Chapter Text
The first thing that Fount of Knowledge can recall in his memories is his bakeday.
He was not told what his purpose was. He simply knew, for he was created with the concept of serving those who had been baked with the same devotion that the one he would think of as a mother had.
He had been born into world with hope - trust for the future, confidence that the witches could leave the world behind in the hands of those who would serve him. The love he felt was no different than what she felt. There was so much adoration his creator felt for her small creations, but that was commonplace among the witches.
He adored her for it.
The Fount of Knowledge would not grow. He would not need to eat, nor sleep. He would not feel for others beyond any selfless means.
He would simply be.
He would live on as an emissary of those who would leave Earthbread behind; leaving it in the hands of the four other cookies who would help the world thrive and flourish.
His world, when he had been created, was full of great expectations. He had loved cookies so strongly that it had been overwhelming at times. But, those feelings were not his own. Even so, there was nothing that he would question. When one is born with the world's knowledge, there was nothing to be uncertain of.
But, the witches could not predict that a world that was ever changing meant that those who were supposed to stand still would change, as well. They were like the seasons, in a sense — no matter how much someone wished to see the world continue to thrive and grow, winter would come quickly, leaving life to sleep until the time for Spring would come again. That truth was as harsh as the snow that would blanket the world, bring a familiar silence to nature.
Before Fount knew it, he had changed.
It was not a dramatic shift; it was nothing that any cookie would have taken notice of, until after it had happened.
It was a quiet sort of change. It was something as innocent as two children telling secrets between one another, as natural-feeling as the first snowfall of the year.
He fell in love.
It was nothing he would dare speak of to anyone. Cookiekind would not forgive him for daring to stray from his duties. Selfishly, he wanted to keep his feelings to himself — to hold onto the fact that he had felt happiness for the first time in his rather lengthy lifetime.
But, what happened to the Fount of Knowledge after felt like a whirlwind. It wasn't just his feelings that had changed. The demands of those he served had only grown more intense, their questions only becoming more tedious. No matter how much he had tried to satisfy their curiosities, it hadn't been enough. No truth that he offered to them would satisfy them.
It was almost as though they would have preferred to simply hear the answer they wished for instead of the truth.
Tensions did not build over time. What happened on the destined evening of his death was not something that happened not with a bang, but a quiet whimper. The cookies that now stood outside of the Spire of All Knowledge, demanding that the Fount of Knowledge show himself. They had not entered the Spire yet, but it was only a matter of time until they would storm his halls. After all, there were no doors. They were not permitted within the spire to ensure that cookies had access to the building at any time.
For now, Fount walks across one of the many rooms. His footsteps are silent, save for the sound of his staff gently hitting sugar-marbled flooring. He only stops for a moment, golden and blue-colored eyes gazing at the statue of his witch. Milkcrowns had sprouted and bloomed at the bottom of the statue. Despite the fact that light did not reach this area of the Spire, they seemed to have little problem thriving.
They lingered within the Spire, fated to last as a reminder of the hurt that Fount felt.
For, the one that he longed to see — the loneliness and emptiness that he had felt with her ongoing absence was not one that could be filled by anyone. Love was so many things - it was unwavering, everlasting. And yet, it could morph and change into bitterness and resentment despite the fact that it could be forever.
What would she tell him to do, if he were to see he again? Would she guide him? Encourage him? Would she tell him to hold on? That his love for cookiekind could overcome these trials?
Would he acknowledge his existence again? To know how tirelessly he had worked to fulfill his purpose?
However, even as he heard the yells outside, the demands that were spreading faster than wildfire — he wanted to cling to his duty that he had been given.
But, he already knew.
He would not survive the night.
He remembers when he had changed. If his heart back then had been made of frost, then those years had been similar to that of a sunrise - the warmth melting away at that ice until it could be chipped away by a most wonderful and awful feeling.
He should have known better.
He was never meant to feel.
If anything in the Fount of Knowledge's life was ironic, it was his fate.
He remembers when things began to change. It was supposed to be business as usual. He had left the spire early in the morning, when life had barely began to stir.
The journey to the River of the First Silver was not a quick one, but the Fount of Knowledge paid that no mind. The path to his destination offered a few, rare moments of short-lived peace before he encountered any cookies. There were none that did not recognize him at this point — after all, the emissaries of their Gods were worshiped almost as fervently as the witches themselves. Thus, when he was spotted by a cookie, any cookie, he would be stopped — every single time, without fail.
The questions he was often asked were never-ending when a cookie discovered his presence. One question lead to another, and then another — some seemingly more nonsensical than the last. However, Fount held onto hope that his work would one day bring his creator back — that the one he missed when one day return to him.
He just had to hold on. After all, who else could ease a feeling of emptiness than the one who understood him?
The village he was to travel with was one that felt especially rural compared to the other locations in Beast Yeast. It was a tiny seed that had not yet had a chance to bloom, so to speak. Compared to the lands that the Kala Namek knights ruled over, or the ongoing growth of Sugar Paradise, the Fount of Knowledge would have his work cut out for him.
He would teach them how to properly cultivate the land and survive — his ultimate goal being to help to aid them in their survival.
Or, that was his hope.
As grating as cookiekind could be in their ignorance, he enjoyed teaching. If he had fondness in anyone, it would be his students that often visited his tower in search for truly attempting to put his knowledge to use.
Sometimes, the days that passed felt almost robotic — repetitive to a fault. They would pass by quickly enough in what felt like routine — however, even routine can become exhaustive to those who would be revered to as a god. Perhaps the difference, the true uniqueness between the Fount and his fellow other emissaries—
They had found someone to rely on.
The Fount of Knowledge and the others were baked with the intention of working alone. Despite being created together, they were not meant to be with one another in one place; they were not meant to burden other cookies with their responsibilities. And even then, even the Herald of Change had found a cookie that wanted nothing more than to help him in overlooking the evolution of civilizations.
It was a thought that he often felt himself turn back to. However—
His fate was one that was not easily shared. Who was he, if not the holder of knowledge? How could any one cookie know what it was to aid him? Oh, but he did have an apprentice. He remembers the day he had met him. He was nothing but a cookie who had barely had the chance to live. Black Sapphire had been all wide eyes and mouth agape when he had first laid his eyes on the Fount, as though he could scarcely believe who had found him.
He had discreetly entered the Spire then, keeping himself hidden from the countless cookies who had taken residence to study in Fount's domain. And perhaps, if Fount was not all knowing, he could have gotten away with being an unwelcome guest. He was clever to an impressive degree. And, it was just as well — Fount did not need to speak with him to sense his affinity for magic.
Perhaps, it was the sympathy that Fount had taken upon him that persuaded him to come to the decision to take him in. After all, Black Sapphire had lost his parents some time ago. He had come to the spire simply seeking refuge from how merciless the lands could be when one is on their own.
Affection? He supposed he could call what he felt for Black Sapphire that much. But, feelings for the Fount did not come easily.
He was not baked for feelings beyond love, after all.
( Or perhaps, he told himself, he had some things to learn himself.
What a laughable thought. )
Spring time had greeted the lands for a month by the time he had decided to visit the village. What he had planned to leave with them would give the villagers ample time to prepare for when winter would inevitably come. Mentally, he had prepared himself for what was destined to be nonstop work with the cookies.
The village had existed for the last decade or so, but it was not word or rumor that had brought him there. The Fount of Knowledge had his ways to have his eyes all over Earthbread. He had observed the lands long enough to know when the time would be right for his arrival.
Settling between the the River of the First Silver and Ravenous Forest was as good of place as any for a civilization. They would have plenty of game to hunt, and the chocolate soil beneath their feet would prove to provide bountiful results — if they're able to take advantage of it properly, that is.
The sound of a yell cuts his thoughts off, Fount's attention quickly focusing on the source of the sudden noise. Brows furrow as he takes in the scene before him.
What's happening before him is tense, dangerous — and not the first time he had seen just things, but something was so very different from it, at the same time.
The first thing that catches his eye is the sight of a blonde standing firm, positioned as though he was ready to move as he holds his staff close to his body . There was a cake wolf that was only inches away from him. Fount could already tell, even at a distance — the both of them were ready to strike at any moment now.
But behind that small cookie was a small, cream sheep.
… Was this cookie, as easily crumbled as he was, protecting the sheep against the wolf of all things? Typically, a cookie would run from such dangers. After all, those who knew magic were so few and none until they were given a chance to properly learn. Did this small cookie intend to stop the wolf with brute force?
But, Fount hardly has time to take in the situation far more than those few thoughts and questions. It seems as though tensions had broken through for both the wolf and cookie then, the wolf preparing to throw itself at and attack the other. The Fount's next movements reflect instinct more than anything else. Before he realizes it, he raises his staff, pitch-black lightning unleashing from it with ease. He doesn't have to place too much focus into his magic for it to proof to be successful.
At the least, the force of the lightning-like magic isn't enough to kill the wolf. It's merely enough to knock it away, sending it flying and landing to the ground with a thud. It was a magic that could have crumbled any dessert creature with ease, but Fount was a merciful soul. He would not destroy the witch's creations for little reason.
But, just as well - he would not allow harm to come to to any cookie, either.
He watches with furrowed brows, lips pursed together into a tight frown as the wolf runs away, yelling in fear and panic as it escapes.
The blonde haired cookie then turns, mouth agape as he simply listens as the wolf leaves. It's moments before he relaxes, gently reaching to pet the cream sheep in reassurance that the danger had passed. The motions only linger for a few seconds before he turns to the source of the magic.
"Thank you." He bows his head in gratitude. "I don't know what you did, but I may have very well crumbled without your help."
The Fount steps forward then, only stopping when he can speak further with the now-safe cookie. He briefly takes note of the bandages neatly tied around his head, shielding his eyes, along with the rags that he seemed to have accepted as clothing.
A— blind cookie? That much would explain why he had failed to recognize him. Typically, cookies immediately greet him by his title without hesitation.
"It was magic." The Fount states matter-of-factly. "I don't blame you for not yet knowing. It's still new to cookiekind. What I did wasn't any problem. You're not hurt, are you?"
The Shepherd tilts his head then before shaking his head. "No, not at all! You came right on time, it seems! Ah, but…" His own brows furrow, wooden staff now placed flatly on the grass beneath his feet. "… You said magic is new, but is that so? I've had healing magic for some time."
"Have you?" Fount of Knowledge starts curiously, eyes widening subtly in surprise. "It's rare that cookies have a strong affinity for magic, especially healing — but, not impossible."
The Vanillite smiles then. "That's rather interesting! There are cookies who have been impressed by my abilities, but this is the first time I've met someone who seems to know a fair bit about it."
The Fount of Knowledge smiles, though it's almost uneven. — awkward. It's… strange speaking to another like this. It feels almost casual, and that in itself is a foreign thought to him.
The blue-doughed cookie's expression shifts to one that's more gentle before speaking once more.
"I suppose you can say that my job is to teach others. Perhaps one day, you'll find a cookie that's come to learn magic by my hand."
The healer shrinks back then, looking a little uncertain. His cream sheep walks behind him, gently nudging at his hand. "Ah, well… I don't know where you might have traveled from. I don't recognize your voice, nor the sound of your footsteps. However, this is a small village. It's rare that we find any new cookies that travel here."
"That may change." Fount answers quietly. "Have you heard word of help coming to this place?"
He shakes his head. "No, I'm afraid not. You see, it's been just myself and my sheep for some time. We live a little ways away from the village. But, it's the least I can do for them. They offer me friendship, and in exchange - I give them care in a place where they can freely roam."
Ah, that would explain the fact that they had run into one another some ways away from the village. It would also explain why he had ended up confronting the cake wolf as he was.
"You should take caution." The Fount says calmly. "Considering that this place is near a forest, there's bound to be more attacks from other creatures, and a healer rarely can use offensive magic."
The other cookie smiles brightly, flexing a little. He leans his staff against against his body as he feels his nonexistent muscles. "Please, you don't need to worry! I'm far more stronger than I look."
The Fount stops then, looking surprised at his words — and despite himself—
For the first time in his long, long life—
Laughter begins to leave him.
He holds a delicate hand over his mouth then, as thought to quiet the noise. It's soft, yet almost undignified in a sense. The sensation of it leaving him is a little strange — and dare he think it? — embarrassing.
But, then he sees the way that the other cookie stops, jam rushing to tan cheeks before he smiles in return.
"Healer Cookie." He introduces himself. "Even if it's short-lived, I'm glad we had the chance to meet."
The cream sheep bleats then, nudging at Healer's hand once more before he laughs.
"I think Sprinkle Cream is happy to meet you, too."
The Fount reaches then, gingerly extending a hand for the sheep to inspect if it wishes to do so. It's an almost gentle sort of greeting, keeping his distance away from the sheep unless they choose to approach him. He looks on with a neutral gaze as he watches the creature step forward, nuzzling against dough gently.
He looks to Healer then, taking him in. This was… a unique cookie, to say the least. The name felt more like a title more than an actual name. He's never met a cookie that was not named after their own ingredient — save for the first batch, that is. However, the existence of the first batch was so long ago. This cookie couldn't be older than the average cookie in their adult years as it was.
Though, the difference between him and others did not stop there. He was polite, soft spoken — and, there didn't seem to be a selfish crumb in his body. Even if they were only just meeting now, he could tell that much.
Such was the nature of healers, he found.
"Your sheep seems content enough." The Fount responds, straightening himself. "You've done well to take care of them. But, you shouldn't do this much at the cost of your own happiness."
Healer pauses for a moment. Somehow, he couldn't help but think that those words sounded more distant than his others. The smile that was once on his face begins to shift, and he wonders — did something he say strike a cord? Or, were his words simply something that felt familiar to him in a sense?
"Ah, well…" The Healer rubs the back of his head. "I'm content to take care of others. I can't help but feel as though that may have been why I was gifted with healing magic in the first place. But—" He shakes his head then, waving a hand almost in a dismissive way. "Enough about me! Won't you tell me your name?"
The Fount feels himself further straighten then, and he opens his mouth to speak - only to stop himself shortly after.
This was—
…. Only the second time he had to introduce himself to someone . When he had done so before, word of his gift had quickly traveled across Earthbread. He felt so fortunate to help cookiekind back then, and as much as he felt affection for them, he---
Couldn't help but feel as though his gift was sometimes a burden. And that in itself was a strange thought, and nothing he would ever dare to voice out loud.
But. this cookie had little idea of who he was. He had never had a chance to speak to someone so casually. He had never laughed like this before. It made his heart feel light.
For the most briefest of moments, he was not the Fount of Knowledge.
He was simply another part of cookiekind.
He never had any desire to keep a secret, not until now -- muchless, a secret of who he was.
Was it selfish? To wish to enjoy this anonymity even for a little while longer?
"I am merely someone here to help." It wasn't a lie, at least. "I've heard that this village has been struggling for some time. It's my desire to give aid so no cookie struggles, or goes hungry."
"Really?" Healer Cookie's mouth is agape for a moment. "That's good news! I have no doubt that everyone here will be grateful. There have been difficult times here. Times when there has not been enough food here. With the right lessons, I'm certain that they'll be able to rest far more easily."
The Fount's next words leave him before he realizes it. How strange. Suddenly, he was not an emissary. Suddenly, it was as though he was no different from his apprentice — young and innocent, hopeful, and strangely excited.
"That is my hope. Perhaps you could come into the village later today, as well?"
It's a gentle request, but not one without a subtle amount of the hope he felt.
Healer catches those emotions in his tone, and he smiles gently in return.
"Later today." He agrees. "I'll find you. I'm always happy to learn something new. I've no doubt that I'll remember your voice. And—" He tilts his head. "… I'd like to continue this conversation later, if you truly do not mind. It's been a long time since I've had the chance to meet someone new."
Later today.
How strange it was to think that he would meet a cookie that had no questions for him, had hope to see him beyond what Fount could do for him. To know that there may very well be a cookie who's interested to know him.
Indeed, it was queer.
His heart had never constricted with loneliness quite like this, yet swelled with happiness at the same time.
Despite the detour, Fount seems to arrive in the village in a timely manner. As he had come to expect, there's a cookie waiting at the entrance. He stops to speak with them, keeping a courteous distance from the cookie.
"Fount of Knowledge!"
The blue-doughed cookie schools his expression then, expression gentle and welcoming.
Strawberry Pie Cookie stands politely, waiting for the Fount to near him before he speaks once more.
"My Fount, we have been waiting for your arrival! Please, come this way!"
The Fount frowns thoughtfully then, following closely behind the cookie. He had expected that they would be all work when he had arrived, just as he expected the countless murmurs and looks of adoration and intimidation from the other villagers.
"And just where exactly are you leading me? The farmlands are some distance from this direction."
The villager turns, nearly bouncing on her heels.
"We've prepared proper accommodations for your stay! Only the best room for you at our best inn. I'm afraid it pales in contrast to your spire, but perhaps— you know a way to create something more welcoming?"
The Fount bites back a sigh then, and he's thankful that Strawberry Pie turns around once more as his grip on his key-like staff tightens. "Yes, of course."
And so, he begins to answer the cookie's question. Somehow, the words seem to leave him without realizing it, and he can't help but zone out then. It's as though he answers on instinct, and yet his mind is elsewhere.
He thinks back to only moment's ago, when he had exchanged his good byes to Healer Cookie. The conversation had only been brief, but he had felt the same way when his student's eyes light up when they understand his lessons. When someone uses his knowledge to better their own lives.
It made him feel alive.
"Fount of Knowledge?" Strawberry Pie Cookie tilts her head then, looking meaningfully at the Emissary. The guide's brows are furrowed in mild concern, if not some subtle annoyance. "We're here."
Multi-colored eyes blink a little for just a moment, his own annoyance hidden at the fact that his daydreams have been so rudely interrupted.
"Ah, yes. While I do thank you for the a place to stay, you can also leave it for any cookie that needs it. I have no need to rest."
The words that leave the pink-doughed cookie come quickly. It was as though she would not take no for an answer, as though the Fount was without choice. "Please, do not even think of it! You are a messenger of the Gods! A cookie who is taking time out of their busy schedule to help us! We will do everything we can to make our village as much of a home for you in the meantime!"
If the Fount had half a mind to speak honestly about his feelings, he would have rolled his eyes. Despite his earlier words, he already felt quite tired.
He closes his eyes.
"Take me to the farmlands. Bring the others who have been waiting for me."
"…. And that will keep your crops from dying until winter."
By the time that Fount finishes what he had intended to teach, the sun had begun to set in the sky. The sky was painted with countless colors above them, and while many cookies would be sorry to see the day fade, he was grateful for it.
"Fount of Knowledge! But, what if the land should flood?"
"Oh, Fount of Knowledge! There are beasts who dig up our crops and destroy them! What should we do in this situation?"
"Isn't there some sort of magic to keep them from dying, even in winter?"
"My wife refuses to work! Can't I do something to motivate her again?"
"What if I don't want to do this? Don't you have a way to make it so I won't have to work?"
The questions come one after another, the voices only becoming louder with each query he receives. The Fount looks to the cookies, doing his best to keep a neutral expression. His work was never done, and that seemed to be true now more than ever.
"Fount of Knowledge! Why are you staying silent? Do you not know the answers to our questions?"
He opens his mouth to speak, only for a familiar voice to be heard in the crowd of others.
"Please!" A cookie steps forward in the crowd then, moving to the front of the countless villagers who had gathered.
Fount feels the way his heart drop — the way his throat goes dry at the sight of Healer Cookie. He had known that his secret would be revealed quickly, should he decide to join his lecture. However, why did he feel dread now? He feels the same as a child who had been caught in a lie.
But, why should he feel this way about a cookie who he barely knew?
Still, the Healer turns his back to the Fount, addressing only the crowd for now.
"I am certain that the Fount of Knowledge wants to answer all of your questions! But, it should be one at a time! Won't you give him a moment?"
The crowd of cookies look to one another then, their voices growing more silent as they spoke among themselves. They look almost wary for a moment. And that was just as well, for Healer — despite living an almost secluded life from the village — was fairly well-loved. He was helpful, especially good with children, and he helped the wounded whenever they needed it.
If it was anyone else who spoke up, then the response the cookies gave next would be likely far more aggressive. Despite his reputation, however — it did not seem to save him from a rather negative response. It was as though he had interrupted a ritual as old as time, as though he had come between their prayers and their god. It takes only moments before the crowd begins to speak again.
It was blasphemous, in a way.
"Healer Cookie! The Fount of Knowledge is here for us! It's his duty to answer our questions!"
"Witches above, are you really speaking out of turn? What on Earthbrad are you doing?!"
"Fount of Knowledge! Please, forgive him for speaking for you!"
The crowd begins to approach the both of them all the more, the Fount's fist hanging at his side balling into a fist. And perhaps, what happens next in itself was both fortunate and ill-served at the same time.
For before he can respond, he feels a hand take his — firm and gentle, warm and calloused all at the same time.
Healer had taken his hand into his, tugging the Fount of Knowledge forward—
And beginning to run.
And for the second time that day, even as the sound of panic cookies begin to fade — even as the cold air runs through his hair—
The Fount of Knowledge feels his heart race in his chest.
And despite himself, his lips curve upwards into a soft smile.