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The bizarre entourage steadily milled through the landscape of the Dreamlands, the King’s dancers leading the hapless Englishman and his latest eldritch passenger towards the encroaching city.
It was a quiet, uneventful journey - the dancers knew the way like they'd studied every pebble, any dangers easily avoided. Lilith had almost fallen asleep a few times, but without warning, she suddenly called to Arthur to stop.
“What is it?”
<<The dancers, they've stopped walking. They're looking at something ahead of us. I can't see it from here.>>
“Should I walk up to go see, or-”
<<Maybe? I'm not->>
One of the King's entourage called out, “Who are you to block our path?”
A voice that Arthur recognized spoke to the party, “If you think I’m blocking your way, then I worry about your ability to navigate this world.”
Arthur stepped to the front of the group, “Malam?”
<<It’s an older-looking man, dark complexion, though most of his features are covered by a cloak. He’s sitting in front of a small campfire, holding a… ceramic bowl with- I think it's food. He's looking at us now.>>
“I did not expect to meet you again, Arthur. And your owl friend.”
<<Owl? The fuck is he- ohhh.>>
Arthur squinted at Lilith’s words, “What?”
<<Mm, no. I just remembered - he's that weird guy from when I was tailing you in England. I was disguised as an owl, remember?>>
That satisfied Arthur's curiosity, “So what are you doing here, Malam?”
<<He’s shrugging, looking back at the fire. Now he's looking at the food in his bowl. There's a metal spoon, I didn't notice it before.>>
“Tell me, Arthur…”
“...What is it?”
<<Malam stood up from the fire. He's picked up a box that was beside him. It's made out of… cardboard, I think. He's holding it out to you.”
“...Are you able to see why children love Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”
<<What?>>
“I’m sorry? I- I'm not sure what-”
The older man sighs, handing the box of cereal over to Arthur. “Faroe has told me she can count to ten. But you've apparently eaten less than that in the entire time since your journey started with that book…”
Arthur let out a shuddering breath, unsure whether to question Malam about what the man knows or try to save face.
<<Huh. Now that I think about it->>
“I can assure you that I have definitely eaten more than that! I mean, Faust alone was several meals worth!”
The older man let out a confused, “Excuse me?”
Lilith scoffed, <<Talk about getting dark, Arthur.>>
Malam resumed tentatively, “...Your daughter is happy with how far you've come. But food is… important, and she wants you to eat proper meals.”
Using the one hand she had control over, Lilith flipped the box over to look at the nutritional information, <<Arthur, there's like 12 grams of sugar for every cup in this. There's no way in hell this can be considered a proper meal.>>
Arthur frowned at the revelation, “12 grams per serving!? Jesus Christ…”
“It's why kids love the stuff,” Malam said with a shrug.
One of the dancers awkwardly cleared their throat, “Um, the King is still expecting your arrival… and we aren't paid by the hour…”
Lilith sounded genuinely confused, <<Wait, the dancers get paid?>>
Another dancer yelled out in bewilderment, “Wait- you guys are getting paid!?”
<<Well, the dancers are now angrily yelling at each other- oh, Malam is turning to leave. He's.. tossed the entire bowl and spoon into the fire?>>
“...My work here is done. Good luck, Arthur. Good luck, owl.”
<<Tsk, that’s not even my name..>>
The bewildered Englishman turned back to Malam, “Hang on. Did you come all this way just for this?” Arthur shook the cereal box to emphasise his words.
“Last time I gave you knowledge. This time, I gave you an item.”
Arthur could only sigh tiredly. “S-sure…”
<<He’s walking away from the fire, ignoring the dancers still. He's walking up to- how did I fucking miss that…!? It's a motorbike, Arthur. Malam just took off on a fucking motorbike!>>
A quiet lingered in the air after the motorbike's departure. Only the sounds of the King's dancers talking about employment contracts and workers' rights could be partially heard.
Lilith suddenly spoke again, <<...Don’t even think about asking me what type of bike that was, Arthur. I don't know jackshit about cars.>>