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(23:59:59)
He sets the timer, watching the seconds tick, tick, tick by. He could not believe this, not in any way.
How in the hells was he supposed to guess that his King would sacrifice himself like this? For one from the Hostile faction of all people! For one who threatened his Architect, and yet here his King goes, laying down his head for those- those-
A deep breath in, a deep breath out. He needn’t bother himself with those fools. He has better things to do after all. It was a simple 24 hours, that’s all. His plans have waited this long, this many weeks. What’s another 24 hours?
He has many things to be completed, it’ll go by faster than a crow’s call. Perhaps even faster than the death of a blaze.
(22:34:43)
“Clown?”
“Why, you scared me for a moment there!” A lie, but a worthy one for the smile upon her face. “What can I do for you?”
“Was just wondering if you know what happened to the king?”
“Oh, why yes I do! He was, hmm, executed!”
“Executed? By who?” She gasps, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Give me just a moment to jog my memory, I’ve been much too busy since then to fully remember all the details!”
“Of course! But please do tell soon, I’m rather curious!” Ros nods, already messy purple hair becoming the slightest bit messier.
Silence befalls the two for only a moment, before Clown nods, bells jingling alongside him. “By Pili, Seapeekay, and Bad.”
“Really?”
“Yes yes! By an anvil! I fear our King was even asking for it to be done, for them to live another week!”
“Why, that’s so admirable of him!” She smiles before shaking her head. “But what shall we do while we await his return?”
“Continue with his goals, maybe. Or…” he trails off, shaking his head as well. “Nevermind. Say, did Pili and them try anything after I left yesterday?”
“Nope! Left me alone to finish the castle in peace! I even finished the rest of your room!”
“Did you now? Oh, I just can’t wait to see it! Lead the way then, m'lady.”
“Right away, Archmage!”
Up and down stairs, through one almost completed room with another throne (because there could never be enough thrones), and a few more halls, do they finally reach his room.
It was… he doesn’t quite have the words for it. Wonderful? Charming? A good representation of him, if he had anything to say about it. The details she had littered throughout: the giant scythe mounted onto the wall, a prop, of course, but nonetheless terrifying. The mural of his eye on the wall across, staring at anyone who dares to walk in. The writing desk, the rug on the floor, the fact there was an upstairs? With more storage and a giant bed, fit only for a Grand Archmage like himself.
(And one, maybe two others.)
“The lanterns can be turned on and off by magic! Took me a little bit to figure out, since it’s not, y’know, my specialty, but I did it!”
“Ros this is…”
“Do you like it?”
“No, I hate it,” he turns to her, watching her smile fade only the slightest bit. She was good at pretending in an almost impressive way. “Just kidding! I love it Ros, this is… it’s amazing. You did a great job.”
She chuckles, clapping her hands together. “Yay! I’m glad I’m glad! Oh, would you look at the time? I must be going. Goodbye Clown! I shall see you soon!”
“Goodbye Ros! ‘Till we meet again!”
With a bounce in her steps, his Architect leaves.
(She’s too good for him.)
(18:45:12)
Molluskus the Destroyer. His beloved snail had finally found him once again. He doesn’t quite know where they had gone, but it doesn’t really matter now. He had been left alone, scott-free for almost… 24 hours now. A new record, one that likely won’t be broken again.
“...And that’s what happened while you had disappeared! Now, tell me, what did you get up to, hmm?”
They look at him with unblinking eyes. The little hat he had created for them jingled as they began to move, inching their way closer before stopping. With a jump and a spin, he nods along, as if conversing through the bells. How? He’s the Grand Archmage, anything is possible for him.
“What a fascinating, joyous adventure you had!” He claps before stepping away from them and towards the blaze gathering behind them. “Here, you can take a level after I’ve finished this next weapon, is that agreeable?”
Molluskus the Destroyer jumps up once, twice, three times. They move into the corner furthest away, nestling into a pile of old blankets that Clown had created just for these moments. It was still shocking how fast he befriended the snail - a few hours, if even that. An agreement made between just the two of them, only for them to know.
It was for the benefit of them both: he doesn’t have to worry about the constant threat of losing his levels, and they can still fulfill their job while being the comfiest snail on the continent. With one more look, he turns towards the blazes, beginning the next few hours of his waiting.
Mindless. Utterly mindless. A few swipes and all would be dead. A few more minutes, more falling into his clutches, and another few swipes. He’d collect the rods, stashing them in a pile next to his feet, sizzling and hissing as they landed on one another. No matter how soft he put them, they always seemed one second away from destroying itself. He’d discard the rest, giving a few to Molluskus as a treat. Apparently, they loved the taste of blaze - any part, they’d take happily.
Not too much, of course. He rather his snail not burn from the inside out.
When he gathered enough rods, he’d gather them up, holding them as gently as possible less something goes wrong. Blaze rods were fickle things, afterall. One wrong move and… well, he rather not go into detail.
He’d walk over to his table, setting them carefully onto a red cloth. With a wave of his hand, materials would appear from the chests, almost dancing in the air as they moved, landing softly on the table as well. Rolling up his sleeves, adjusting his gloves, he set to work.
Forging tools took a rather long time, even for someone of his caliber, of his status. Or perhaps it was just the way he does it - a way of magic taught only by and to those from the hells. Blaze rods to carve the runes into the handle, to the metal. Netherite applied only after, for not even the rods can cut through it. Sometimes, he likes to add it after: a challenge of sorts, meant only for those such as him.
This was one of those times. Hammering away at the blue metal and connecting it to the wooden handle were the easy parts. Melting the netherite at a high enough temperature to be able to coat said weapon, to infuse itself into the diamond, was incredibly difficult. For everyone else but him, of course.
It helped to be from the hells. It helped to know one’s way around the material. It helped to be him.
With a whistle, he set to work. Time passed much too fast when he was working - a bad thing in every other situation but this one. Focusing on getting the temperatures perfect, banging out every kink in the metal, making sure not a single piece is left untouched; it was wonderful.
Before he knew it, it was ready to be carved.
“Molluskus, would you like a diamond?” It shouldn’t have been a question for he knew the answer already, but it came off as one anyway.
The snail practically shot up, however that worked for a snail, before jumping up and down. With a chuckle, he dropped one right in front of them, watching as they consumed it whole. How they did that, he’ll never know. Was he a little jealous? …He’d never admit it.
“A treat for waiting this long. Just a little bit longer and then you can take some levels.”
He turned away, fully trusting his snail to return to their slumber. And he does, if the glance he snuck said anything about it. The hat was the perfect thing to give them - a beastly snail pretending to be anything but. Just the way he likes it.
He smiles beneath his mask as he opens his book of runes. Filled to the brim, overfilling even, with new pages added in with string and a whisper of a spell. He’s spent a lot of time writing in it - runes, spells, various tidbits of info on the others that are scattered about. Mainly runes though, for that was the most important of all.
Flipping through the pages, he finally lands on the first of the many enchants he needs to carve. Sharpness X, the easiest of them all.
The language of runes was almost effortless to him. One could even say he was fluent in it, a rare ability for even the most talented of mages. Each stroke required perfect precision and order, for even one line too curved or too diagonal means a level smaller, or worse: something completely different. He’s seen one too many people create Unbreaking I instead of Unbreaking III. Or, stars forbid, Looting III becomes Flame.
He’ll never know how that happened. What he does know is that they were later pushed into lava, by him, their items following suit.
As he was saying, even before he came to this land, runes were simple. Too simple, even, but this has more than made up for it. Sharpness X was difficult, a challenge to be solved, but even that became too boring. Unbreakable VI was the say, Prot VII, Fortune V, any of the others: easy, easy, even easier, and so incredibly easy.
It became mindless. A challenge still, yes, but mindless all the same. Perhaps that’s why he started to carve the runes after its been put through the process of coating it in netherite. More precision, every movement having to be taken slow and exact less he carves a little too deep, too short, too long, and ruin the entire thing.
He’s done that only a few times, and every time after he’s been perfect. The Archmage could be nothing less.
(He doesn’t quite know when he finished his newest weapon. A simple sword, one of the finest weapons he’s made so far. Alas, this one won’t be the one he visits his King with.
He pets his snail as he leaves, feeling some of his essence leaving with.)
(07:34:10)
He had found a book in his King’s room. Do not wonder why he was in there, for he will not tell. But a book resting on the bed was a special book, one he wanted to know everything about, for his King never just left everything about. Blocks, weapons, tools, his lives, but never books.
He was oddly careful about books.
”In an old country, much too long ago, there was a book told to revive just about anyone.” Foolish, his King, looked down at his hands, unblinking. “It worked - too well, but it did. I was put in charge, to keep it safe for the rest of eternity. I…”
He looked away, off to the side, clenching his fists. Clown could see the stutter in his breathing, his muscles tensing and untensing, his eyes fluttering with invisible tears. He leaned forward, resting a hand softly on Foolish’s thigh. A beat before he starts to speak again.
“I was a God once, my Archmage. Demigod? A mortal gifted the powers of one, told to act as one. I dunno, it’s been too long, memories lost to time. But I… I misplaced the book, let it fall into the wrong hands.”
“My King,” he starts, moving the other hand to his jaw, forcing him to face him once again. “Surely that wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was. It was.”
So to leave a book laying about?
With a glance to the door, closed and locked, a chair moved in front and one of his weapons to keep the handles from moving, he slid over to the bed.
He’s sat in this bed only once before, still soft as ever. Slightly colder, but he ran hot - incredibly so, but one could tell no one had laid in this bed for quite a while. About… 17 hours. Maybe more. Probably more. Definitely more. His King doesn’t know rest, but he wasn’t one to speak.
(When his King returns, he’ll make sure they both rest. In his bed, of course, for the king’s bed wasn’t good enough for the two of them.)
He opens the book, reading each word as carefully as possible. Foolish’s scrawl was one of the… well, he can’t say the worst. He’s seen far, far worse, but it was still awful. Stars, how this man became king, he’d never know.
‘My Dear Subjects of the Realm!
I have lost 3 of my lives if you are reading this.
I WILL RETURN!
BadBoyHalo is a mistake and scourge on this realm. He has once more murdered me in cold blood. With CPK as my witness.
I WILL COME BACK STRONGER! AND WILL LEAD THIS REALM TO PROSPERITY AND PEACE.
Until then, splish, splash, time to dash - KING FOOLISH.’
Oh, what a clever little king he was. Perhaps he should’ve given him more credit than he has. Perhaps he needs to be more careful. His Hing had plans - and by the looks of it, he’ll gladly follow through with them.
Ah, who doesn’t love a good old fashion revenge story?
(00:03:02)
Three minutes. Three minutes was all he had left to wait. A gruelling 24 hours finally coming to a close. 24 hours gone and left, leaving only another 24. And another, and another.
But it’s okay, for now his King is back.
(And if he has anything to say about it, he’ll stay alive this time.)
He watches the clock tick down. Tick, tick, tick. Two minutes. One and a half. 59 seconds. 54 seconds. 50. Tap, tap, tapping his feet to the rhythm of it, as patient as ever. As patient as one could be, as patient as a demon waiting to be summoned to complete a deal.
25 seconds. 20. 15. Ten. Eight. Five. Three. One.
There was no loud noise to signify the revival, no shift in the atmosphere, nothing. (Nothing, for this wasn’t his, Pangi’s and Hannah’s old country.) But he knew. Even without the timer, he would’ve known that Foolish, his King, had awakened. With a wide smile he turns away from the door and to the bed, whose single inhabitant was struggling to sit up.
Practically gliding over, he helps the other up, placing a few too many pillows behind his back. Conjuring a cup of water, he brought it to his lips,
“...Archmage?”
“Yes, my King?
“What are you- what are you doing here?”
“Why, waiting for you! Should I, the royal Archmage, not be waiting to assist my King after his revival?”
“You can but-”
“No but’s! Now move over, I have much to check.”
“Uhh, okay?”
Foolish, ever the confused soul, ever the fool, moves from the center of the bed to the left, watching as Clown made his way next to him. He watches him poke and prod at various limbs, his face, his stomach and chest. He looks puzzled the entire way through, leaving Clown to hide a chuckle.
Nothing was said between them. A comfortable silence, other than the pinging of Foolish’s communicator, for apparently many were excited of his return.
“Would you like to silence it?”
“Oh! Yeah just gimme a moment.” Fumbling with it, his King quickly responds to a few messages before pressing one more button, turning it and the noises off. “Wow, I didn’t know this many people even knew I was gone!”
“Were you expecting otherwise?”
“Well, yeah kinda.”
He hums, nodding as he pulls a little too hard on one of his fingers.
“What was that for?!”
“Nothing, no reason.”
A pause. They two had become closer at some point during the examination, Foolish having been moved from his tower of pillows and turned to the side to face Clown better. Chests almost touching, Clown’s hands on his cheeks, tilting his head every which way to get every angle possible.
(His King was looking at him through lidded eyes, every breath stuttering and fighting to escape and enter. He would’ve chuckled, laughed maybe, if he wasn’t affected the same way.)
“Why did you come?”
“Were you expecting someone else?” He leans in closer, moving his head to just next to Foolish’s ear. “I hope you weren’t.”