Lowen makes a batch of truth potions. So here's a story that has revelations thrown left and right. A bit of badly-portrayed romance thrown in with a bunch of cheap laughs that probably won't make you laugh and, since I've MAJOR issues, wierd things that will land this in the R-rated section if I'm not careful. Read at your own risk.
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Note: Most pairings will be random because I don't support much of anything other than a few pairings such as HectorXFlorina, NinoXJaffar, BartreXKarla and WilXRebecca (I'm a die-hard fan of this but I'm gonna have to drop it for this fanfic, hinthint). I'll write the rest of the pairings on whim. And not all of the revelations will be based on romance. Hope you don't mind. Also, I mean everything in this fic in a good-natured way. I don't mean to insult anybody except the fictional characters of Fire Emblem. There are slashes in the place of a few select words for reasons.
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Nils: Why does your penname sound like "umbrella"?
… You've just ruined the atmosphere of my penname. Now do the disclaimer before I get angry.
Nils: But-
Disclaimer.
Nils: But!-
Disclaimer!
Nils: BUT!-
DISCLAIMER!
Nils: HMPH! FINE! "UMBRELLA" DOESN'T OWN FIRE EMBLEM!
IT'S "UMBRIELLE"! "UM-BRI-ELLE"!
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(Fake) Contract
By reading this story you agree to the terms of responsibility as follows:
i) Any and all illnesses concerning the reader's mental stability caused by this fic is not to be blamed on the author of this fic.
ii) The author is not to be asked for payment for therapy lessons in the situation that a reader needs such care.
iii) The author is not to be blamed in the case that the reader is forced into a straitjacket and put into a mental institute for people who became insane from reading extremely wierd fanfics.
iv) The author cannot be blamed if the plotholes contained erase a good bit of the reader's logic.
v) You, the reader, are not to call me, the author, "Umbrella". Only my muse(s) can get away with it. Readers will have signs saying, "I'M ENGAGED TO RATH/HEATH/SOME OTHER BISHIE" stuck on their backs with super duper glue and then put into a room with jealous, rabid fangirls wielding sharp, pointy things while the said reader(s) are/is armed with only chopsticks (How many people know how to use these for dinner?) regardless of the gender of the afore mentioned reader(s).
vi) I, Umbrielle the author, had fun writing this fake contract (especially the "v" part). And you don't actually have to follow these terms. I just did them for fun.
Sign Here X
Chapter Start -----
It was a beautiful day, the birds were chirping, the sky was clear, and the sun was shining. While most of Eliwood's Elite had settled down to enjoy the afternoon, Lowen was stuck in the kitchen preparing lunch. Marcus had ordered that his student lengthen his stamina by resting less. Eliwood had tried to get Lowen out of doing it but, to the surprise of many, he said that he was fine and that he would make lunch.
So he went to the kitchen, opened the door, went inside, closed the door, and slumped to the ground with a sigh. Marcus was harsh on him but Lowen held back his protests. He had sworn to become the best knight he could be so that he could help people in need. One day, he told Marcus of his goals and his teacher had yet to let up on his training since. His teacher's intentions were good but the training had worn Lowen down quite a bit.
Lowen's workload hadn't been lessened when Sain and Kent joined up. The green-haired knight admired the other two. Sain's strength was absolutely remarkable and Kent's accuracy and reliability were known throughout Caelin. How could he, a lowly knight not much better than a page, compare to them?
Marcus, having seen the fruit of Wallace's intensive training, did the same for Lowen. His training was doubled, no, quadrupled and the rests in between became shorter and shorter until they became no more than half a minute's worth. But Lowen knew that maybe, just maybe, his hard work would pay off one day and he would be strong enough to help others and be known for his deeds. No, that wasn't quite right, he didn't want to be famous. He just wanted to help. Lowen was a strict follower of the rules of chivalry. Even Marcus had to commend him on that.
Lately, Marcus began to notice Lowen's struggle through wave after wave of training. He went into a little talk with him. Lowen still remembered it. He shuddered.
-----
Lowen was sweating profusely after his training. It was the end of that day's workout but there was another session the day after. Lowen couldn't help but let out a sigh. Marcus, having noticed the recent depressed expression of his student, sat down beside him. He then asked, "Is something troubling you?"
Lowen looked at his teacher's eyes. There was a hint of concern in them. Lowen didn't want to make his instructor worry so he said, "No, not at all, Sir Marcus."
Marcus' forehead creased. Then he said, "I've been noticing your stress. Don't lie. It goes against chivalry."
Lowen lowered his head. Marcus was right. And now, he failed at the one thing he was good at in being a knight. How could he help people in need now? But this old veteran wasn't heartless (maybe useless but not heartless).
"Don't get depressed about it. Even the best of the best make mistakes," said Lowen's old tutor gently. "You were just trying not to worry me, were you not?"
Lowen sheepishly twiddled with his fingers. So his teacher wasn't angry with him. Well, that was good.
Marcus smiled and for just a split second, Lowen could've sworn that he saw a glint of malevolence in his eyes. But he must've been seeing things. Then the old paladin said, "I believe that it's about time that you make a friend."
It suddenly dawned on Lowen that he hadn't made much of any friends in the army. He had known them, of course, but he never really got too close to any of them. That archer, Rebecca was her name, she was a nice girl but she would never fall for anyone such as Lowen. But he had to admit that he KINDA liked her. But she'd most likely fall for Sain, that ladies' man.
That gave Lowen an idea. The cavalier brightened up. "Maybe I could introduce myself to Sir Kent and Sir Sain!"
Marcus laughed and for another short moment, Lowen thought that he had just seen the malevolent glint in his eye again. Either that or it was his hair. He was going to have to get a haircut one of these days.
Marcus then looked straight at Lowen and said, "What I'm talking about isn't a fellow knight. I'm talking about a lady friend."
That's when Lowen's jaw dropped. Surely he must've misheard his old instructor. A lady friend?! (In our lingo, it means girlfriend.) The poor cavalier started stuttering. "Uh, I-I must c-continue m-my training, S-Sir M-Marcus!"
And he dashed off with the strength of a suddenly rejuvenated young man. See? The medieval times and our times aren't all that different.
-----
Lowen shook his head to clear it of all the horrors of him in a wedding tuxedo beside a young woman in a wedding gown and got to work. First, he thought that he should get a refreshing drink for the group. It shouldn't be too hard.
Unfortunately, Hannah had been in there a short while ago. She hadn't bothered to clean up after doing God-knows-what in the kitchen. Many of her supplies were lying around where the REAL kitchen supplies should be. But Hannah used ordinary looking containers that could be found in everyday grocery stores, provided that there were grocery stores back then.
And of course, she had some not-so-ordinary ingredients in those containers. As in, really, really, REALLY not-so-ordinary.
Maybe it was his fatigue. Maybe it was his stress. Who knows, it might've even been his hair. But Lowen unsuspectingly poured a bunch of not-so-ordinary ingredients into a mixer. 'Hm,' he thought, 'I think that these lemons are too mushy… Oh well.'
With a shrug, he continued to mix his "lemonade". After a about half an hour (I think that that's how long it takes to make lemonade) he had a few dozen canteens or so of freshly made "lemonade". When he tried to get out of the kitchen, however, the lamps went out. An eerie, cloaked figure walked towards the knight. Its footsteps echoed through the room.
When the figure lifted its face to see Lowen, he saw that it was just Hannah, an elderly fortune teller. Lowen sighed in relief and laughed. "For a moment there I thought that you were a witch who was going to say that I accidentally concocted a bunch of weird stuff instead of lemonade! Pretty stupid, huh?"
Instead of a laugh from a humoured old lady, Lowen received a gasp and a surprised expression. "How'd you know?!" demanded Hannah.
Lowen blinked (but who can tell?) and started stuttering. "I-I'm right?"
Hannah solemnly nodded. "Yes, child, you are. You have used my ingredients to create a batch of…"
For some reason, she heard a drum roll. She looked around the kitchen and found Lowen using a couple of ladles and a pan. He sheepishly grinned and blushed. "Sorry. Couldn't't help it."
Hannah wistfully shook her head. "The things that youths do these days are hardly logical," she muttered under her breath. "Anyway," she switched to a loud and clear voice, "you have used my ingredients to create a batch of-"
Another drum roll was heard. Hannah sighed again. "Why can't modern youths do logical things?!" she cried out to the ceiling. "Like worshipping my blinding beauty!"
Lowen stared. But nobody could ever tell with him and his hair. He thought, 'Well, it most likely WOULD blind someone or another.'
Then he got a mental image of Hannah posing in an extremely tight and skimpy bikini. (A/N: This is one of the main reasons for the fake contract above.)
"And now," she continued to boom, "without further interruption," she looked at Lowen sternly, "I shall deliver my message!"
"Wait!" said Lowen. "Should I get a pen and notebook and write this stuff down?"
Hannah's eye twitched. "STOP WITH THE INTERRUPTIONS ALREADY!" she yelled. "JUST LET ME FINISH MY SENTENCE!"
Lowen cowered in fear. "O-okay, I'll be good and wash the dishes and feed the dog and clean the toilets and shine the armour and make some food and do whatever you say and stuff!"
"Good," said Hannah, nodding. "Ahem," she said as she rolled her shoulders. Then she did hip stretches. And then she bent down and touched her toes. She did various other stretches and then she declared, "You, Sir Lowen, shall deliver to others.... Rubber Duckies!"
Lowen gaped. "Rubber… Duckies? …"
Hannah scratched her head. "Well, it might've said 'Truth Potions' in the spell book but my eyesight's been deceiving me lately. I'm quite sure that it's 'Rubber duckies'!"
Lowen nodded in respect. Hey, no sense bugging an old lady by trying to convince her that truth potions were more logical than rubber duckies.
The old seer then paced back and forth in the kitchen. "You must distribute all the rubber duckies to all the people in the army! They must learn-"
Lowen did a drum roll again. Hannah glared at him and Lowen decided to bow in apology and listen carefully.
"-their destinies! This is your mission, oh Sir Lowen!"
Lowen blinked again. Not that we could tell. "Uh… that sounds… corny…"
"Corniness matters not in this important matter!" boomed Hannah. "You must do this task that I give you or face my WRATH!"
At that moment an eerie light shot up in the darkness, making a deep contrast of light and dark on Hannah's face. The shadows made her look supernatural. Lowen looked on with awe. 'How'd she do that?' he thought.
"Now go, child!" cried out the elderly woman.
Lowen saluted her and started to run out of the kitchen until he remembered a particular memory.
-----Little Lowen was a little kid with messy hair. He had a tendency to peek into rooms because when you're a little kid, you don't know about the saying "Curiosity killed the cat." So he was attracted to a particular room from which Marcus' voice could be heard.
"WHO DA MAN?! YOU DA MAN!"
Lowen wasn't really sure why his instructor would say that to somebody. So being the curious little guy he was, he peeked into the room and saw a shirtless Marcus (A/N: Don't feel disgusted just yet; he might've looked good SOMETIME during his life) posing in front of a mirror and talking to himself. But the little cavalier-to-be didn't know about mirrors so he thought that Marcus was actually talking to a twin.
The little guy stepped into the room and said, "I didn't know you had a twin."
Marcus turned around to look at Lowen with a shocked expression on his face. He didn't know what surprised him more, the fact that Lowen might've heard him talking to himself or the fact that Lowen had said that the old paladin had a twin.
-----
"W-would I have to listen to their… revelations?" asked a nervous Lowen. He didn't want to learn anything… disturbing.
"Hm…" Hannah thoughtfully scratched her old, wrinkled up chin. She COULD make the poor guy suffer some more by making him listen to the disturbing confessions of other people. Or she could show some nonexistent pity by telling him to split every time someone had just taken a swig of the truth potion.
But where's the fun in the first one?
Just as she was about to say the former, she heard something exploding in the distance. "Ah no!" moaned the old woman. "My other kinds of rubber duckies! You can go split when they start giving you revelations, now go, go!"
She started hobbling away at full speed (which isn't really very fast since she's an old lady) but then she remembered something and stopped.
Then she turned around to face Lowen and the mysterious light appeared again. "You made one extra rubber ducky for yourself, correct?" she boomed.
Lowen nodded. Although he had only filled up a small portion of his own canteen, he had some, alright.
Hannah nodded approvingly. "After you have given the second last rubber ducky, you shall use the last one for yourself! Understood?!"
Lowen nodded again. He was still wondering about the mysterious light and where it came from.
Hannah curtly bowed. "I shall be checking on you, Sir Lowen, and you best do as I say or face my-"
The light flickered on and off and then a smacking noise was heard. Just as Lowen looked around to see where the sound was coming from, Hannah was staring down her robes and intently using her hands to smack something. However, her efforts were in vain and the light died out completely.
Lowen turned back to Hannah just in time to see her do the "one second gesture" with her finger. She turned around and a noise that sounded suspiciously like the changing of batteries in a flashlight was heard. But Lowen, being the medieval guy he is, doesn't know about flashlights and batteries. Hannah had somehow sneaked into Mark's room and snatched one when he wasn't looking
When the old fraud turned around to face Lowen again she boomed, "MY WRATH WILL BE UNFORGIVING IF YOU FAIL TO CARRY OUT THIS MISSION THAT I GIVE YOU!"
"And here," the old woman said, "Stick these onto the canteens!"
Hannah gave Lowen a roll of paper. The cavalier unrolled the roll and saw... a bunch of stickers with the words "Rubber Ducky" printed on them. Lowen opened his mouth to speak but was saved the trouble when Hannah said, "People have a right to know what they're using."
Lowen nodded, finding that it made sense... in some weird way.
"OBEY ME!" she cried.
Just as Lowen started cowering at the sound of Hannah's voice, she broke the mood by saying, "Now excuse me as I go save my rubber duckies from burning the whole camp down to the ground." That said, she hobbled back to her tent to do God-knows-what to prevent the tragedy from happening.
Lowen then decided to do as Hannah asked. But just as he was about to turn around and get to work, he saw an odd little black object on the ground. It was one of those little small microphones that you could clip onto your shirt. Most of them were for communication over long distances but this one was made to magnify sounds and make them sound like they're booming. But of course, Lowen knows as much about those things as he knows about horseless carts (cars) and fireless torches (flashlights).
After a while, he sat down and started sticking the stickers on the canteens, wondering if people would think him insane for calling canteens of lemonade "Rubber Ducky".
----
As he carried them outside the kitchen, he heard a distant conversation by the place where the Ostians had camped. Their campsite was discreetly placed further away from the others. It wasn't that the Ostians despised the others but it was because that Ostia was known for having a wide network of spies. They needed privacy for when Hector had to make decisions for spies such as Matthew and send important messages to other spies from all over Elibe.
When Lowen, who didn't really know about Ostia, was at the edge of the Ostian campsite, he saw a cleric and a thief bending down in the grass as if they were searching for something.
"I'm sure my ring's around here somewhere!" said a shrill (and loud) voice.
"Well, if you're so sure then you can go looking for it yourself!" retorted a second voice that was obviously impatient.
"But I need help!" wailed the first voice.
"Ask the young master!" yelled the second voice.
"But I need someone nice and handsome to help me and Hector's anything but that!"
"… This is what you did with that poor mage, Erk."
"Hey, it's not my fault he became completely transfixed by my beauty!"
The second voice groaned. "I don't know why I put up with you."
And of course, the first voice exploded. "PUT UP WITH SWEET LITTLE INNOCENT ME?!! I SHOULD BE SAYING THAT TO YOU!!!"
Lowen nearly dropped his canteens when he heard that. He decided that now was the time to save poor Matthew from Serra. "Uh, excuse me?"
Serra and Matthew looked at him. Lowen suddenly felt nervous. Somehow, he managed to pluck up some courage and talk to them. "I'm Lowen and I was wondering if you would mind having some refreshment after today's battle."
He was expecting some sort of rude statement or gesture but instead, Matthew, who wanted to be as far away from Serra as possible, was relieved to get this chance to get away from her at last. He dashed over to Lowen, grabbed a couple of canteens, said his thanks and dashed back to Serra. He offered one to Serra. The cleric looked at him suspiciously as she accepted it.
As soon as they drank some of it, Lowen watched. What would happen when the truth potions' effects took place? To his surprise, nothing happened. Even more to his surprise, the two Ostians eagerly gulped down the contents of the canteens.
Matthew finished first and let out a satisfied belch. "S'cuse me."
Serra looked in horror at Matthew but the thief paid her no heed and said to Lowen, "This is very tasty. Although I think that the lemons are a bit mushy."
Despite her often very clear dislike of the thief, she nodded her head in agreement. If not for "special circumstances", she, most likely, would not have nodded her head in agreement. She would've bickered at the thief and said that the lemons were fine. But, of course, that could've been considered "lying" in that situation.
Then Lowen decided to split. He did not want to be there when the two started spewing out secrets that were secrets for good reasons. But he felt bad about not telling them what the "lemonade" really was. It went against chivalry.
After Matthew finally made sense of what Lowen had quickly blurted out, he said, "Uh, I think that Lowen said that we just drank truth potions."
Serra sniffed indignantly and said, "That's the stupidest lie I've ever heard! Matthew, you're losing your touch!"
Matthew blinked. "I'm serious."
Serra scoffed. "Yeah, right. See this label here?" She pointed to a sticker on the canteen that read "Rubber Ducky". "Lowen made a new brand of lemonade called 'Rubber Ducky', not some stupid 'truth potion'!"
The thief sighed. "Tell you what," he said, "say 'I think that Erk is a stupid and ugly grouch'."
Serra raised an eyebrow. "What good would that do?"
"Just say it."
Serra pouted. "Fine! I think that Erk is a smart and handsome mage who I would gladly marry even though he's younger than me (1)." She then gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth like she had swore or something.
Matthew pointed accusingly at Serra. "See?"
The embarrassed cleric hung her head and blushed madly. "Fine, you're right. This a truth potion which is labelled, 'Rubber Ducky'… Wait a sec, how'd you know how I feel about Erk?"
Matthew casually said, "I peeked in your diary," like he said that to every girl in the army every day.
The pink-haired girl scowled in a way that rivalled Raven. "Diaries are not for no-good thieves to peek at, especially not mine!" She hoped that she would see some sort of hurt in Matthew's expression but found none. It was most probably due to the fact that he'd been called much worse than "no-good thief", most likely due to Hector and various other people whom patience and tolerance that he had also tried. He was rather used to it.
Serra, now with frustration that actually created a scowl WORSE than Raven's, crossed her arms over her chest and turned her back toward Matthew with a deliberate huff of indignity. Matthew sighed. He hated his job. Especially with Serra's tantrums. Well, maybe he could get out of this somehow... Putting on a suave demeanour by looking "cool", he sort of walked in some sort of weird way over to Serra who eyed him suspiciously, with good reason. But, she had to admit that he looked "handsome". Or maybe "hot" is more accurate. Or maybe even both.
Matthew continued to shorten the distance between him and Serra… step… by step… by step… by step… until his nose almost touched Serra's. Before she could stop herself, Serra blurted out, "This is kinda romantic." Then she clasped her hands over her mouth again. With another look of embarrassment, that if not equal to the first one it would be greater, she turned red as a beet and hung her head.
But then, she had the oddest sensation. A pair of warm fingers were placed on her chin. They lifted her own bright eyes to the sharp ones of Matthew's. "I think so too," he quietly breathed with an air of solemnity.
You know how some school girls are incurably romantic? Well, Serra's basically the same age as they are and being the incurably romantic girl she is on the inside, she sort of accidentally closed her eyes and "puckered up" to Matthew since some incurably romantic school girls always dream of kissing their "prince charming".
But Matthew, alas, became startled. Since his being a thief, he never really took a girl out. Except with Leila. In dark, disclosed and secret places. Such as Hector's closet. How far did they go?
-----
One day, Lord Uther decided to check his little brother's room and clean up a bit for him. He's a nice big brother. "He ought to have an orderly room once he finishes the foolishness with Eliwood. Ostia cannot afford to be deeply embedded in the troubles of other nations, not even with Phe-HOLY SMOKES! THIS IS ONE MESSY CLOSET!"
And indeed it was for it was stuffed to the brim with things such as hand axes, anvils, axe sharpeners, axe wax, and a few Wolf Beils. After accessing the assistance of 5... 10... 15... 20... And more men, the closet was cleared out and a neat stack of weapons was placed elsewhere so Hector wouldn't impale himself from accidentally wandering into a weapon (literally) because of its being moved.
After his assistants left, Uther took a look at the remnants in the closet. What he saw surprised him greatly. Picking it up and examining it confirmed the fact that it was a lock pick obviously belonging to a thief. Uther raised an eyebrow as to how a thief would get distracted enough to carelessly leave a lock pick behind. Then he saw a pair of boxers stuck in the corner. Upon taking them out, Uther realized that they were teddy bear boxers. At this, he did not raise an eyebrow but he did stare. For a long, long time. Then he stared again. And again. And again. And again, for good measure. Why would Hector have teddy bear boxers? It's not like he wears them... Does he?
When he finished staring at the boxers, he spotted something else. But he couldn't see what it was very well so he stuck his head further into the closet.
A few soldiers suddenly heard an agonising scream followed by the thud of armour hitting the ground. They quickly rushed into Hector's room with their weapons poised to attack any unwelcome intruder when they saw their unconscious marquess sprawled on the ground with a nosebleed and foam coming from his mouth.
Fearing the worst they all gathered around them. One of the pressed his ears against his chest. He gasped. "The worst has happened! Our marquess has died from the loss of too much blood and saliva!"
The other two soldiers sighed. One of them said, "You nitwit, you put your ear to our lord's armour! You know how thick those things are? And you can't die from the loss of 'too much saliva'!"
"Oh… No wonder he felt cold..."
Meanwhile the third soldier had taken this time to check his liege's wrist for a pulse. "He's alive!"
The other two sighed in relief. Then one of the soldiers said, "What could've caused Lord Uther to faint in such a way?"
Being the determined and loyal soldiers they were, they searched the room and all clues pointed to the closet. Gulping, all three of them stepped into Hector's closet and came right back out with nosebleeds. One of them shakily asked, "H-how did t-that get in t-there?"
Another shrugged. "I-I don't kn-know. I-it's not l-like Lord H-Hector n-needs it."
A long pause. The third soldier spoke. "D-does he?"
And that's how Uther's health condition got worse.
-----
Beats me.
Now, Matthew is a great thief. He understands things very well on missions and such. But the one thing that most men (if not all) never ever understand is women. The thief in question was no exception. He wasn't expecting the motives of a school girl. Therefore, Serra's action made him stumble backward. Upon doing so, he dropped the canteen of "lemonade". Serra, having noticed the Ostian spy's hesitance opened her eyes and found him on the ground on his back with his canteen of lemonade beside him.
"Here," she said in an uncharacteristically genuinely gentle voice, "I'll get that for you."
Before he could protest, Serra bent down and picked up the canteen. She was just about to hand it over to him when she noticed something. The pink-haired girl gave the canteen a little shake to confirm that the canteen was full to the brim. She realized with a start that Matthew might not have been telling her the truth. Knowing him, every word that he said could've been nothing but lies.
Serra was angry. She knew that Matthew was a bit insensitive at times but to do something like that? Toying with her fellings as thought they were nothing but simple little objects? That was just... just… just over the line, way over the line.
Straightening herself up and dropping the canteen, Serra glared at Matthew with eyes no longer bright with the usual deviousness but dark with deep loathing etched in every feature. "Matthew," she said quietly, "were you telling the truth?"
Before he could say a word, Serra turned away and walked quickly back to her tent. The feeling of hurt she had longed so long to see on Matthew's face was now there but she wasn't there to gloat about it or to tease about it. Somehow, that made everything seem very quiet and made it all very insignificant. Matthew sighed. Now he'd done it. Serra was definitely pissed off now. What a great time to mess up! Well, now he would have to make it up to Serra somehow. Giving the dropped container a quick glance, he bent over and picked it up, sighing. Life sucked.
-----
Lowen was just walking along to the next tent with his big package of flasks. Unless he was mistaken, it was Hector's tent. Beside it a pegasus was patiently grazing. 'Must be one of the Pegasus Sisters,' he thought.
He'd seen what they could do in the air. It made him wish that he was a... er... woman (which would require some changes) just so that he could try out those "sweet moves", as said by Sain, on the man-eating pegasi. Seriously. One of them, he thinks it was Florina's, took a good chunk of Hector's hair and would've given his skull a big crunch if not for gentle Florina's intervention.
Just as he was at the tent (far away from the pegasus) Hannah rushed by. "Halt!" she yelled out. "I have just figured out what the 'Rubber Duckies' really says! It's not 'Rubber Duckies'!"
Lowen sighed in relief. It felt odd thinking about how to convince Lord Hector to drink something called "Rubber Ducky". Huffing very audibly, Hannah gave Lowen another roll of stickers along with a piece of parchment. "This is what the spellbook really says and here's an explanation about it!" she said breathlessly. With that done, she ran off, puffing and puffing and puffing and puffing and pu-you get the idea.
The cavalier took a look at the explanation first.
-----
Truth Potions
There is something that everyone should know about truth potions. Actually, there are a few things.
i) Truth potions take a few moments to fully sink in and take its effect on its consumer. Do not be surprised by its delayed effect.
ii) There are periods in which the truth potion will cause its consumer to act in different degrees of honesty. In the first period it will simply be finding its way into the nervous system of its consumer's body. In the next one the honesty level will gradually rise until it maintains a certain level at which it will stay for some time. After that period is over the consumer will start to spew personal secrets and such left and right in a random order such as love interests. Then the truth potion will reach in the intestinal part of the consumer's body and I would rather not talk about what happens next.
iii) Most periods are quite short but in some cases they may be painfully long. It depends on the consumer's metabolism and the amount of certain ingredients in the truth potion. Since every individual has a different metabolism (2) and the amount of certain ingredients varies among all the ugly hags that practise such potion-making,
iv) In some consumers the first period involves radical lies that will become less and less of lies until it reaches the slope that raises in terms of honesty levels due to unique genetic patterns.
v) After answering nature's call, the effect of the truth potion on the consumer will be gone and-
-----
CRUNCH! MUNCH, MUNCH, MUNCH... CRUNCH! MUNCH, MUNCH, MUNCH...
Shrieking in a way a young man normally would not shriek in, Lowen jumped away from the pegasus and left behind remnants of the piece of parchment due to fear and surprise.
Then, settling himself on the side of the tent opposite to which the pegasus was, Lowen looked at the roll of stickers. Then he stared at it in dismay. Unfortunately for him, he knew French (plothole) so he felt quite perturbed as he stuck the stickers on the the flasks (3). Hopefully, Lord Hector and which ever one of the Pegasus Sisters was in there didn't.
The pegasus on the far side of the tent from where Lowen was (for safety purposes) peacefully munched on the grass as he would on the blue hair of a certain lord. Maybe he has; that would've certainly explained the loose strands of blue hair that Lowen would've found if he had cared to take a good, close look.
-----
Interestingly enough, when Matthew reached Serra's tent there was Lady Lyndis standing by the entrance with a worried expression. Upon seeing the thief, the lady dashed toward him. "Matthew, do you know what's wrong with Serra?" she asked. "I saw her as she ran in and she was crying."
"Uh..." Matthew didn't know what to say. How could he explain to Lyn that he had made her cry? And with the stupid truth potion still in effect, he's not going to be able to lie. Hopefully, the truth potion didn't stop him from dropping out parts of the truth. "I'm gonna go and fix her up. You better go off somewhere because it's gonna be messy."
As Lyn walked off with thoughts of worry in her mind, Matthew took a peek within the blindingly pink tent. Not only was it blindingly pink outside but inside too. Serra was supposed to have shared her outrageously spacious tent (she begged Hector for it) with Jaffar and Karel but... well... yeah... ... ... ... 'Nuff said. Right now, though, Matthew didn't really cared about the fact that if he spent an hour in there he would've gone blind. The reason was that the afore-mentioned cleric was hugging her knees while crying on her bed. "Serra," he said.
The mass of pink hair and white cloth draped a few blankets over itself. "I wish that the thief would go away and leave me alone!" she said over her tear-wrenching sobs.
Matthew sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot today. "Are you planning on ignoring me for the rest of your life?" he asked.
The blankets shifted. "I'm planning on ignoring an inSENSITIVE, unCARING, and ALL-AROUND MEAN, LOWLIFE PICK-POCKET for the REST, OF, MY, LIFE!" Serra yelled as the blankets started to quiver incontrollably.
Matthew surprised himself by wincing at each syllable that Serra had yelled out. Cautiously taking a few steps toward Serra he said, "Tell you what, if-"
"I'm not listening!" sobbed Serra in the most sing-song voice she could manage at the time.
"Just listen for a bit-"
"Is that a lowlife pick-pocket I hear?"
"Two minutes is-"
"I wish that the lowlife pick-pocket would just go away and never come back!"
Matthew stood limply with resignation. If the truth potion was still in effect that meant that Serra seriously didn't want Matthew to be there and that she meant all those things she said about him. It hurt.
But he still had one idea. "Look, just a minute or two and I'll go away and never come back."
The ball of blankets shifted again. "If the pick-pocket makes it quick I suppose I'll let it talk for a minute or two more," Serra said as she turned to face Matthew. Her eyes were horribly red and puffy and her face was damp with tears. It didn't do Matthew any good to see her like that.
"The lowlife pick-pocket just wants one chance, alright?" Matthew said, raising one finger. Serra said nothing. "The lowlife pick-pocket wants you to watch for just a moment."
It felt odd that he could say that about himself. Maybe he really did see himself as what Serra had called him. But then, why care now?
Matthew popped the lid off the canteen and poured it down a few inches from his mouth so that Serra would be able to see the liquid go into his mouth. Then he made a gulp that was deliberately loud. A few moments later he said, "Hey, the lemons really are mushy!"
Serra nodded in agreement but then she abruptly stopped and huffed.
'Alright,' thought Matthew, 'I've only got one shot at this and I hope I'll say what I think I'll say... I love you and I want to marry you and have 12 kids as the product of wild monkey --- (4) ... ... ...Okay, I think I'll have to wait a while for the truth potion to even start to sink in... I want to sleep with you naked and waste half my gold on preventing AIDS... Cripes, I hope that that's not it... I want to wear your undergarments... I'm going to have nightmares about that one ... I'm sorry that I made you cry. I really am. I didn't really lie that much. I really do think that you're a nice girl... Shoot, how long does it take? ... Oh wait, I think that was it...'
As hard as she tried, she couldn't help but watch Matthew in curiosity as he stumbled over his thoughts. She had never said so but she always admired how Matthew handled all sorts of situations with ease. But now she observed him as he was struggling with one of the hardest problems ever.
Girl problems. Duh.
Matthew finished his thinking and took a deep breath as Serra intently watched him. "I'm sorry that I made you cry. I really am. I didn't really lie that much. I really do think that you're a nice girl."
Serra spoke. "I guess that I was a bit too sensitive. I've always withstood your jokes and I've even laughed with you on rare occasions." Then with a heave, she to yanked off the blankets. "Well, I'm going to look for my ring now. Want to help?"
"I know where it is," said Matthew suddenly.
"Hmpf!" pouted Serra. "I should've known! You stole it didn't you?"
"I didn't steal it!" exclaimed Matthew as he feverishly shook his head.
"Oh..." Serra relaxed.
"I sold it!" yelled out the poor thief as he tried to contain the fact.
"What?!" Serra frowned.
"It fetched a lot of money and I used it all to buy macaroni for macaroni sculptures!" ... This was not Matthew's lucky day.
"You sold my ring for MACARONI?" shouted Serra. She was angry. Yup. Real angry. "YOU STUPID THIEF!"
Matthew tore out of the tent. Luckily for him, he was a thief and was well-trained in getaways. Unluckily for him, Serra was as equally angry as he was equally well-trained. As the truth potion hit Matthew's intestines, he started to spew out secrets as he ran. "I stuck brocoli in Hector's pack because Uther said that it was good for him!"
Within a tent, Hector dug deep into his pack and found a few pounds of brocoli as sweet Florina peered over his shoulder.
"I think that coconuts are cool! I wear teddy bear boxers! Jaffar is just plain creepy! And I hate him for killing Leila!"
From wherever he was, Jaffar yanked out a couple of daggers and started sharpening them as Nino stood beside him. To this day, she still wonders why he stopped like that.
"Hector has chest hair! Oswin wears eyeshadow!"
Oswin stopped putting purple eyeshadow on his eyelids. He looked... scary.
"Guy is going to do my laundry for three months straight! I've lost my v-"
Well, you get the idea of what Matthew was saying as he ran away from Serra. But let me finish that last sentence.
"-valise!"
There. Hm? What? ... What'd YOU think that word was?
Well, anyway, a new problem for Matthew arised. He had to go. The truth potion got through his intestines pretty quickly and... yeah. So now he was putting his hands... somewhere as he ran and looked for a bush. Then he stopped and looked behind himself. He realized that there was no Serra in sight. But what was there was a clump of bushes. Slowly approaching the bushes as though it could've reared up and bit his head off, he settled himself into them. Just as he was thinking about his sweet relief Serra popped into view.
"There you are! I've been looking all over for y-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Serra covered her eyes with her hands as she screamed.
Matthew screamed too because no matter who you are, you're always going to be a modesty freak. Quickly he shuffled around in the bushes and jumped out. With his pants on, mind you. Then he saw Serra pointing at the bushes. "THERE'S AN INSECT THERE!" she cried.
The thief took a look. Yup, there was an insect there. However, it was no bigger than the periods I've used to end my sentences. Matthew flicked it away. The cleric threw herself onto Matthew. "YOU'RE MY HERO! ... AND I THINK THAT HECTOR HAS A NICE BUTT!"
At the first half of the sentence the Ostian spy felt relieved but odd. At the second half he wasn't so relieved and he definitely felt odd. But it was kinda nice huddling with Serra. Very nice indeed. He felt at peace. Everything felt perfect.
"ERK ALSO HAS A NICE BUTT!"
Except for 'em comments. But when you've been lapping up a truth potion it doesn't matter much.
"LUCIUS SHOULD DO PLASTIC SURGERY FOR HIS TORSO!"
Wherever the heck he was, Lucius turned to face Raven. "What do you think of me wearing a ---?"
Raven blinked. Then he stared. And stared. And stared. Then he got a nosebleed.
But there are those limits...
Chapter End -----
(1) I think that I read somewhere that Serra's sixteen and Erk's fifteen. Or maybe I'm wrong. Shoot me.
(2) At least I THINK that I heard that during health class about eating disorders.
(3) Anybody wanna guess the next name of the truth potions? I'll give you a hint, it's the name of a real cologne. I don't think that it's actually well-known or anything.
(4) Maybe Matthew really does want to. Hee hee.
-----
Nils: ... Why'd you start with a MatthewXSerra kind of thing? It's not very popular! Rewrite the whole thing! Stick Serra with Erk instead! Or Oswin!
…
Nils: What?
Well, I WAS kind of debating if I should stick Serra with Erk instead of Matthew but I don't think that Erk's the kind of guy who would be shrewd enough to pull off a stunt like that. Anyway, please review while I S L O W L Y write up a chapter (this chapter took me since July) that will overthrow my whole story and turn it into something worse than it already is (if possible)! And I'm sorry for the last parts. I rushed through them because I was getting annoyed by the length. And feel free to give me advice/criticism. I need it. Sorry about leaving the hole in the story in the middle of the story where Lowen learns about rubber duckies. I forgot to fill it in.
Nils: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT A SECOND! If Matthew never drank the stupid thing till later then how'd he know that the lemons were mooshy?
... Plothole.
PS: Feel free to call me "Umbrella". I'll just use it as an excuse to pound the living daylights out of Nils.
Nils: I heard that!