It was a rainy day throughout Minecraftia. For the past week it had done nothing but rain. Everywhere in Minecraftia sheets of fat heavy rain splatted against windows, pathways and roofs. The lower valleys were beginning to flood and lakes and rivers were swelled to dangerous levels.
The council was meeting that day to discuss the unusual weather. They had decided to meet at a castle, if only because it was dry and in a central location. However the decision was not an easy one. For the castle belonged to a previously unsavory character.
Lydia Blake was helping her fiancée get ready for the meeting. It was a difficult task. The man kept wiggling and fidgeting, nervous about hosting the meeting. He almost swatted away her hands when she tried fastening his tie tab.
She frowned. "Calm down. You'll do a fine job of hosting."
"That's not what I'm worried about." He said eloquently, looking at himself in the large wall mirror. His shirt was crisp pure white silk, delicately embroidered with gold and silver designs at the duffs. He was wearing grey pants and a matching tie, upon Lydia's request. He would have preferred black. "I'm worried about what might become of this meeting. What if this rain is more than normal water…?" He trailed off. Lydia stood in front of him and straightened his collar a bit.
"And if it isn't, you'll stop whoever or whatever caused it. Because you are a hero." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the nose.
He leaned down and kissed her softly. He would never admit it, but he was also worried about her. As a blessed child of Notch, she would always be in danger, a pawn some evil force could use to destroy the world, his creation. It didn't help that in his euphoria of bringing her back to life, he had insisted on making her immortal like him. And because of that, she'd be in danger forever. And it was his fault.
His fiancée pulled away, smirking. She fussed with his tie before nodding approvingly. "There. Perfect." He ran a hand through his hair and looked at himself critically.
"Perhaps I should fake illness and not make an appearance…" Lydia, who had crossed behind the man to pick up a comb, smacked him on the back of the head.
"That would be the move of a coward. You are many things Herobrine, but you are not a coward." She said sternly. He exhaled silently.
"You have no idea…" He murmured under his breath, too low for her to hear. "No idea…."
Herobrine had been sure to send a nether portal to each of the council member's homes. He had also made sure there were safe pathways leading from those portals to the portal he had erected in the entrance hall of his palace. A gesture of convenience he hoped would put the council members in a good mood. Of course, you never knew with people who had once been your enemy.
The banquet hall had been aired out for the occasion, Lydia having personally seen to the work. However she insisted in bringing in flowered from the now drowned garden. Herobrine paced the length of the hall, his eyes never leaving the rainbow of carnations in the corner he was glaring at. For the briefest of moments he wondered how Lydia and the gardener were able to grow such vibrantly colored carnations.
He shook his head and looked into an appearing mirror, fussing with his tie. Joining the council had been a bad idea, probably because it hadn't been Lydia's. He had come up with the notion after the incident, when he was drunk out of his mind. Well, he wasn't out of his mind. Being a god he always kept a constant level of higher thinking. But he had felt and acted drunk.
He flicked a few locks of his silvery blond hair. It had grown longer, brushing against the bottom of his collar. He reached behind his head and gathered it together in a small ponytail, turning his head to the side.
Someone cleared their throat at the door. The god spun around, waving the mirror away. One of the ghost servants Notch had given him stood at the door.
"My lord, your guests have arrived. Shall I lead them in?"
"Yes." Herobrine said, fixing his tie one last time. "And ask the cook to prepare a few cups of coffee."
"Coffee sir? Not tea?"
"I think coffee would be appropriate for the council members…" The butler nodded, turning to walk away. "Oh, and ask the cook to have a bit of ale ready, just in case." The butler turned back and bowed.
"Of course sir."
The butler left and he council members slowly shuffled into the hall. Herobrine spied Honeydew and Xephos mumbling and looking around the hall, the former in awe, the latter in skepticism. The gruff King Iwan of the Dwarves shoved past the two heroes, grumbling. Herobrine recalled when he had held his trusty obsidian blade at the king's throat. The thought almost made him yearn for the old days.
A hand clamped down on the god's shoulder. He turned to see Professor Oslo and Orion standing next to him, smiling. The professor's salt and pepper hair was lighter than Herobrine remembered.
"Herobrine! My favorite god! How have you been? It's been a while. How's Lydia? Adjusting well?"
"Sir, I'm the only god you know…" Herobrine muttered off hand. "I am doing quite well, as is Lydia. She seems at home. The cook and gardener have grown accustomed to working with her next to them." The professor chuckled.
"Doesn't surprise me. She could never settle on a life of being waited on." He continued chuckling as if he was amused at some joke only he was privy to and sauntered off to greet the other council members. Orion shook Herobrine's hand politely.
Over the past year, Orion had come out of his shell, no doubt thanks to Lydia and Lucy's constant poking and prodding. He had moved out of the ancient tower in the woods to a much grander one in New Mistral. He had opened a potion shop, now the best in the city as he could get the rarest ingredients in the Nether from Herobrine. He was a celebrity practically, not only for having helped save the world, but also for being one of the most eligible bachelors in New Mistral.
However, he looked tired, with dark bags under his eyes that quite complimented his sweater. The grip on Herobrine's hand was wear, more so than usual.
"Tired?" Herobrine asked lightly.
"I bit." Orion said, releasing his hand. "It's been a while since I've had a decent night's sleep."
"Too busy entertaining all those ladies to sleep Alchemist?" A snarky voice with a heavy north accent said from behind them. They turned, having to look down to see the face of the short blond Skylord before them. "Of course, it wouldn't surprise me after what that daft reporter wrote in the paper."
"Don't get me started on that article!" Herobrine blinked.
"What was written in this article?"
"It wouldn't surprise me if everything she wrote was true." Lucy sniffed pretentiously.
"Nothing is true! The only thing in that article that wasn't fiction was my name! And she spelled it wrong!" Orion groaned. Lucy snickered.
"What are you talking about? What article?!" Herobrine asked desperately.
"And then she made up some ridiculous sob story about my family, when I didn't even mention they were dead! Notch, it was ridiculous…."Orion took a deep breath, controlling his temper. "Better than them knowing the truth I suppose…" Herobrine cleared his throat.
"As much as I'd love to hear all about this article, I think Lydia would like to hear it more."
"Oh yeah, where is that daft girl?" Lucy said, shifting her attention to the god. "She never writes me anything interesting anymore! It's all Herobrine has been doin' this or Herobrine's been doin' that. I'd hate to be rude, but I don't care what you're doin'. I want to know how she's been."
"Still rude like always…" Orion murmured endearingly.
"Well don't be complaining to me. She's upstairs in the library waiting for you two." Herobrine said, frowning. Lucy was about to say something, but Orion grabbed her by her jacket collar like a kitten.
"Come on Airhead. You're not allowed to talk with the grownups."
"Shut up! I'll be here one day! You just wait!" She shrieked as Orion dragged her out of the room, chuckling. Herobrine sighed. At least they weren't at each other's throats.
The god casually adjusted his tie again and sat down at the head of the table. He ran his hand over a black feather quill nest to him, causing it to jump up, quivering, ready to record the meeting to the letter.
The other council members slowly took their seats around the table and the maid came around placing steaming cups of coffee in front of each of them. Herobrine looked at their faces and took a deep breath. No time like the present.
"Gentlemen, and Ms. Peculiar, I welcome you to my home." He cringed inwardly. It was scary how much he had just sounded like his brother. "I hope you will find your short stay enjoyable."
"Enough pleasantries Herobrine." King Iwan growled. Apparently he hadn't gotten over the sword at his throat. "Let's get this done quickly so we can leave this god forsaken place."
"Pardon me your majesty," The professor interjected thoughtfully. "But I don't think that's an appropriate phrase, considering the circumstances."
Herobrine however bit his tongue to hold his temper and nodded curtly, reclining in his chair. "You are absolutely right Sire. I am in no authority to lead this. I shall bequeath the floor to you Lysander." The skylord nodded a thanks to the god and rose, shuffling through a few notes.
"Gentlemen, and Ms. Peculiar, we are here today not to discuss our normal business of taxes and construction, but of this god forsaken rain plaguing our land." Herobrine cleared his throat.
"I'd hate to interrupt, but could we perhaps stop using that term?" The two heroes and Isabel snickered.
"Pardon me." Lysander said, crossly glaring at the three. "Anyway, as I was saying, I went over the almanacs from the past hundred years and found no record of this much rainfall continuously previously."
"I think you are all overreacting." Xephos chimed in, adding a few lumps of sugar to his coffee. "We can easily classify this as just nature paying back for the drought we had a few years ago."
"Logically, you would think just as much, but that drought was almost ten years ago." The professor said, taking his glasses off and cleaning them carefully. "A little late for Mother Nature to finally repay for it. No, according to my calculations, that drought was made up for years ago." He replaced the wire-framed spectacles on his nose.
It went on like that for a while. Someone would suggest something ass the professor or Lysander would shoot it down with logic. Herobrine looked into his coffee, having lost interest long before. The cup, which would have gone cold long before, steamed as he traced his first finger around the rim of the fine porcelain cup. The quill beside his hand was frantically writing, going through page after page of the log book as the discussion droned on.
The conversation was slowly turning into a heated argument between Xephos, Lysander, King Iwan and the professor. Herobrine had resolved himself to watch Honeydew make faces as he doodled on Xephos papers. Had that is. As soon as the first threat was thrown, the god took it upon himself to stop things.
"Enough of that you bloody barbarians! Honestly! I had thought the council could have a civil conversation but apparently I was mistaken. I should have realized who the members of the council were."
King Iwan bristled and glared at the god. "What an impertinent thing to say! You should learn to speak in place."
Herobrine narrowed his cold eyes and met the king's glare, his mouth a thin line. His gaze quickly shattered the king's and his words were laced with ice. "And you should learn when your stubborn arrogance gets the better of you. You forget that I am a god. I helped create this world, I can just as easily destroy it and you." His voice had taken a hollow, monotone quality. The council members were looking at him with looks akin to horror. Honeydew had his hand poised over the paper, ink dripping off his pen.
The god blinked, looking down. He adjusted his tie and cleared his throat, slowly sitting when he realized he'd gotten up. "Excuse me." He said as quietly and casually as possible, taking a sip from his coffee. "Please continue."
Lysander swallowed a large gulp of his cold drink. "Ahem, well, uh since it seems we are at a standstill, do you have any suggestions Herobrine?"
Herobrine shook his head, standing back up and nodding politely. "Perhaps when I come back I'll have some sort of idea." Without waiting for words of consent of protest, the god dashed out of the room.
He breathed deeply, his head swimming as he ran outside into the drowned garden and sat down on one of the marble and iron benches. He looked at the water logged plants as a river flowed over his black leather shoes. A rainbow of carnation petals, now dingy and soggy and gray, floated along the current, twisting and dipping in an elaborate dance of death. Water ran into his eyes, clouding his vision. Not that he needed to see.
He was thinking hard, trying to figure out what had caused him to snap. It had been years since he'd talked so coldly and violently. He'd learned to how to control himself, how to act refined and eloquent in the presence of humans, how to socialize and coexist with his brother's creations. He had taught himself how to not hate his mother and brother and everything they'd ever done. He thought he'd done a good job at it too. Apparently not.
He sighed in resignation and peeled his hair off his face, slicking it back tight against his scalp. There really was nothing to do. He would end the council meeting as fast as possible and send them on their way. And in the morning he would send each of them a letter of resignation, stating how he was unfit to be a part of the council.
Herobrine slowly walked back into the castle, his butler standing inside waiting with a towel and a steaming mug on a tray.
"Sir, I realize you are a god and not susceptible to aging and most diseases, but you can still catch cold. And given the current circumstances, a cold would not be in your best interest. Also, please remove your shoes so I can have them dried immediately. They are expensive so I don't want them to get ruined." Herobrine sighed, wedging his finger into the sole of his shoes and peeling them off.
"I would not mind having a cold…I wouldn't have to deal with this council business." He took the mug, draining it and rubbed his head with the warm fluffy towel.
"You may want to rethink that when you see what the council discovered in your absence." The butler led Herobrine from the back parlor to the front hall, where the council was convened.
They were standing around the Nether portal, staring at it as if it was alien. Herobrine carefully pushed his way through the crowd. He blinked, water running over his toes. He looked down at the miniature creak running over the marble tiles.
"What the…" He mumbled, his eyes running up the current to the source of the water. The portal was leaking. He blinked again, this time in disbelief. "Is…the portal…leaking water?"
"It would appear so…" Xephos quipped. Without thinking, Herobrine jumped through the portal.
The god expected his feet to burn on the searing rock, but they didn't. He looked around desperately for fire and lave but saw nothing but rivers of rushing water, glowstone dust and mushrooms swirling in the current. The path he had erected had been washed away. He ran over to a cliff where below he knew there was a massive sea of lava, and fell to the soaked rock, looking over the edge. There was an ocean of not lava, but water below, a layer of obsidian just under the calm surface.
Rising slowly, with an expression of horror gracing his face, Herobrine walked through the Nether portal, back to the overworld. He quickly sent the portal away and fell to the groan. He pulled his knees up to his chest and covered his face with his hands. Professor Oslo gently patted Herobrine on the shoulder.
"I think we can safely assume this water is not natural." Lysander said grimly. Herobrine let out a strangled cry. "We can also conclude that no one is going home tonight."