āArtur is one of the best craftsmen in the world,ā Anneliese said to Argrave. āI do believe the idea of letting him choose another method to utilize the fruit holds some merit.ā
Argrave cleaned off his armor of black dirt accrued in the cave of volcanic rockāarmor of Arturās make, upon reflectionāas he listened to Anneliese. Raven had derided Argrave somewhat for cowardice, but even he eventually admitted it might be foolish to press further. He remained behind to gather more information, while Argrave returned to preside over Blackgard and Vasquer.
āYeah, butā¦ā Argrave conjured some water, rubbing across it with a rough cloth. āGive a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, he can feed himself for a lifetime. Imagine the things Artur might be able to make if he does eat the fruit. He could turn anything he touches into a work of art.ā
Anneliese narrowed her eyes. āIn this scenario, we would be feeding him the fruit.ā
He tried to think of some way to rework the idiom in this context, but eventually gave up and set aside his mostly-clean armor. āConsider this. Giving the fruit to Durran might have given us the ability to loosen Gerechtigkeitās control over the undead. On the other end of the spectrum, giving the fruit to Artur might unlock some way to prevent automatons from falling under his sway.ā
Anneliese considered that deeply, then shook her head. āI donāt see it. If it were Dario, perhaps. Artur has no relation to automatons.ā
āAll I know is Iād much rather have King Arthur on my side than Excalibur.ā He shook his head. āA special artifact. Whoopee. Unless it can duplicate itself indefinitely, cut through space and time, and kill Gerechtigkeit in one strike, whatās the point?ā
āYou were reserving the last fruit to help us invade the Shadowlands, as theyāre allegedly vastly different from both mortal and divine realms,ā Anneliese pointed out. āPerhaps we can give the task of creating an artifact that would allow us to breach the Shadowlands upon Artur.ā
āThatāsā¦ā Argrave tossed the idea around in his head, and as he saw its merit, his back grew rigid as his depleted vigor returned. āThatās wonderful. And if itās Artur that handles things, it might do far more than allow us to infiltrate the Shadowlands. I wonāt say no to a key item that gives some other buffs. Butā¦ I donāt know. What the hell do you craft out of a fruit? A smoothie? Wine? Maybe you use the skin to make a lampshade?ā
āArtur is the crafter, not us. I believe the idea will appeal to him greatly. Asking him not to change his body, but to employ his well-earned craftsmanship to create something unparalleledā¦ that might ignite his fervor far more than the research team did.ā
Argrave studied her. āHeās not so enthusiastic, eh? Not a team player?ā
āWellā¦ā Anneliese crossed her arms. āHe left the Order of the Gray Owl for a reason. He has a stubbornly independent personality which prohibits him from effective cooperation, yet also bestows that fiercely entrepreneurial spirit that allowed the Hall of Enchantment to arise. Some people arenāt suited to working with others. They only prosper if they can command unilaterally.ā
Argraveās mind wandered to the unflattering scenes of Artur shouting down his employees about quotas. It was hard to imagine the man meekly working with people in the team. He dismissed the thought and asked, āBesides that, how was the first day?ā
Anneliese practically bounced with eagerness as she said, āItās so much fun, Argrave! Developing hypotheses, testing them, revising the theory again and again as we press toward an answer. Of course, it had some politicking at the beginning. Everything does, sadly, but Iāve grown rather accustomed to it. And because Iām the chairman, I donāt write the notes. Someone else takes notes for me. That was always my least favorite part, but now itās gone!ā She sighed wistfully. āFrankly, the only thing that might improve it is if you were there with me.ā
āSweet talker,ā Argrave smiled.
āOh.ā Anneliese pointed at him, remembering something. āGarm needs to be reigned in. He showed up drunk, and he was complaining about the Domain of Order over the city that prevents lawlessness. He inquired to various members of the team about where he could buy certain herbs which I presume were drugs of some kind. I elected to have him removed. I wasnāt able to learn what he gathered from studying Llewellen.ā
Argrave sighed. āOne night of stipend, and heās alreadyā¦ well, fine. Iāll talk with him.ā
āHow is anyone going to take you seriously if you act like this?ā Argrave sat by Garmās bedside.
āI donāt want them to take me seriously,ā Garm answered back, his words still slurred. Argrave wondered just how much he had to drink. āI want them to think Iām a worthless nobody. Because if I canāt work with your research team, youāll be forced to get me a new body, a new identity, so I can begin again. Heeeā¦ā he grinned cheekily in his drunken state, showing the beggarās yellow teeth.
Argrave crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair. It had been long enough heād forgotten how conniving Garm could be.
āBesides, I was used to justā¦ā Garm ran his hands over his body. āCast a spell, and the alcohol goes away. All fun, no pain. I was so happy, I kind of forgot I canāt do that.ā He giggled deliriously.
āRaven has said he can prepare a body that meets your standards, but itāll take some time,ā Argrave said. āIn the meantime, I need you to act with the dignity and gravity that everyone else acts with. Weāre dealing with a very serious matter. Quite literally the highest stakes.ā
āDo you knowā¦?ā Garm looked at Argrave, a subdued smile on his face. āThe last thing I rememberā¦ you were in the Alchemistās little workshop, getting worked and shopped. The last few centuries before we met I had spent in a haze, running through my head again and again why my own son would put my head on a stake. I was aliveā¦ but not alive. A head on a stake.ā He smiled. āI chose to die. I died fighting, but I did die. I died, you little bastard. I died. For the third damned time. Noā¦ second, actually.ā
āYou got better,ā Argrave countered. āBecause of us.ā
āI died,ā continued Garm, practically ignoring Argrave. āThen, āsnap.ā Wake up in Durranās head. When I last saw this place, this kingdom, it was the half size and the Order of the Rose reigned supreme. We had an empire paved. We of the Order of the Rose were more kings that any of Vasquer ever were. I donāt even know how it all fell apart.ā He grabbed a pillow and sighed into it, then threw it aside clumsily. āNowā¦ you, supreme king. Order of the Gray Owl. Gods on earth. Biggest calamity ever. And me, a little figment on Durranās tapestry. Still dead, but a little less so. Can I just take a momentā¦ to have a little fun? Do I have to hop on the trolley heading for the crusade against the devil immediately? I got my life back. Can I enjoy it, while it lasts?ā
āWhile it lasts?ā Argrave repeated.
āYouāll be rather relieved to know Iām not eternal,ā Garm grinned broadly. āEspecially not if I do what I should do.ā
Argrave narrowed his eyes. āYou mean to say youāre dying?ā
āI died. I died! Catch up, you two-legged bastardā¦ā Garm covered his mouth, and Argrave thought he was about to retch.š³reš²š ešnš¼vš²l.cšØš¦
āWhy donāt you tell me what you mean,ā Argrave suggested.
āIām a tribute to Garm. An impression. Iām not the real thing, just a collection of what he was, assembled to replicate him,ā he said. āWellā¦ whatās the difference, anyways, if it all ends in death? All roads end the same way. Whatās the use in doing anything?ā He scratched as his nose. āIām a tornado. Iām a coin spinning on the table. Once the initial push stops, Iāll settle down, rattlingā¦ and cease to be, just like I was. I got it all backā¦ā Garm held up both his arms, clenching his hands into fists. āOnly to see a timer of the time I got. A countdown to the third death. The universeās fucked me so good that Iāve come to like it. Ergo, hedonism. Debauchery. Why not do all I missed the first two times? I donāt even have to care about the body I end up in, because youāll get me a new one.ā
Argrave saw it allāthe big talk, the humor, the scheming, the callous disregard for othersā¦ and he felt incredibly sad. Were these truly the death throes of the man Argrave had thought was incredibly lucky? Darkly enough, he wondered if he wasnāt being played. Garm was certainly capable of such a thing. Anneliese wasnāt present, but perhaps he could call her.
For now, Argrave would try it on his own.
āHow much time do you really have?ā Argrave pressed. If Garm was lying, he hoped further scrutiny might make it all fall apart, or clarify its veracity.
āI only know Iām fading,ā Garm said. āBut if I can notice it, it must not be long.ā
āWhat are you supposed to doāthat thing you said earlier?ā
Garm looked at Argrave. āI could give life to other impressions, like myself. Or, I could just recreate myself. That was my original intention. Split the fun, maybe? Perhaps I could do something insanely twisted with two of meā¦ or perhaps weād just fight. But that might be fun, too.ā
āYou meanā¦ bring others back from the dead?ā Argrave said in surprise.
āMmhmm.ā Garm scratched at his face. āA sequel to your favorite dead people. I could even bring back that Llewellen fellow. But if I do, I would have to surrender some of my time, some of my own life. So, why bother?ā