The Magicians' Realm Chapter 75: Deadbeats, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Chapter 75, everybody! Hey, that's like some sort of milestone, isn't it?...

And for the record—as I've found out over the years, this fic and a few others I'm working on have ended up being the place where I vent my frustrations over my first college. Editing the swear words out of books? Yup, first college—which is also where I first read Fahrenheit 451; the irony of reading a book on censorship that had in itself been censored.

Angiembabe, thanks for the review! She worked out that the bird is Yami—she just isn't aware yet that there's two running around. Yes! And…it's complicated. Yami's soaking some magic in, but he doesn't have enough magical oomph right now to keep a feather together once it's left his body—which again brings up the question of what happens to his clothes….

Fromtheashtrees, thanks for the review! Yes….It is a fun word. :D Probably—but at least I didn't have to explain everything and just watch the movie. This is true….This is also true—I'll try to get that finished up soon….

Thanks for the review, Guest! (FluffyIdiotIsI, is that you?). Yes…I think it's easier for Yami S. and Teana because they're older and have (mostly) gotten past the awkward stuffs and have prior relationships to draw off of—Yami M. and Anzu are, technically, still relatively children. Seto is…lurking. Quietly. Like a statue. But he'll be making an appearance again before the end of Book I. probably. Ha ha—I think there's a TV Trope about that….Heheh, I can just imagine one of the older group going "You look like us—stop it" and the younger group going "How!?" Ha! This is true (never read it—Mom read one sentence and literally tossed it back on the shelf). Hopefully (and that is true). Heheh…he is. That's coming up, don't worry. We're working on it….And I'll try!

References:

Original characters, + setting © Kineil D. Wicks (myself, not the girl in the story)

Actually getting to the Administration Building was an event in and of itself.

Somehow, word of the Administrator's death had spread like wildfire, and by the time Greg had gotten to the Administrator Square, it was to find it packed with spectators, rubberneckers, reporters, and just plain old morbid people. It took Greg upwards of an hour to actually wade through that mess.

When he finally did make it into the Administration Building, it was to find that one of the Grand Mages had been watching through the window.

"Wow," Grand Mage Ravel said, looking at him. "I'm surprised you actually went through that."

"Flying over would have been too ostentatious," Greg countered, dusting his suit off and straightening it back out. "What happened, and why was I the last to know, apparently?"

"Because you didn't call your mother bright and early this morning like a good little boy?"

Greg tried to resist scowling at him, figuring he'd be using those muscles a lot later. "Oh, is that why that mob knows more than I do?"

"Probably. The cleaning lady running out and screaming the news probably didn't help."

"Uh-huh. And what are you doing, pray tell?"

"What, you think I'm standing here for my health? I'm keeping the doors barricaded and everyone back—or did you think they were staying in the square proper instead of at the door out of respect?"

Fair enough. "Well, might as well assess the damage—where am I looking?"

Ravel lifted a hand from the sill long enough to thumb over his shoulder. "The Archives room. Apparently Mesthil was doing his favorite prowl when it happened."

Greg nodded once, sharply, before hasting off in that direction.

So much for a quiet week.

*\*/*

Breakfast was a vaguely interesting affair, all things considered—mostly because Yami seemed to only really know where the toaster and the coffee was.

"Kineil does most of the breakfast cooking," Yami explained to her. "We boys aren't allowed to cook in the mornings anymore, due to incidents."

"Just so we're clear," Teana said, gesturing slightly with the knife she was using to cut the bread. "Is this that other incident, or was there more than one?"

"We need coffee in order to function. And then there's that little problem of needing the coffee to make the coffee, so…."

"I'm going to postpone my opinion of you people's competence level until after I have some coffee in my system."

"So you see my point."

"Chirp," Lil' Stevie said, from his perch on Teana's shoulder.

"What he said," Teana said, indicating Lil' Stevie.

"Okay," Yami said, a finger to his face. "That gets depressing when the bird questions my abilities."

"The bird speaks the truth," Teana said, going back to slicing the bread. "And I hear that there's this wonderful thing in the stores now: it's called sliced bread."

"I've heard of that phenomenon," Yami said, putting the percolator on the stove and turning it on. "And I've tried it—it lacks the certain something of homemade bread, though."

"I'm pretty sure someone makes it."

"Gnomes, probably. Or trolls."

Teana looked at him. "Okay, I can't tell if you're being serious or pulling my leg."

"Trolls exist—they steal your socks, but only the left ones. And gnomes steal your tools, apparently—at least, if Heph and Vul are to be believed."

"Were they drinking at the time?"

"That might have been it," Yami admitted, opening the icebox and pulling out a couple of jars of jam and a bottle of milk.

"Okay," he said, depositing that on the counter and looking around. "I know for a fact there's sugar around here somewhere—I just have to remember where it is."

"I question your ability to run the country," Teana said, putting the slices of bread in the toaster.

"Running the country is easy—it doesn't randomly hide in different cupboards. I think Kineil hides the sugar just to be difficult."

"That does seem to be her speed."

"Really, the only problem with running the country is dealing with the Administrators," Yami continued, opening cupboard after cupboard and scanning the shelves. "They keep wanting to pass new laws that don't really help anybody, and then they get snippy when I veto them. And don't get me started on trying to get rid of some of the old laws that don't help anybody."

"Like what?" Teana had to ask, cracking the toaster open to check on the bread—she had used this kind of toaster before, and in her experience, it had three stages: not done, not done, burnt.

"Like regulating books and shows and things—people know for themselves if what they read or watch has no value. And classics are classics because they stood the test of time—the bad stuff will just fall by the wayside, and the good stuff will stay. It's the natural order of things. And telling people how to live is just insulting to said people—children don't even appreciate being treated like children, so why would adults behave any differently?"

"You sound like you've had this argument before."

"It helps that some of the stuff I've caught the Administrators reading would make your hair curl. And the fact that some of the stuff they object to isn't really all that objectionable. Ha—did you know—they wanted to edit all sorts of books, take out the swear words. You know, the wash-your-mouth-out-with-soap ones? I just picked out one of the books on the list and told them to read it."

"Which one?"

"Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. Now that's the epitome of irony—editing a book on censorship."

"Ray Bradbury—that name sounds familiar."

"Bradbury wrote Let's All Kill Constance."

"I still don't get that ending."

"The Ancients were weird."

Teana considered that. "It makes me wonder what people will think of us thousands of years from now."

"Good question—although the last time I asked questions at the breakfast table, Kineil told me to hold them until noon."

"What did you do?"

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"Do I dare ask what prompted her ruling?"

"I was just wondering why we drink cow milk."

"I know a guy who drinks goat milk."

"Yeah, but do you know what the milk comes out of? Who was that desperate?"

"I think I ought to reiterate Kineil's ruling."

"Marvelous," Kineil said, walking in—bare feet, pants, and a shirt. She took in the open cupboards, looked Yami up and down, and continued. "And what are you doing?"

"Looking for the sugar," Yami replied.

"I put it in the fridge—ants were getting in it."

"You could have asked me to do an ant repellant spell."

"I could have, but it's more fun to watch you boys hunt. Sleep well?" Kineil asked, looking at Teana.

"Fair enough," Teana said, checking the bread again.

"Chirp," Lil' Stevie noised.

"I see. And what is this?" Kineil asked, nodding at the toaster.

"Breakfast," Teana replied.

"And that's it?"

"That's it."

"That can't be it. Where's the meat? The eggs? The potatoes?"

"This is usually all I have time or money for."

"But you need those—they're three of the five basic food groups."

"I don't dare ask what the fourth and fifth are."

"Booze and lard. And then coffee for the necessary liquids."

"How are you still that size?"

"Kineil comes from the Texmex Republic," Yami explained, hunting in the icebox. "You know how we eat breakfast and then work until noon? Imagine work being translated as chasing cattle—she prefers food that sticks to her ribs until dinner."

"This is true," Kineil said. "And I didn't say the sugar was in the icebox—remember? We have a fridge now? That we plug in?"

"Oh, that's right. Where is it?"

"I hid it."

"Kineil…."

"Look in the pantry."

"I think you ought to look in the pantry."

"I ought to," Kineil agreed, already heading out the room. "That way I don't compromise any of my hiding places."

Teana waited until she was gone before commenting. "Is this a daily occurrence?"

"Only when we don't get up after her," Yami said, tugging the percolator off the stove and letting it sit as it finished. "Kineil's usually up with the sun and off to the races before we even think about it."

"Are these those big guineas that I hear Viktor go on about?"

"I think she just goes and does her own thing."

"Oh," Teana said, pulling the toast out of the toaster and scraping the burnt part off. Lil' Stevie hopped down and started pecking up the crumbs.

"Why? What is it?"

"I'm wanting some more information on the big guineas—I'm kind of interested, but I don't want to travel all that way without having more information."

"Well, we could go over there sometime—make a day out of it."

"I'll think about it."

"Fair enough," Yami said, pulling two mugs out and putting them on the counter before setting a tea strainer on the first one. "So what do you want to do today?"

"You have work."

"I do," Yami said, pulling the grounds container out before pouring the coffee. "But it's not like it's all that strenuous. Mostly it's just bribing Max to filibuster until the rest of the Administrators get bored."

"That's a terrible game plan. Go to work."

"Okay," Yami said, handing a full mug over and nudging the milk over. "So what I have to do will probably take until noon, at best—what do you want to do this afternoon?"

"I want to see you actually work like a normal person."

"I notice you only work about four hours anymore."

Oi. "What I do doesn't affect the fate of the civilized world."

"Oh, is that how we're describing my job now?"

"Yes."

"Chirp," Lil' Stevie said.

"Just—treat your job seriously for once," Teana said. "Work from nine to five, actually process what you're doing…file…."

"I can't work eight hours straight—I'd get bored. I'd get antsy. It's too much time spent with Max and the other Administrators."

"Humor me."

"I'll tell Max when I'm choking him that it's your fault."

"I think I'll manage."

"All right," Yami said, lacing his fingers as he propped his elbows on the counter and leaned over. "But tomorrow I get to take you on the town and all that. Take you to Bespoke's, lunch, other activities…."

"And during those eight hours you can get a more concrete game plan."

"I like that your answer wasn't immediately no."

"It was going to be, but I put my clothes in the closet and it's too roomy."

"Marvelous. I'll lock myself in my office and work out our itinerary then."

"You can't lock yourself in your office."

"I can't," Yami admitted. "Everyone knows how to either pick locks or spell them open. And Max just uses shadow travel to pop in."

"Okay, you people concern me."

"That seems to be a common narrative."

"There may be a reason for that."

"Oh, get a room!" Kineil demanded, alerting Teana to the fact that they had gotten mighty close in the last minute. And then joy of joys, she was glaring at them. Ow.

"Aren't we technically in a room?" Yami asked, looking at her.

"Get a different room," Kineil insisted. "You're souring the milk and corrupting the bird. Better yet—beat it. Get out of the house."

"You can't kick me out—this is my house."

"We've had this conversation. Now out. Out out out out!"

A few minutes later saw Yami and Teana effectively shooed out and the door slammed behind them. Teana was surprised her coat didn't get caught in the door, considering the immediacy of it shutting.

"She can't kick me out," Yami said after a few moments, matter-of-fact as he turned back to the door and knocked.

"Why are you knocking on your own door?" Teana asked.

"It's polite?"

Kineil opened the door, mug in her hand and glare on her face.

"We've talked about this," Kineil said. "Beat it."

And with that, she slammed the door again.

Yami scratched the back of his head before turning to Teana. "Well…now what?"

"Now you get to go to work," Teana said, sipping her coffee—and grimacing. "And I get to go find a diner and get some sugar."

"I think there's sugar in the kitchen now."

"I'm not going back in there."

Yami reached for the doorknob—

Kineil opened the door and stuck her head out.

"Don't make me tell you again."

Slam.

"I'm gonna leave now," Teana decided. "Go to work."

"Right," Yami said, kissing her on the top of the head. "Love you."

She noted his expectant look. "I'm not kissing you on the top of the head—I can't reach."

Yami shrugged. "It was worth a shot. I must fly, I suppose."

And with that, he turned into a bird again and flew off.

"Oi," Teana muttered.

Kineil stuck her head back out. "Is he gone? He's gone. Come on—let's have some real breakfast."

"I thought I was kicked out."

"The two of you are kicked out. Individually, I can stomach you. Now come on."

Teana sighed and went back in.

She wondered how the rent was back in town.

*/*\*

If Greg didn't know any better, he'd say that Administrator Mesthil had been scared to death.

It was the opinion of Dr. Rheau, at least, who had examined him and declared that the man had died of a heart attack. No one was entirely surprised—Administrator Mesthil was ancient even by Magician standards, and he had not possessed magic strong enough to keep his body healthy.

Indeed, the main concern among the other Administrators, it seemed, was electing a new Administrator to replace Mesthil. It struck Greg as a little disrespectful—the man was lying there dead and they were talking like he had massively inconvenienced them.

He watched as Drs. Rheau and Nox loaded Mesthil onto a cart, covered him with a tarp, and rolled him out. Administrator Carter, leaning on the doorframe, tapped some ash from his cigar onto the tarp as they passed.

Well…to be honest, he expected that from Administrator Carter. Administrator Carter was like that.

Administrator Carter also looked a little more worn-out than usual, like he had slept in the dirt. And with his shirt collar turned up and an ascot instead of his usual tie.

Greg crossed over to him. "Nice look," he observed.

Maxwell's expression was much more dour than usual. "Don't make me necessitate filling two slots," he said flatly.

"Why?" Greg asked, deciding to ignore the implied threat for now. "You planning on quitting?"

"Yes, actually. Quitting seems like a very nice option right now."

Wow. Greg had…never actually heard of an Administrator quitting. They usually stuck with the job until they died.

"That bad?" Greg asked.

"You literally have no idea."

Hmph. "And no clues as to what killed him."

"You heard the good doctor—the man died of a heart attack."

"That is what he said."

Maxwell tapped some ash off his cigar before abruptly changing tacks. "Well, at least something good comes out of all this."

"How do you figure?" Greg asked, startled.

Maxwell gave one of his customary snarling grins. "You finally have something to take your mind off your kid."

And with that, he was gone through his own shadow.

It took Greg a few moments to compose himself.

"I'm going to kill him," he gritted out finally, forcing his voice into an upswing. "One of these days, I'm going to kill him."

But first—finding out what killed Administrator Mesthil.