Chapter Text
The title ‘commander’ didn’t feel as grand when he first got it.
He’s been raised by wolf tamers all his life, so everyone feels more like family and titles are only formalities. People his age (some even older) would be captains, leaders of the smallest group of wolves, while a commander would be handling three to four of these captains. And since his promotion was sudden, no one was really prepared to treat him that differently (not that he hates it).
It's the same for his fellow commanders. A lot of them are grandparents now and are familiar with raising Chip throughout the years, so treating him like a grandson was something that came first than commander (again, not that he hates it).
No one takes their title seriously anyway either, they’d call each other like one would call a neighbor: gramps, auntie, senior; anything but their titles.
It didn’t bother Chip; he knew what the environment was like for the wolf tamers, and it’d be stupid to make everything change just so he can flaunt his title a bit more.
What he didn’t like, though, is the workload he has now.
Captains are leaders for a squadron, while commanders are leaders of three or four of these squadrons, a battalion. It certainly means more men under him, but it also means that the ‘dirty work’ of taking care of a squadron’s wolves is off his hands now. Where his daily routine used to cover taking care of up to ten of them a day, now he just takes care of his bonded one while looking at reports for the others.
Sometimes he’ll look at familiar names of these wolves and wonder how they’re actually doing. He could never doubt his colleagues’ work, he just misses playing with them, brushing their fur, feeding them…
“Chip?”
An old voice called out to him from outside the tent, a commander. “Commanders’ meeting.”
It’s teasing, but he appreciates the reminder. At least he knows he can eat meat and drink beer after this, not worrying about paying for it.
“Expecting me to round them up, grandma?”
“Hey, you know how us old folks are.”
X
He agreed on a business trip with His Majesty thinking it’d be another chance to meet his pen pal from Hollyberry Kingdom, though it seems to be only them this time around. Maybe he should actually visit him again sometime.
The Crème Republic wasn’t all that different from last time, topside still pristine while the undercity seemingly more kept than he remembered. It’s absurd to expect such a change so quickly, even parts of his own kingdom are still recovering from a coup and parts of their walls being torn down. It’s even harder to expect the best considering who is in charge.
“Captain!”
It’s the first time he’s been called that for a while now. Again, no one really called him that in his actual captain days either. So, whoever is calling him is some who’s definitely not a wolf tamer, and certainly not someone he would call a close friend.
He turns to see the (youngest elected) consul of the Crème Republic, greeting him as he walks out of his current accommodation. It’s certainly a weird place to greet someone, if the consul were following him, he’ll certainly know, but meeting him so coincidentally was even weirder. What does he want?
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he continued, “When the guest book listed a commander, I thought it’d be someone else.”
“I also wrote my name,” he snarks.
“Yes, well, naming conventions an all.”
Granted, it was kind of how some people have numbers or don’t even have ‘cookie’ in their name, but the author will ignore this for immersion.
“I didn’t want to jump to conclusion,” back on topic, “I didn’t realize you were promoted.”
“Eh, it’s not much,”
“Nonsense, you’ve done so much during the Soul Jam Crisis, it’s the least you deserve.”
It isn’t much, really. The only difference between his captain days and commander days is just the amount of paperwork he gets now, and frankly, his wrists probably have permanent ink marks now. The Soul Jam Crisis was the highlight of his career as a captain, which he’s a bit reluctant to thank the consul for, considering he’s also the cause.
“…Thanks.” He says, “I’ll—”
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to celebrate.” He sounded like he genuinely regretted it.
Celebration is probably an overstatement. The wolf tamers only seemed interested in getting their drinks paid for, though he only paid one for each. He tries to hide a smile thinking about the ones who thought all of it was on the house and tried (teasingly) blaming him after.
“It’s passed now,”
“Right, of course.”
“I’ll be meeting His Majesty now.” He repeats, walking away.
“Well, I won’t keep you, commander.”
His ears perked up. The first time someone called him that title after his king, the one who bestowed him said title. It does have a nice ring to it, and like Clotted says, it’s probably the least he deserves. In a way it felt like the consul was humbling himself for him, kind of a power trip. He didn’t like how it made him feel (for now).
X
The next few days were for meetings. His Majesty seemed to have undergone a… transformation after their expedition in Beast-Yeast and is reporting his experiences with the consul to prepare the republic. It’s certainly a lot to digest, sensing genuine dread from the room when the king explains how he barely defeated one Beast.
Clotted has a lot to say, still, and he’s certainly seemed more open to criticism this time, but Chip admits it’s hard to really pay attention.
It may be a cultural thing, but the consul seems obsessed with titles and Chip is having a hard time actually being addressed as such.
He takes pauses when he’s called by his title, sometimes Clotted needed to add his name after to get his full attention. When ‘commander’ is written on board, he has to process that that’s him they are talking about. His Majesty seems to adapt to this better, even calling him commander when talking and addressing him.
He thinks maybe that’s why he’s called to this trip, sure no one really calls him that, but His Majesty wants him to know that it’s still him.
That, or it was pure coincidence.
The weeks have passed, and he’s noticed people from topside are way too obsessed with titles. When meeting with the elders when consulting things for their next expedition, he’s frequently scolded for not referring to them as such. When people ask for his name, they would add ‘sir’ before it, sometimes even calling him ‘commander’ when he slips in his job during an introduction.
This he could handle, it’s not with people he would meet often, the only exception is Clotted.
Chip is currently staying at his manor the whole trip, so he’s bound to meet him in the hallways and have dinner with him just as much. He thought that the formalities would be gone once the consul was at home, or at least outside meetings, but it seems to be permanent. It was certainly odd; it gives him the impression that Clotted never lets his guard down.
“Enjoying the garden, commander?”
Chip rolled his eyes, somehow only having Clotted call him that makes his title’s value diminish.
Being outside was more for his wolf, needing a walk and being fond of the new and familiar smells the Custard Manor had to offer. The garden is well kept, Chip notes, whether it’d be the color choice that bring out the whole scenery or how much of it seem to be native to the republic. No yards of grass that he often sees in the other houses across the street.
“You got someone to curate this?”
“This?”
“The garden.”
“Hmm, you could say that.”
Clotted sits on a stone bench next to where Chip was crouching, inspecting the same flower he’s never seen anywhere else but this garden. His wolf has moved to inspect the other flowers in the vicinity, hopefully not ruining anything.
“I consulted a few botanists,” he continued, “a bit of a conservation project.”
That piqued the commander’s interest, briefly looking up to the consul who’s doing the same, standing up to break eye contact. It’s not very often that they’re alone together, the only conversations they have are in meeting rooms and when passing each other at the halls. He’s not sure if it’s a safe conversation either, considering their first time didn’t go so well.
“Like the flowers from the Vanilla Kingdom?” He asks, remembering some lilies planted in parts of the garden.
“You noticed,” he whispered with noticeable glee, “But, not quite.”
Clotted continues to talk about some flowers and a lot of trees native to the island, considering their geography, their climate is a lot different from the one in the Vanilla Kingdom, so choosing what’s evergreen was difficult. A lot of the citizens here, especially ones who still remember the republic’s early days, would sometimes force ones specifically from their previous kingdom as a sort of comfort. He can’t blame them, but it’s always sad to hear how they would wilt during hot and humid summers.
Chip was surprised by how much he cared, not just for the plants, but for the citizens who care for them. He starts to think about the flowers and trees in his own kingdom, what he could bring here, what would be evergreen, and slowly understand the worries and concern it would bring if his people were in the republic’s shoes.
“Do you have a plant in mind?” Clotted asks, noticing how quiet the commander is being.
He sees his wolf chasing a butterfly in peripheral of his vision.
“No,” he says, pausing, feeling a bit rude after Clotted went on his tangent, “the Dark Cacao Kingdom’s climate is very extreme, it’s only warmed a quarter of the year. The only thing that would survive here is a few trees.”
“Produce must be difficult.”
“We get by,”
“Is that why you have a penchant for bitter things, commander?”
“Heh, not really, Caramel Arrow gets any chance she gets to get sweet milk tea with those tapioca balls.”
It was a bit silent after that, Chip looking back at the consul to see him a bit stunned but smiling after.
“What?”
Clotted shakes his head, “This drink… I’ve never heard of it before.”
Oh, another cultural difference. Chip contemplates whether he should explain it, or how he choked the first time he drank it and got an upset stomach after. How Caramel Arrow laughed but never offered it again but still getting when they hang out together. It all seems too personal.
“It’s really sweet.”
“Hmm, perhaps I’ll like it.”
“No,” he warns, “it’s nothing like your scones.”
Clotted laughs.
“Then I guess this ‘Caramel Arrow’ has a sweeter tooth than me.”
Chip realizes it’s the first time he has mentioned someone else in their conversations, usually it’s just entities relating to his work, and technically she is, but he would’ve referred to her as part of the Watchers. This is the first time he has named a friend.
He stayed silent, which the consul noticed. “Apologies,” he stands, “I should get back now.”
It’s the few times Chip feels bad for keeping his guard up, but he feels like if he talked any further the consul would use it against him somehow.
“Thank you for enjoying my garden, commander.”
X
“Have you picked your candidates, your Majesty?”
It’s one of their last few meetings. So far, they’ve discussed how to approach the land of Beast-Yeast better, countering its spores and how to avoid being turned to flour. There’s still a lot of unknown variables, but they concluded with nothing wrong in strengthening their power, especially of their soldiers.
This is where the republic’s Magic Candy research comes in. Though it can give a certain fixed power to its wearer, enhancing it has a certain risk of failing, prolonging the process. It’s observed to have higher success rates with stronger cookies, which Clotted consulted His Majesty with.
“I have decided on two so far,”
Chip turns to listen intently. He’s proposed himself many times for this opportunity, a bit saddened by His Majesty’s reluctance to discuss it with him. He really wants one of them to be him, it would guarantee him to go to Beast-Yeast and fight alongside him again.
His expressions drop when the two cookies are named.
X
“I assume you are dissatisfied, commander.”
He doesn’t feel like he deserves that title.
They were in the garden again, days before it was time for him and the King would go back home. The atmosphere in the republic has been stuffy, the food sweeter than he liked, and far too tranquil for him, he fears he’d come back soft. But when he does, he has to grapple with the fact that he came here for nothing, feeling like an asshole because he can’t be happy to celebrate for his friends.
He's been rationalizing why he wasn’t picked. Because he’s strong already, the ones who are chosen needed it more, it’s experimental and they’re saving him last. Anything to not let him fall into a depression of sorts.
“Can tell?”
Clotted sighed and sat beside him on the same stone bench they talked at before, keeping a noticeable distance.
“I can—”
“I don’t want to defy His Majesty.”
A long silence.
It’s been explained before. One Magic Candy will go to one of the paladins in the Milk Tribe, they’re a small group and need everything to protect themselves, especially since their tribe is situated much further from the castle. The other Magic Candy will be given to Caramel Arrow, someone who’s technically his senior and has the job of scouting things out beforehand. It made sense, he couldn’t argue with that.
“Commander,”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I don’t think one so-called ‘failure’ instantly demotes you, commander.”
It’s not. He’s just upset and isn’t in the right time, place, or mood to handle it, doesn’t help that he’s being comforted by his worst possible choice.
“No one calls me that.”
Clotted was silent, as if taking it in. Maybe he’ll finally get the hint that people from his kingdom don’t revere titles as much as the republic does, but maybe he interprets it as something else.
“No one called me ‘consul’ in my first few years,” he starts, trying to sympathize, “I didn’t correct them and only let my work speak for itself,”
Chip listens, though their situations are completely different, he somewhat understands why the consul is sharing this story. In the short month he’s been here, the citizens’ obsession with titles would make Clotted’s struggle make sense, though a bit dramatic.
“Actions speak louder than words, as a Hollyberrian would say.”
Chip smiles at himself, yeah, Wildberry does say that—
“What did you say?”
“…I don’t think I’m the best person to say it.” He smiles at Chip before standing up, “I respect you, commander, and I will continue to call you that until you feel deserving of it.”
Clotted turns away, his stride slow, as if hesitant to leave, or nervous after pouring his heart out, but looks back to Chip one last time.
“Goodnight, commander.”
X
“Chip,”
His Majesty called him on their way to their rooms on the ship back.
“I’m sorry for not choosing you.”
Relief.
“It’s alright, your Majesty.”
He slept a bit better that night.
X
Preparations for their next expedition to Beast-Yeast are slow. There’s still a lot to rebuild and training willing common folk for a possible battle can’t be done overnight. He will take his time.
The last few words the consul said to him lingers in his mind. It’s overdramatic, yes, but he can’t help but appreciate the thought. Out of respect, he recounts, he had thought Clotted had been calling him commander to keep a distance, putting his job over his given name, but now he thinks it’s for the opposite. He doesn’t hate the formalities if that’s the case.
No one calls him commander when he comes back, only in a teasing way, reminded by the way the consul calls him. At least, in his memory, perhaps there was something else beyond Clotted’s tone.
He’s writing to Wildberry currently, updating him on his trip to the republic. It reads more as a work report, but the two are awkward in that sense anyway, a bit too serious for the people around them. It’s why it’s so easy talking to him sometimes.
He packs the knight with sweets he got from the republic, complete with a recipe that Clotted had slipped in. A lot of the wolf tamers aren’t fond of sweets either (considering their age and diet), but he realizes he never asked Wildberry for his food preferences. Only remembering his dislike for juice (and seeing the irony of it).
Chip’s mind wanders to the topic of his title again, considering Wildberry is a knight, there’s definitely chivalry involved in that, right? He’s not familiar with the word quite yet. From his perspective, the republic and the Hollyberry Kingdom seem to have a similar fondness for the extravagance, so maybe titles are more common there? He writes the question at the very bottom of his letter, hoping Wildberry would maybe ignore it.
“Not really,” Wildberry surprisingly replies, “I call Hollyberry Cookie ‘Her Majesty’ and ‘Queen Mother’ but it’s never anything serious. Even she tells me to loosen up.”
Chip felt relief again, even laughing a bit at the thought of Wildberry being scolded.
X
Over time Chip has found himself really obsessed with titles. He calls a lot of his fellow commanders his grandparents, and isn’t that also a title? Same with people who call him senior or brother. Perhaps Clotted was trying to mimic that in a way, the only problem is that the republic doesn’t really have words for these ties.
Since being called commander is rare, he finds himself expecting Clotted to be there to use it on him, as if to fill a very small void in his mind. He’s the only person Chip knows who would call him that, so he pauses a bit when someone else does. It’s become an exclusive title of sorts, a word only Clotted can use for him.
What started off as something he deemed distancing has become weirdly intimate. Chip doesn’t like how it makes him feel (for now).
X
“Oh, commander, commander~”
A captain his age and directly under him called out in such a way that he can’t even imagine Clotted saying it. They had a letter in hand, granted he’s always shy about his coworkers finding his letters from Wildberry, but he noticed the envelope being a different color, which would explain the teasing tone.
“What is it this time?”
“Really fancy letter for you,” they placed it on the table, it’s certainly a lot fancier than the letters he usually gets.
“Thank you.”
“Who’s it from? Guy sounds fancy.”
Chip hummed, “You can say that.”
The captain lingered for a while, as if waiting for the commander to open said letter. It’s a bit awkward.
“Captain,” he teases, “this is a private letter.”
“Haha, would’ve fooled me, it’s so… formal. Wrote out your full title and everything.”
“That’s very nice of him,” Chip says genuinely for once, “Now shoo!”
The captain walks out giggling.
He sighed while he carefully inspected the letter. Paper used for the enveloped felt heavier, wax seal with golden paint on top, his address and name written in beautiful but legible cursive. It did look too formal to be a personal letter.
“Dear commander,” it starts, he can hear it in the consul’s voice.
“The thought of you returning to your kingdom disappointed while under my care has given me sleepless nights of regret.”
Wow, dramatic as always.
“I have discussed with the researchers, and I understand if you are dissatisfied with my choice of action, considering what you said yourself and not defying your king. I, however, am not a citizen of the Dark Cacao Kingdom. This transgression is purely of my own accord.”
Chip straighten his posture, mildly concerned, the use of ‘transgression’ feels too severe after reading what’s next.
“We’re developing a way to make Magic Candies react better to specific people, we realize that our Oyster Soldiers are similar in build in strength to not have this problem. To truly give this power to the people like I hoped, I realize we needed to put much more effort to be inclusive on who ‘everyone’ is.”
He breathes, he can guess where this is going. He’s glad Clotted asked, because it might get him in trouble.
“Naturally, I want you to be the first to test this. It’s best for you to come and talk with the researchers themselves.”
Of course.
“Please do not take this as me using you as a guinea pig or as a way for me to gain political favor, whether it’s from you or His Majesty. I am simply extending my respect for you, commander. I think, more than anyone, you deserve this.”
Those words again, Clotted is certainly doing more than he expected for ‘extending respect’ to him. He almost forgot the conclusion to his business trip to the republic, only remembering things pertaining to him and the garden he would spend his time with his wolf at. Gosh, how long has it been? A few months now… he can’t believe the consul has been thinking about him all this time.
Although stated in the letter, he can’t help but be skeptical, still. The two rarely meet and after discovering his promotion, the consul’s behavior seemed a lot friendlier than the previous times they’ve meet. He wonders what happened, or if he did something. He feels guilty for denying what could be genuine kindness, but he doesn’t want to come off as too trusting of Clotted just yet.
Chip sighed and took out two pieces of paper and started writing.
X
Chip is back in the republic.
Getting permission was surprisingly easy, and His Majesty didn’t seem to mind him ‘rebelling’ a bit, just concerned, considering the nature of Magic Candies.
He paces around his wolf at the harbor, his ship had already left and now he’s just waiting for Wildberry to arrive. He’s less nervous about meeting the knight as opposed to meeting the consul, he hasn’t factor in the fact that he will be called commander once they meet again. He’s still not sure how to feel about it.
“Commander.”
Chip jumped, oh god, he’s not ready for this right now. He turns to expect the consul once again, even more now that he’s in the republic, but he’s surprised to see Financier waiting on him.
“Oh,” he said, unintentionally disappointed, “It’s just you.”
The paladin tilts her head, as if trying to decipher his reaction.
“The consul is currently busy and can’t greet you in person, so he called for me since we’re familiar with each other.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“As for Wildberry, his ship should arrive at a different dock.”
“Hey, what’s that?”
Another confused look. “What’s what?”
“You called him Wildberry but called me commander.”
“Yes, well, the consul was adamant on it.”
“Yeah, well it’s weird,” he said without thinking, but panicked and backtracked. “That’s his thing, you don’t need to do it too.”
He’s still unsure how to feel about only Clotted using his title, and he fears he would never find out if some half-thought comment stopped the consul from saying it completely. Maybe he’s the one who’s weird, but he also thinks it’s weird of the consul to be obsessed with it first.
“Alright,” she concedes, “We should get going then.”
They walked across the harbor, looking over at the market not far off, his wolf barking in its direction. He should buy a new toy, he thinks. He’s not shy about this now, considering it’s just him and a friend basically being on vacation, he doesn’t have to act tough to save face.
He sees Wildberry in the distance (not hard to miss, really) and he’s already surrounded by people in awe of his stature, whether it be merchants or sailors who are looking for workers or people just trying to flirt with him (and failing). The knight’s face was blank, but Chip can tell he’s getting a bit annoyed by the attention, this trip is still a business one, so he’d like to get work done first.
Chip waved from afar and Wildberry noticed the two, walking over to them silently and looking over at Financier as if to give them an excuse to slip away.
“House Custard is awaiting your arrival.” She said loudly.
It deterred the people from sticking further, some not interested in people who are friendly with a consul, the others realizing they were intervening in something important. The trio walked further away as the crowd dispersed, Wildberry sighing in relief.
“Wish I was greeted with that kind of crowd.” Chip jokes, trying to lighten the mood so the knight can relax.
“Maybe if they could see you,” Wildberry said back, ironic considering he noticed Chip in the crowd surrounding him.
“Hey…!”
The two continue to talk. Things that would be difficult or never come up whenever they write letters to each other, sometimes Financier would join in, somehow making the atmosphere livelier. It’s nice to catch up on things, especially since it’s been a while since all three of them were in the same room.
Contrary to what the paladin said earlier, they arrived at the Institute of Thaumaturgy.
Financier explains that Clotted himself is currently there overseeing the research they came here for, the building seemed more hectic from last time, no one exactly welcomed them or showed them where to go. Probably why the two were picked up.
Chip admits it’s a bit selfish of him to ask Wildberry to come with him. He wrote about not trusting the consul fully and needing him as backup, but he fears that it’s obvious that he’s worried about something else when meeting in person. The knight didn’t pry, though, waiting for the right time, which he’s grateful for.
It’s probably why their appointment took so long to plan; the consul now has to account for two risky experiments instead of the suspected one. His letters didn’t hint at him being annoyed by the sudden request, but Chip learns that the consul is really good at hiding things.
Financier stops at an unassuming door and knocks it.
“Consul, they’re here.”
There’s a brief silence before the obvious sounds of scurrying; papers being knocked over and squeaking furniture before the door is opened. A prim and proper consul emerged behind it, though there’s obvious wear on his face.
“Welcome, welcome!” voice enthusiastic, though it’s obvious its compensating for something.
“We won’t be conversing here,” he said, immediately closing the door behind him, “Please, come this way.”
X
Wildberry caught up with Clotted on why exactly they’re there, Chip regrets being vague in his letter to him because it’s a lot to explain. What is new is the process, usually the wearer would have to adapt to a Magic Candy, but they’re trying to do the opposite. It’ll be a slow process, Clotted explains, and one needs frequent sample of their dough to see how the Candy reacts.
Chip notes that Clotted is explaining this at the top of his head, it may be because he’s the one who proposed Magic Candies in the first place, but the consul didn’t seem like the type of person to be an expert at this. He can’t help but find it attractive.
Chip instinctively slapped himself, startling everyone.
“Ah, apologies,” Clotted takes the blame, “must be boring, yes? It’s nearing teatime too.”
He passes a glance at Financier, which was apparently enough for her to walk out.
“I will be momentarily out as well,” he says, standing up and collecting the paperwork on the main table, “Please feel free to longue and drink first when Financier arrives.”
They were then promptly left alone.
The room was more of a meeting room than a guest one. One table and floor-to-ceiling windows on one side looking towards the Monument Spire far off in the distance. They’ve been sitting on a couch and despite its comfort, have gotten numb for the commander, standing up and letting his wolf take his place.
He looks over the whiteboard the consul has written over, things neatly written and erased, a flowchart easy to understand even for them who’s not familiar with magichanical terms. He wonders how long Clotted had been preparing for this.
“Chip?” Wildberry finally cuts in the silence.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think the way Clotted talks is weird?”
“Ah, all the formal stuff?”
“No.” he said, frank, “I never hear him say your name.”
He’s been trying to ignore that, actually, guess no escaping it now.
Clotted had referred to everyone by their names, even the professors and researchers he cited (though with their titles), but he has never uttered Chip’s name once. Only his title. Financier even stopped calling him that after he asked, opting to only referring to him and Wildberry together. At least he actually pays more attention when it was uttered now, though it’s still only when the consul is saying it.
“He’s weird like that.” It is the only explanation he can give.
“Did something happen?” the knight worries, “it sounds like he’s doing it out of spite.”
Oh.
Was he misunderstanding this after all? He’s already skeptical of the consul’s words, verbally or on paper, and this whole ‘title’ debacle seems to be observable by people other than himself. It’s the first time he’s actually getting a second opinion about this, one that is hopefully not biased against him.
“Last time I was here, he said it’s out of respect.”
“You don’t like it though, right?”
“It’s not like that,” he explains, “It’s just— no one calls me that… like this, it’s weird enough already, then he had to go and add some excuse on top of it!”
He feels a hand on his shoulder. It turns out he’s been rambling and overthinking about this whole thing that he didn’t realize Wildberry had stood next to him. He relaxes, and the hand on his shoulder retreats while he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“…Do you think he has other motives?”
“No,” his voice calm, loosens the mood, “but I can’t fully trust him either.”
Chip huffs a tired laugh, “You and me both.”
X
They had tea, conversation was sparse considering how tense Chip was, and neither Financier nor Wildberry are the type to start one. Though he wouldn’t say it was unpleasant. The tea was on the bitter side, the knight had to add at least four sugar cubes before he could comfortably drink it. The snacks were also milder, Chip would even call it salty, but it paired the tea well. He can’t help but feel like this catered to him of sorts.
Clotted joined very late at the end, pouring himself the last cup of tea and a bit of a biscuit before herding them off to a lab where the experiment is held.
The space was probably the largest one they had, but there was still a sense of urgency from the researchers. Their turn at the lab was ending soon, so one of them approached the three and asked them to prick their fingers for samples. He’s surprised that Financier was also involved, turning to look at her.
“To show our good faith,” she said, seemingly understanding.
He hears Clotted sigh, though he’s not sure what it means, but he excused himself shortly after.
Chip and Wildberry asked around a bit more about the research to anyone who’s free before they walk back to the Custard Mansion. Financier leaving them at the gates.
“I’ll see you soon,” she reminds them, the two nod.
They were escorted by an attendant of the house and didn’t see Clotted the rest of the day.
X
Unlike his previous visit, the consul was a rare sight.
It might be because he’s frequently visiting the institute, and Wildberry is urging him to go outside and be tourists this time around. They find themselves hanging out with Financier more than they do their host, it’s odd, but at least he has more time to think about what he feels about his title.
He finds himself asking Financier while Wildberry stayed in his bed for once, though he lets his wolf stay with the knight in case anything happens. Or really, if he gets lonely.
“Do you call him consul out of respect or formality?”
Financier was visiting the Paladin Academy as a guest teacher, taking a break at the cafeteria when Chip approached her. She looked surprised to see him but didn’t seem to mind, it’s not every day that someone she can call a friend visits her.
“I think both can be true.”
“Have you… ever called him by name?”
“Hmm, once.”
“Why did you stop?”
Financier just laughs, “it’s awkward.”
Was that it? Could Clotted just be awkward about it like Financier is? It’s not like Chip finds it awkward to call the consul by his name…
Wait.
Has he ever called Clotted by his name?
“Do you think he only calls me commander because it’s awkward?”
“Is that what this is about?” she teased, amused.
“It’s giving me a headache.”
He’s surprised how easy this conversation is going. They rarely talk at all, but Financier seems observant of everything enough to get the gist of things and assumes correctly what the commander is thinking. Either that, or he’s just very easy to read.
“Did he say anything?”
“Out of respect.”
Financier hummed, “he tells me that too.”
“About you?”
“About you.” She corrects, and Chip is a bit stunned by it, “he talks about you a lot, so I think that respect part is genuine.”
He panics, “What does he say?”
Financier pauses, as if caught doing something she shouldn’t. “…It’s positive, if you’re worried.”
“Vague.”
“Sorry,”
The academy’s bells ring and Financier gets up to demonstrate for another class, very lucky on the timing.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,”
X
It’s the next day and Wildberry joins the two on the title discussion now, sitting in a café near the Academy instead of crashing into it to avoid any unwanted attention. Mainly ones might be caused by the knight.
“I didn’t expect Clotted to be the awkward type.”
“It’s more that he’s… unfamiliar with making friends his age.”
“Are you his first friend?” Chip teases, but his smile dropped when Financier just sighed.
“But then,” Wildberry speaks again after sipping his latte, “it wouldn’t explain why he calls me by my name.”
“Maybe because you don’t have a title he can use?”
“Knight is a title.” He pouts a bit, perhaps feeling like Clotted doesn’t respect him enough to use it.
“Do you use it?” Chip tries instead.
“No… but it’d be nice if it’s used sometimes.”
That’s what Chip thought too, it’d be nice, but again, he’s not sure how to feel if it’s only used by one person. Clotted had called him commander so much the last time he visited, he can only imagine the consul saying it. He can’t even hear it in his voice, it’s concerning.
“Maybe he just doesn’t like your name.” Financier teases.
“Sorry for having a short and sweet name, then.”
“Just like your height.”
“HEY!”
Their conversation continued, but not really anything relating to Clotted’s weird relationship with Chip’s title. It seems like the longer they talk, the more they realize it’s much easier to just ask the consul (which Chip already had), maybe he’ll give them a more honest answer if they spend more time in a less formal environment. The problem is, they haven’t seen the consul that much.
He'd asked Financier, but she said she hasn’t seen him often either. Even now, their meeting at the café was usually the time she’d have tea with the consul. She says it’s not something to worry about, but her face looked nervous, maybe she’s planning on finding him later.
The two said their farewells and went back to their accommodation, talking a bit where Clotted could possibly be before generally talking about what souvenir they should bring back home this time now that they’re more familiar with the place.
Chip comes back with his wolf tackling him, either missing him or bored out of its mind and asking to play.
“Should we play in the garden?” Wildberry suggested, it’s still long before dinner and they can use a breather.
“Sure.”
And seemingly, as if it understood, the wolf quickly ran towards the garden’s direction. They’ve played there before, but after spending the whole afternoon talking about the consul, a part of Chip hopes he can meet Clotted there. It’s their most frequent meeting place the last time he was here, so maybe there’s a chance.
They played. They had dinner. They talked until Wildberry went to sleep.
He looks over the garden through his window, it’s empty, and he wonders if he should stay up late to just catch a glimpse of the consul.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but it was long enough that his wolf pulled at his clothes, urging him to sleep.
Maybe another time.
X
The research was ending. After weeks of testing the three’s combat prowess and their durability, it’s safe to say it was a success.
Well, at least, for two of them.
It’s as if His Majesty’s decision haunts him to this day, but his Magic Candy barely reacted to him at all. It was good data for the researchers to consider, but the disappointment he feels is…
At least Clotted was here for once, seeing the experiment through but didn’t seem all that surprised when a third of it failed. Maybe that’s why he’s been avoiding the commander all this time, maybe after that initial test it was obvious that he’d fail but held out hope. Who knows, maybe it was an elaborate prank.
He’s been staring at the consul the entire time they’re there, hoping to receive some sort of answer or apology, the other man far too busy with the researchers reporting to him.
“You can’t read his mind like that.” Financier intervenes, and Chip jolts.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, Wildberry’s, and turns to see the knight giving him a visible look of concern. A rarity.
“…I’ll talk to him.”
Financier nods.
“I’ll make sure he gives you the time of day.”
X
It took way too long, but it seems like Chip will finally have the chance to talk with the consul properly.
Clotted has been overtly tired, whether it’s his mannerisms or just physically. Financier points out that he’s always the type to hide these things, which means that what’s upsetting the commander, is also upsetting him too, maybe even for worse.
He’s sitting in the garden again, his wolf and Wildberry watching from a window to give them some sort of privacy but was told to leave if the knight ever feels too tired to stay awake. The promised time was pretty late anyway, and the consul is behind schedule, which seems to be a theme with him since they arrived here.
Chip perked up in his seat, the stone bench they sat on before, when he saw the consul’s figure walk in. The pale moonlight subduing the white and gold of his outfit, the commander’s face falling when he sees a weary face, instead of the consul’s usual (artificially) friendly one.
“I’m sorry, commander.” the consul said clearly.
He sounds genuine saying it, but there’s an unspoken dread in his expression Chip can’t describe before he sees the consul nod his head and attempt to leave.
“Wait,”
“I can’t let you leave empty handed again.”
“That’s not…!” he stands, but the consul glares at him, as if offended.
He could assume Clotted had been doing a lot of things (maybe too much) for this research, the visible eyebags certainly show it. There’s a pregnant pause before the consul seemingly realizes what expression he had and turning away again, though not immediately leaving.
“…That’s not what I wanted to ask.” He clarifies.
Clotted turns to fully look at him now, seemingly stunned, his expression felt bare. It’s weird to say he looks younger like that, despite the obvious wear.
“What is there to ask, commander?”
“That.”
The consul’s face is now visibly confused, Chip stops himself from calling it cute, but it’s nice that he can actually read Clotted’s expressions for once.
“The ‘commander’ thing.”
“I’ve already told you.”
“Yeah, but, you’re the only one who calls me that.”
“That’s a horrible thing,” he says, genuinely, as if baffled that no one had the courtesy to give Chip the bare minimum. The commander seems more confused than when he started.
“Financier said it’s because you’re awkward.”
Clotted closed his lips as if embarrassed, eyes darting around and hands fiddling between themselves. Before he could say anything, Chip spoke again.
“Wildberry thinks it’s out of spite.” He braves a step, “are you lying?”
The consul breathes, eyes closed before he sighs. There seems to be a lot in his head.
“May I sit down?” he asks, but didn’t wait for an answer.
He sits on the stone bench, posture still prim despite his tired face, hands clasping each other as if nervous. He looks up at the commander apologetically, “it might be a long explanation.”
“That’s fine.”
“And not make sense,”
“When has anything you do make sense to me.”
Chip teased, but didn’t mean anything malicious of once, settling down to sit down as well. The gap between them is only slightly less than the last time they sat there, hopefully the consul takes it as a sign.
“…Do you really hate your title?”
“No, His Majesty gave it to me. I would never.”
Clotted hummed, “What you said, or really, what Financier and Wildberry said, I think they can all be true.”
“Yeesh,” he jests, and he can see the consul smile at his own absurdity.
“I do not have many friends my age,”
“She mentioned that.”
“Oh? Did she say anything else?”
“You talk a lot about me, positive things.”
“As for spite!” Clotted immediately changed the subject, clapping his hands and startling a bit.
Chip can’t ignore how his cheeks pink a bit.
“I think it’s not hard to miss, but a lot of my acquaintances aren’t… fond of you.”
“Hmm, not that I care.”
“I do.” He said without thinking, eyes once again darting rapidly once he realizes how he sounds, “A-and if they want to work with me, they have to at least respect my… friends as well.”
Friends huh? It’s a bit too familiar for Chip’s taste, but he understands the need to separate coworkers from each other.
“Is there like… a goal with all this?”
Clotted briefly glanced at him before staring back to his own hands. Breath nervous, lips shaking, and face slightly more red.
“I’m not sure, I just want you to…” a pause, “tolerate me, I suppose.”
Oh.
‘Tolerate’ wasn’t the word he wanted to use; Chip could guess that much. He doesn’t want to answer his own question, he feels like he doesn’t have time to process that yet. Maybe another time.
“I tolerate you enough.” His tone suggests he’s joking to lighten the mood; the consul appreciates it.
“Then I can continue calling you ‘commander’?”
Chip nods, “I don’t mind if it’s you.”
Clotted laughs.
He looked up at the window Wildberry was watching him at, but didn’t see either him or his wolf, seems like they’re completely alone now. He’s happy the conversation didn’t escalate into anything unfavorable; it feels more like untangling a misunderstanding between… friends, he guesses.
“Can you tell me what you actually do for the research then?”
The consul laughs again, though yawns after, “Of course, commander.”
He talks about how he had to consult Espresso Cookie’s notes about the Magic Candies, basically learning things from scratch and frequently exchanging notes with the scientist when taking on this research. His knowledge isn’t perfect, he notes, that’s why he hired so many researchers to help him with this project.
It takes a lot to run these types of research, Clotted learns, he’s only ever on the side of approving and funding them. Whether it be scheduling their times at the lab, budgeting every step of the way without going over, unexpected risks that would happen. All the while he’s been advocating for more funds for their research, whether it benefits him or the Institute.
Clotted expresses his regret for not being able to give the commander a Magic Candy. The sample taken from the other two cookies seem to react relatively close to what he hypothesized, but Chip’s was the only one that’s different. He emphasized that he didn’t mean to keep this from the other man, there’s a lot of unknown variables in this still and was holding out for a last-minute breakthrough.
“Maybe my wolf’s sample got in there.” He jests, but the consul just stared at him like he just solved the mystery.
“Goodness… we might have to run tests again.”
“I don’t mind.”
“It might take me another year to schedule it.”
“Then invite me next year.”
“Hmm, will you bring Wildberry again?”
“No need, I already proved your good will.”
They stayed silent a little after that, though not uncomfortable.
Chip thinks about how Financier says Clotted is the type to go out of his way to hide things from people, he’s genuinely surprised at the lengths of it. He’s not sure how to feel, even more so that all of this is just so he would ‘tolerate’ the consul. He knows he just said nothing Clotted does makes sense to him, but even this seems convoluted. He can see why Financier calls him awkward.
Clotted’s yawn breaks the silence again.
“You should rest, we’ll still be here for another few days.”
“I’m sorry for not being a good host.”
“It’s fine now, you apologized already.”
“…Thank you, for understanding.”
Chip hummed and noticed Clotted increasingly getting drowsy, so much so that he feels the need to tap him on the shoulder. The consul jolts awake and apologizes before excusing himself for real this time, once again his face pink.
“Goodnight, commander.”
X
The consul took the next day completely off, it seemed that all that stress had caught up to him and he’s now stuck in his room with a slight fever. “Please go on your day without me.” He said to his guests, which the two had been doing anyway, but they shrug it off and wish him well.
Although the research had wrapped up, Financier didn’t mind inviting them for lunch again. In a different café this time, one with a smaller variety of tea, but better food.
“I think Clotted likes me.”
He said, bluntly, his face resigned as if this fact had been eating at him since last night.
“Oh, thank the Light.”
“What.”
“I thought I had to tell you one day, I’m glad you noticed it yourself.”
“Wait, wait— What do you mean? Wildberry, was it obvious?”
“I don’t think so.” He said, relieving Chip, at least he’s not that dense, right?
“But like, why? Since when?”
“Don’t ask me, I don’t like men.”
Financier sips her coffee and looks over at Wildberry, as if waiting for him to answer for her.
“I do like men with animal companions.”
“What the hell does that mean?!” contrary to his words, he’s flattered.
“He just started talking about you a lot one day,” she explains.
“…How long was that?”
Financier paused, “when did we met?”
Chip just stares at her, stunned, a bit angry that he hadn’t realized it all this time. A part of him justifies it by saying that they rarely ever meet, so it’s already odd on Clotted’s part to see him in that way.
“Like two years?” Wildberry answers.
“No, I know that.” Chip sighed, “it didn’t stand out for me.”
“Kind of his point,” she explains again, “he didn’t want you to know, considering your relationship with… each other.” She gestures to the two in front of her.
“Huh?” the men said in unison.
“Like with me and Wildberry?”
“Hm, I guess that’s why Queen Mother asks about you a lot.”
“So, you’re not?”
“I rarely have friends,” Wildberry confesses, “I like things to stay that way.”
“And you?”
Chip is too embarrassed to say anything, throwing his face to hide a blush.
“Thank you.” The knight says plainly, which only makes it more embarrassing.
“Shut it!”
They all sat there and ate their food in silence, a bit out of awkwardness, but considering how much they’ve hung out now, it’s comfortable still. This isn’t really a conversation you’d have with friends, even ones you’ve known better, but Chip is at least glad he can see himself still spending time with them after all this. No matter how cumbersome.
“How do you feel about the consul?” Financier finally says, “him liking you?”
“It explains a lot, I guess.”
“Do you like him back?” Wildberry asks plainly, though the answer is much harder to say.
“I don’t dislike him,”
“He’d be surprised to hear that.” Financier jests, but he understands where she comes from.
“Can you blame me? You knew he wasn’t right in the head during the Soul Jam thing.”
“He wasn’t,” she agrees, “but I don’t think I need to convince you that he’s changed.”
“He certainly tries,” Wildberry says, not realizing how mean it can come off. Chip instinctively laughs, and Financier just fondly rolls her eyes.
“What did he say anyway? That makes you think he likes you?” the knight now asks, curious.
“Eh, less said but more acted.”
“Wow, he must be tired if you were able to read him.”
Chip raised his eyebrow, offended that she would imply his density, but didn’t say anything. “He practically fell asleep by the end of it.”
“Wow, really tired then.” She said, genuinely surprised, edging on concern.
“He says he’d be fine tomorrow,”
“He means acts fine tomorrow.” She sighed, “why did he say that?”
Wildberry turns to look at Chip, who’s a bit startled that the knight is partially putting the blame on him.
“…I asked him for tea.”
“Of course he’d say yes to you.”
“Don’t,” …make it weird, he wants to say but stopped himself. He’s not sure why.
“I’m guessing we’re having teatime tomorrow then?”
The two men look at each other, confused at the use of ‘we’ in her sentence.
“If you want.”
“Good, the tea sucks here.”
“Oh, that’s why you ordered coffee.”
X
They had teatime, Financier explaining that she does this often whenever they’re free. And, as their two guests know, their schedules haven’t been the best lately. It sounds like she’s teasing them again, blaming them for depriving her from the consul’s signature teas and baked goods, but Clotted gently scolds her to be nicer. She doesn’t take it seriously.
Clotted didn’t talk much that afternoon, mostly an initiative from the three of them, noticing how still tired he is.
Wildberry, who’s not one for talking, even in his letters for Chip, talks about how he has his own little corner in the royal garden that he takes care of, and how the commander helps him with what to do to take care of it.
“That’s lovely,” Clotted said absentmindedly.
It’s sweet but the knight can’t help but feel awkward about it, considering how he knows how the consul feels about Chip now.
“He can help with your garden, too.”
“Nonsense, I could never—”
“I don’t mind.” Chip interrupts.
The consul stayed silent, but Chip continued the conversation for Wildberry’s sake.
He talks about how there’s some lovely flowers he’d like to take home, specifically ones his wolf seems very fond of, who knows, it might be therapeutic for them, and he’d like to share them with the ones at home.
Financier adds how those flowers are used as tea sometimes, and that got the conversation going much further. Talking about the types of tea they usually drink in their respective kingdoms.
Wildberry lamented about how teas are rare because his people prefer juice while Chip’s people prefer herbal tea, which is known to be extremely bitter.
She asked, “More bitter than the one we had at the institute?” face scrunching, expressing her disgust.
“Much more bitter,” Wildberry answers instead, “I don’t think sugar could save it.”
“Because you’re not supposed to drink it with sugar.” He scolds, “You had a cough and wanted sugar?”
Wildberry leans away, as if embarrassed.
“Can you send some for the consul?”
“Financier, I’m fine—”
“Sure,” he cuts off again, he will make the consul be comfortable interacting with him. “You can give me your diagnosis, or do you want something for sleeping?”
“…The sleeping one would be helpful.”
“Great, I’ll send you once I come back.”
X
A few days pass, it was time for the two guests to return to their own kingdoms.
As opposed to Wildberry who’s coming home with a Magic Candy, Chip is coming home with flower seeds instead, the consul even lent him an encyclopedia for different flowers from the republic.
Clotted expresses his regret again for not giving the commander a proper gift to bring home despite his second visit.
“It’s fine, you got next year to redeem yourself.” He jokes.
“I hadn’t realized you’ve made your own arrangements.” Financier teased, more specifically at the consul.
Clotted blushed, but didn’t seem to try hiding it for once.
“…I will see you next year then.”
Chip nods, at least he’s coming out of his shell a bit.
“I’ll write to you about the flowers. And the tea.”
“Thank you.” And he seems to really contemplate saying his next words, “I look forward to it, commander.”