Hob. I cannot believe that you have actually let that animal ensnare you in their trap.” Acid bile flooded his insides as a choked whine escaped past his clenched teeth. Something was deeply wrong. He had to leave at once, look for Andhera, he would surely come to his aid.
No sooner had he raised his paw to take the first step that his knees buckled under him, and he crushed on the ground, unable to ease his fall. His blood roared in his ears, so loud that he barely made out the words of Lady Boil as she picked up where Lord Blemish had left “No matter. I told you before, Hob. You are better suited as a blunt instrument. And instruments are powerless without a hand to use them.” Pain invaded his senses as he felt something hot and sulfuric run up through his throat. His body convulsed against his will, trying to flee from this burning agony.
Lady Boil deliberately covered the distance that separated them to crouch beside his writhing form. “It is not us who do not grant you permission to leave. It is your own nature: you are nothing without your oath to us.” She said gently caressing his cheek. Hob wanted to scream, to call for help, but instead of words, his mouth spat out blood and bile. Acid and black, it was corroding the marble in front of him just as easily as it was eating through the lungs inside his chest.
“I am truly sorry, General Hob. We could have made so much more of you, hadn’t you decided to fall prey to nonsensical ideations.” Lady Boil’s voice almost took on a pitiful note “You were just not meant for freedom”. She said, resuming her position beside Lord Blemish, leaving him to fight for his last breaths alone.
Hob was terrified. He could not breath, could not think. He had collapsed in a bitter sea of red and pain. His eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he saw the stars. A memory crashed into him. The stars had been beautiful that night, when Rue had graced him, writing their name on his dance card. How had he danced that night, treading through the ballroom, their deep dark eyes taking him on a journey across the galaxies. His failing heart was dancing a waltz, now. How ironic, he mused, that he should die in the tempo that he had lived by. Not knowing the steps of the dance, all his life spent trying not to step on someone else’s toes. Chasing the finishing tunes of the last song of the evening, out of time. His long ears picked up the sound of his bones shattering from within, and he let out a gurgling gust of air, the last wail of a dying man.
Breathe, he couldn’t breathe. No, not like this. Not now, please. I never got to tell them. Lords, they will never how much I love them.
Hob felt his feeble forces wane as he desperately clawed at the stained pavement “D-delloso.” His eyelids were heavy, too heavy. “I’m sorry.” No orders had to be delivered to his heart as, for the second time in that Bloom, it decided to act on its own. In the forest swallowing a peacock’s feather, it had begun to beat and now, it ceased its wild run. Love that never blossomed withers just the same, as a peacock’s feather, wet with blood, disappears in the chasm of a heart that never got to beat for itself.
Lord Blemish curiously observed the corpse of the good General as it took its last breaths. A cadaver still moving, a rueful pliable instrument that wanted to work without its carpenters. It ceases its trashing and silence falls again on the halls. Lady Boil’s recliner creaks as she gets comfortable “Throw away the body and fetch somebody to clean the floor.”