Chapter Text
What can one do when his house isn't as recognized as many others? House Oyster's sphere of influence is within maritime trades. Their known for their riches, being the "original" cookies on the now-known republic, and for many things. House Vanilla Sugar's sphere of influence is within education for the betterment of the republic. House Mulled Juice is involved with transportation, House Baumkucken is involved with the republic's medicine and health. House Millie—Feuille built up the cathedrals, House Canelé supported funds for the Senate, House Sablé is a patron for arts, and House Caviar's achievement is within wars and defending. All seemed dandy to Srimp Cookie, at least that's what he thought.
Yet, House Custard's sphere of influence is within politics, as much as that bores him to crumbling, but he can't help but to feel this weird feeling inside of his dough whenever he see a certain cookie from that house. Not because he's bad or evil, the opposite, really. Everyone appraised him. Everyone wants to be like him. Everyone wants everyone to be like him, even if they can't. Even if they're from a hardly recognized House as well.
House Shrimp's former sphere of influence was within the health of those in the Republic before being handed off to House Baumkucken without say. House Shrimp fell. It was soon forgotten as a true house. Yet, that doesn't stop many cookies who passed by the forgotten manor to talk to one another about the accomplishments Clotted Cream Cookie has done.
"I heard he's been chosen specifically by the Divine, and they speak to him directly." One cookie whispered to the other. "I heard he wants to create an alliance with the Pure Vanilla Kingdom. How thoughtful is he?" Whispered another.
It was always about Clotted Cream Cookie. Even Grand Shrimp Cookie, mother of Shimp Cookie, has compared the young boy to the Consul whenever. "You should be more like him." "I'm sure the Consul wouldn't slip in grades like you have been." "The Consul wouldn't stay silent and closed off like you have been doing."
Each and every day, it was getting tiresome. Shrimp cookie was growing fed up, and the comparison began to make him green with envy. He wanted to be like the Consul: flawless, perfect, important. He wanted others to comment on him, wanted the appraise of a mother too, wanted to be known as someone who could make a change. And that became his life's mission— to become better than Clotted Cream Cookie, or surpass the other in helping the cookies of the Cremé Republic.
It took weeks of preparation. Sneaking into libraries pass hours, staying up nights doing as much research as he could, saving up every coin he can get from anywhere. It all ties down to this very moment, a moment he didn't care to think of the flaws and ignore the dire warnings in books of not doing what he's doing. No, none of that mattered, it all felt like an obstacle he needed to shove through.
A warm, sunny day arrived. He snuck out of the manor before his mother could question anything. The sun casts against his light-coral hair that was held down in a long braid. The blue overall he wore making him feel more secure that simple shorts or pants would never do. He had a bag of coins in hand, scurrying down towards the market. He had found a way to purchase something through sending a letter to a guild, just needing to pay in person to receive his goods.
Before long, he arrived into the semi-crowded area. Busy wirh life, cookies buying and offering, the usual. Yet, he wasn't here for that as his dark emerald green eyes scan around the area. He needed to find a particular cookie, a specific guildmaster. Before long, he spots her— Guildmaster Jagae Cookie, standing around with a special little box in a hand, and Shrimp Cookie's letter in the other. He took a deep breath and walked up to her, standing at a reasonable distance to look before her.
"Hey kid, you're the one who ordered this and asked me to specially hand it to you?" Jagae Cookie asked, having referred to the letter she was sent. Shrimp Cookie nodded, giving a polite smile that he has always practiced in his room. "Yes. My mother is ill, and the flower has been brought before here to treat her." Shrimp Cookie said, sounding as sincere as a child worried for an ill mother, going to great lengths for a remedy. Even if all of his words were practiced lies. Jagae Cookie seemed skeptical, her eyes searching his as if she was trying to see if he had any alternate motive, as this flower was never supposed to be brought into these warmer climates.
"You sure you're not lying, kid?" She asked firmly, which nearly made Shrimp Cookie panic if he hasn't planned for this. "No, I would never lie on behalf of my mother's condition, she specifically asked me to order it as she wants to do an old-school remedy. She doesn't favor the more advancement of medicine." He calmly said, making sure to add a hint of concern in his tone. Jagae Cookie seemed hesitant, but she had other places to be for more cargo she had on her ship. She folded the letter up and slipped it into her the pocket of her skirt, then extended her hand out reluctantly, which Shrimp Cookie took as a glint of hope for him. He took the pouch of coins out from his overall pocket, placing it onto the other's hands before being given the box.
"Be careful now, kid." Jagae Cookie warned. "I don't want to see you tied up in some mess, I'm trusting you.
But, Shrimp Cookie wasn't playing mind to her warnings, simply nodding and giving her a quick thank you, before running off. Jagae Cookie sighed to herself, pulling the letter back out of her pocket and skimming over it. "I hope he knows what he's doing." She muttered to herself, folding it up and walking off. The sun was still up, she needed to get work done.
Shrimp Cookie was running back to the manor, happy as a jellyworm getting a treat with the box in his hands. Yet, he wasn't careful, tripping over his own feet and hitting the ground. The box opened up, a potted flower fell out and the pot broke. The flower was bell-shaped in a periwinkle-purple color, the insides yellow with periwinkle stems. The flower had a strange apperance, as if the sides were cut off to reveal the insides, but that's how the flower always grew with its cyan-green leaves. Shrimp Cookie panicked, quickly pushing the pain in his knees aside and scrambling to put the flower back in the box with the dirt, feeling humiliated as cookies pass by and took a glance at the mess he has made. After all, Fountain Piazza is usually more crowded when the weather was this warm, and the clear water of the fountain glistened in the sunlight.
Shrimp Cookie eventually picked up as much as he could, cleaned up as much dirt off the pavement as he could. He fixed the box, closed it up and scurried off. Yet, the pollen was in the air, the properties of the flower had already changed without a sign. Passersby from moments ago had accidentally breathed in the pollen, and the destruction that Shrimp Cookie refused to acknowledge would happen. Pride over caution, a need to prove he can be like the Consul by caring for such a flower, and never once cared to acknowledge why the Two-Pettie Flower should only be grown up north.