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“Must you leave, Solidarity?”
“Aye. I made a promise to my fellows,” He rumbled; “But I know I trained you all well enough to uphold your duty in my absence. I will be back ‘ere long.”
Admittedly, Solidarity felt a little stretched thin — but he knew it was partially his fault to begin with.
When he was placed on Earthbread, he cultivated his values among ordinary Cookies before his own ilk. This, to some extent, was a good thing; to ordinary Cookies, he was the one Virtue who seemed down-to-Earthbread, grounded in reality. There were no ivory towers or palaces or sanctuaries for his own worship; nay, Solidarity found his peace in treading his lands, patrolling the borders of his friends.
… Ah, but his friends. Yes, they, he had neglected.
How could he say he upheld the value of Solidarity if he left his friends to struggle alone? It had taken much for them to lower their pride and admit to suffering under the weight of their Virtues.
… The Dream had sped things along. Admittedly, the image of Knowledge — or, a Cookie that looked like Knowledge, anyway — impaled on his blade with an expression of utter anguish and betrayal still haunted his nightmares.
Never, he resolved; never could that Dream come to pass. They had to nip this in the bud — for Cookiekind, yes, but also themselves.
Salt plains transitioned into milky pines, and Nox knickered as the ground underfoot softened, picking up his pace. Solidarity stroked the steed’s neck, keenly aware of his surroundings.
… The forest was quieter than usual. Usually birds flitted between the trees, chattering nonstop — singing nature’s secrets for those with the ears to hear them. But today, silence heralded his approach upon the Spire of All Knowledge.
It, too, seemed… Dim. The gentle glow and hum of Knowledge’s power was absent. Solidarity frowned beneath his helm, observing the courtyard carefully.
There were signs of life, of a crowd having been there that morning. Footprints in the mud surrounding the Dairy Fountain at the foot of the Spire.
He looked closer, noticing an off colour about the soil — though only at the base of the white stairs did the realization of what he saw truly hit him.
Jam. Not just any jam, no — blueberry jam, the very same the Fount bled. Solidarity had only witnessed it once in a papercut Knowledge quickly nursed, laughing off his silly slip-up with ease.
The jam on the stairs, however, trailed up to the doors - and seemed to continue beyond. It wasn’t healthy, couldn’t be healthy; it was far too much to be something small, and easily shrugged off.
Something happened.
Quickly, Solidarity hopped off his horse and strode into the Spire — skipping the ritual of knocking upon her door in favour of bursting in. His ally’s wellbeing came before any ceremony.
“Fount of Knowledge,” He called, “Where are you?”
Silence responded. Solidarity hissed, looking down at the trail of blue jam. He hated navigating the Spire even with Knowledge’s help, finding the halls confusing and ever-changing — but duty outweighed dislike, and he steeled himself before following the trail.
Fortunately, Knowledge hadn’t gone too far from the front door - only two halls down, the Virtue heaved into a basin, shaking hands drawing a glowing string through his neck.
Solidarity felt his jam run cold.
“Fount of Knowledge…”
“I - I’ll be with you in — hrk, a moment…”
The normally bright and joyful tone Knowledge spoke in was absent, replaced with a strained rasp and soft gurgle. It made nausea churn in the knight’s stomach, and he growled lowly, striding forward to get a better view.
Knowledge’s eyes caught his shape in the mirror, and he cringed, unable to even muster a smile.
“… My friend. Forgive my lack of hospitality —”
“Hospitality be damned, Knowledge, you’re hemmorhaging. You need medical attention.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad. Nothing a few stitches can’t fix, no?”
A spurt of jam accompanied his attempt at a chuckle, and Solidarity shook his head, putting a hand on the one of Knowledge’s occupied with sewing.
“This is beyond your skill to heal. We should turn to Volition. She has remedies aplenty, and can at least prevent infection and wasting.”
Knowledge frowned, but seemed to lack the energy to object, giving a little nod of concession. He directed Solidarity to find a towel, wrapping it around his neck to at least stem the bleeding, and he followed the knight outside, sealing the Spire in his absence.
Solidarity helped him mount Nox, allowing him the front of the saddle while he took up the rear to steer, setting off at a brisk gallop.
. . .
“It is good that you came,” Volition murmured, hands hovering as she channelled a weak healing spell over the wound now coated with medicinal salve; “The wound might have rotted, and festered, and severed your head forever if you left it.”
“He was planning to leave it,” Solidarity grumbled.
Knowledge shot him a glare, unable to defend himself under Volition’s strict orders to rest his voice until she was finished. Her lips twitched, but she didn’t allow the smile to blossom, instead collecting a bandage and carefully wrapping the Fount’s neck with it, ensuring his head would remain securely connected to his body.
They stood in one of the nursing chambers of her pagoda — a nice, private room, guarded by her most trusted Haetae, to protect Knowledge’s weakness from prying eyes — something Solidarity was sure he was grateful for.
“… There. Now, tell us, Knowledge, what has transpired to lead to this damage to your sacred dough.”
The Fount grumbled — mostly to test how much speaking hurt — and eased when his throat felt numb. His voice still rasped, however, as he managed to speak.
“I awoke this morning at my desk, as usual, to the most raucous banging at my door — which was, contrarily, quite unusual. I thought, at first, there might have been an emergency, and hastened to open it for the Cookies. Nearly everyone who lives under my purview was there, if you can believe it, hah!”
Solidarity and Volition exchanged an uneasy glance at Knowledge’s cheerful tone. The Fount, however, faltered, unable to keep his spirits high as he continued to recount his morning.
“They were, hah, saying the damndest things — accusing me of lying, can you believe it? I — I mean, maybe I did, here and there — b-but only for their protection, for their happiness! Is… That so bad?”
He chuckled weakly, rubbing a cheek as he looked down.
“A-anyway, I — they were so handsy, haha, and brought me out to the courtyard — they’re so resourceful, they managed to jerryrig a dough slicer on their own while I slept!”
Unease turned to horror, Volition putting a hand to her mouth as her eyes opened wide, staring openly at Knowledge.
“Knowledge…”
“Oh, don’t look at me like that! It’s just a little scratch —”
“They separated your head from your body,” Solidarity breathed, his voice carefully numb; “Do not downplay this travesty, Knowledge.”
“I… Well.”
Knowledge giggled weakly, a pale, milky shimmer dancing on his lower lids as he shook his head lightly — stopping only when Volition gestured for him to keep it still.
“I’m… Sure I deserved it, giving out bad advice like I did. Lesson learned! Only… Only the truth, from now on, even if… It solves little, for anyone…”
He trailed off — then hissed as a tear spilled over. It landed on the floor and instantly bloomed into a milkcrown, and he moved to kill the flower, only to be stopped — again — by Volition’s gentle hand, pushing him back down onto the bed.
“Leave it. The flower isn’t hurting anyone by being there.”
“Mnh… Well. Thank you for your help, both of you. I should —”
“You will stay here,” The pale Virtue frowned, a hand pressed to his shoulder; “You’re in absolutely no condition to wander anywhere. Spend a few days where I can see you, to make sure you’re healing. Then return to your Spire.”
“But my duties —”
“Can wait.”
He flopped back against the bed with a huff of defeat, wiping his eyes like a petulant child.
“… I’ll be bored to death.”
“Do not forget the Dream, friend,” Solidarity chuffed; “Allow her to care for you. To isolate would only drive us apart; that future we saw cannot come to pass.”
Knowledge absolutely scowled at that — then groaned, his brows knit together in frustration as he threw his hands up.
“Fine! For sweetness’ sake, just stop fussing. I’ll stay for a few days. But I don’t want to hear any whining when I start rambling your ears off, Volition.”
“I’ve survived chatty followers before. I’m sure I can manage you.”
Solidarity rose up, dipping his head towards Volition and Knowledge both.
“If all’s well here,” The knight rumbled, “I would see myself out to check on Change and Happiness. If they are well, they should be informed of what has transpired today.”
“All is well. Ride safe, Solidarity.”
Volition nodded him off, and Solidarity turned —
“Salt.”
He paused at Knowledge’s call, glancing over his shoulder. The Fount looked weary and resigned — something unsaid dancing on the tip of his tongue and behind his eyes. Whatever it was, he swallowed it, offering instead something more simple.
“… Thank you.”
“Of course, Milk. Rest. We will reunite anon.”
With no further words to say, the knight departed — haunted by the horror of what happened.
For ordinary, everyday Cookies to group together like that… To attempt to kill a Virtue for petty revenge… This was not the world they were meant to be building, cultivating, and protecting.
The fear that their Dream may be inevitable loomed in the back of his mind, breathing down his neck like a spectre. Could this have been caught, or prevented? He was doing all he possibly could, spreading himself far too thin… What if this same fate befell the others? What if his own knights turned on him?
… No. He shook his head as he mounted Nox at the foot of Volition’s mountain abode; doubt would not save them. He couldn’t waver, couldn’t falter. Of all of them, he had to be strong, be steady.
The glue that held them together could not break, lest they all fall to an inevitable ruin.