Wow, 50 reviews! Thank you guys. The visitor count has also doubled! What happened? Was there a promotion I wasn't aware of? Or a lot of people suddenly got interested?
BY THE WAY, Shovel Knight has a cameo in Yooka Laylee, with a voice! His voice lines consist of "oh", "yo", "oho", "hoho yo", and the like, voiced by Sean Velasco. It's how SK sounds like according to YCG. It's so funny! Shovel Knight is the official king of cameos.
To Monkey999Boy: Yes, they will have to slay the innocent banana. The spooky banana is a very dangerous banana and it needs to be eaten before it becomes radioactive.
To Saturdaylemon: Yeah, mistakes were made. I wasn't exactly paying attention to the amount of screwups in the previous chapter, but I assure you, not only the knights made big mistakes. And nice! You got the TF2 reference! Anart is probably the Medic, only with magical powers, talent for embroidery, and deadly loyalty. Haha!
To Doodle Knight: Thank you for such kind words, hero of doodles! Many have expressed a love for my collection of manuscripts and written literature of many brave and loving knights of the past!
To MultiShipper: There is one of King Knight near the end :)
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R is for reality.
Mona crossed her arms and blew a stray strand of bluish hair off her face. She tucked it behind her flower crown and smoothed her elegant wedding dress, then stared blankly at the scene before her. It was a confused if not completely terrified crowd, a former band of insurgents suddenly scrambling for their greatest weapon courtesy of the Magicist's mentally unhinged cousin, an offended and somehow uninvited specter (she swore she wrote his name in the invitations, but maybe he had more enemies than friends, which isn't really so surprising), and her ten more seconds of peace and really would be husband furiously screeching.
By now the rebels couldn't find their magic weapon. Anart himself was instead weeded out from the crowd and forcefully pulled out.
"Gods damn it, knights, can't a gentleman have his rest?" Anart hurriedly fixed the utter fashion disaster that was his dark but decent violet suit and trousers and utterly eye-offending golden shoes. His glance fell on the hissing reaper, and he turned back to his friends with brows knit lightly. "I thought you already killed that guy?"
"Mona! S'il te plaît! It's a matter of life and death!" Propeller Knight begged. "You're the only one that can stop Plague Knight and Specter Knight! I can't send my Hoverhafts in there without casualties!"
"Indeed. I can pick up Plague Knight and blackmail the ghost."
"Quoi? Mona. No one can blackmail Sp-"
Mona lifted a hand to shush the captain. "Let me count to ten before I start."
One.
"I demand respect!" Specter Knight yelled, the yellow flames of his palms intensifying into bright white. His ghost servant pulled and held onto the tapering ends of his cloak, her hands beginning to get sore from the force. The corroded sword she had picked up before was lying several feet away from her.
"Master, please stop being so angry! People will die!"
Specter Knight snapped. "Oh yes, people will die if THIS LITTLE BIRD DIDN'T APOLOGIZE!"
Two.
A second nitrogen triiodide-cluster bomb reappeared in Plague Knight's hand. He let it roll it at the two phantoms. Mitzi yelped, let go of her master's cloak, and put her arms up to shield herself from yet another large explosion. Specter Knight flew away, dragging along his terrified maidservant.
Okay. Enough.
Mona marched to the middle of the mess, picked up the bomb, and chucked it out and away from the ceremony proper, and faced Plaguey with a glare of doom. She crossed her arms, allowing the noise to die down. The small gourd-shaped bomb let loose clusters of intensely heated volatile explosions. Then, she picked up the small alchemist and held him up like a baby.
"I invited Specter Knight." Mona spoke in a low tone.
Literally everyone else gasped.
"... you did?" Specter Knight softly muttered. "When was the last time I was invited to ceremonies like this? I… don't remember."
"Master, you don't have to!"
"If he was invited, he would have been his edgy smelly self!" Plague Knight huffed and crosses his arms, pouting under the mask.
"I'd specifically request him to not be edgy and smelly. I have my ways." She tapped her foot on the floor and stared at his eyeholes as she tried to send him a telepathic message about the flask game. If he loves playing my game he better behave in front of me.
"Oooohhhkay, can everyone just calm down now." The Bard-slash-priest-slash-probably not a yacht god held his arms up. "We can start over... and forget this entire thing-"
"I can cast a spell for us to start over! Ahahahaha! I CAN GET BETTER CLOTHES TOO!" Anart cackled as his hands started glowing green. A magic wand with a small five-point star hurriedly glued at the end of it appeared in his hand. "Este ivi, seit vor rewin…"
"Sorcerer! Please listen to the Bard!" "Hey, yo, I'm in charge here! I can rewind time on my own!" "Anart, wait!" "Anart wait for me I still have to kill Specter Knight, I have found it!" "I'll just say this since you'll forget anyway, I LOVE HER SO MUCH!" "YOU DARE?!"
There was a swelling sound of energy charging, followed by white light from magical water appearing from thin air and then a hurt scream from the apparition.
Anart held his wand aloft, ignorant of the murder happening behind him. A bright yellow light shone from the wizard's wand. "Avisal!"
/*one wave of a wand later*/
"... I do!" Plague Knight grinned happily. Finally, finally! They're husband and wife!
"I am so proud of you, mon petit ami." Propeller Knight cried small tears of joy. He dabbed his handkerchief on his eyes gently.
"You may now kiss." The Bard muttered before closing his book.
Kiss.
Albrecht frowned at everything and whispered to Propeller Knight. "Vhy do I feel like zhis has happened before?" He then pointed to a tall blond-haired gentleman with a red longcoat, a wide-brimmed hat, pale face, an awkward smile, and a general aura of suspicious activity. "And who zhe hell is zhat?"
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R is for reference.
"Oho, yo, ho ho!" Shovel Knight wailed in the pillow-lined room. His arms were in an oversized white jacket and were in a crossed position. Its long sleeves were tightly strapped to his body. He was probably saying 'I'm not insane, I swear!' and yet no one can understand him. "OHO HO HO OH YO YOW."
"I'm sorry, Shield Knight, but he's lost it." Black Knight sighed. "I always thought of him to pass in the blaze of glory. Not in the insane asylum."
"He was rambling about adventuring too much before this happened, Black Knight!" The lady in red armor slammed her fist on the table. She turned to the giant knight beside her and pouted.
The Stalwart Knight of Ice and Snow grunted. "Shield Knight. What damage has been done cannot be undone."
"He was talking normally before last week…" Shield Knight hung her head and breathed out deeply. "He was weird then…"
Polar Knight placed a large hand upon her back and softly spoke. "Tell me what he was saying."
Her words came out rapidly. "He was saying how he got lost in a foreign world to the east," she gestured to her right as if to stress her point, "and he encountered a young girl with an axe with some unknown magical power. He fled, and crossed paths with an equally lost traveller with blue skin, black eyes, and orange and red mantle. He made friends with this mysterious warrior, talked with the girl, and then parted ways. After that he fought a god, raced against three talking toads, played gun tennis, and told of his travels to young warriors and passed out when he was hit in the head. He then journeyed on to find a lizard and a bird who hooted and hissed at each other."
Black Knight and Polar Knight both stared at her with raised brows.
"That's what he said."
"Yo ho! Oho oh yo yo ho!" Shovel Knight shouted from inside his room. "Ho ho yo oh!"
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R is for roast chicken.
"Since Plague Knight isn't coming to our morning meeting to cook for us," King Knight announced, standing up and gesturing wildly, "I have honorably commissioned Propeller Knight to cook us the food, which is roast turkey. Unfortunately…"
The rest of the Order glanced at the empty chairs between Specter Knight and Mole Knight.
"Propeller Knight is… preoccupied. Good thing he sent someone to get us all roast turkey and take care of the catering-"
The doors of the hallway suddenly burst open. Dozens of Hoverhafts and Hover Meanies with platters, baskets, and drinks droned into the mess hall, led by no one else other than the scary Hoverhaft always tailing the Frenchman.
"Ve have brought all zhe roast chicken you need." Albrecht announced as his men systematically laid down platters and forks and knives.
"Thank you, now trot along now-" King Knight made a shooing gesture.
"Nein! Ve vill bring back all zhe utensils and plates back to zhe Flying Machine vhezer you like it or not!"
Bread and coffee were then politely placed before everyone in woven baskets and porcelain cups. Specter Knight reached immediately for bread. Mole Knight prodded at the weird porous orange object in his basket.
"What's this?" The anthropologist asked, breaking off a piece of it and putting it in his mouth.
Albrecht coughed a little before speaking. "Zhose are coffee, pain au chocolat, lye bread, garlic bread, and zhat zhing you are poking is a recipe from meine Mutter, bread made with carrots and potatoes! DO YOU LIKE ZHEM?!"
"Yes." Specter Knight flatly answered. All of the garlic bread in his basket had disappeared.
"How did you… wa?" Tinker Knight gestured to the spook's basket and looked at Treasure Knight.
"Whrrt thrr frrk. Hrrw did thrrt happrn?"
"This tastes horrible. It's like mashed potato without spices..." King Knight spat out the carrot-potato bread.
"Well! Your mother's recipe is quite delicious." Mole Knight interrupted, swallowing the strange bread. "Genuinely!"
"I shall pass zhat compliment on, vhen zhe Enchantress lets us send letters home."
"Oh. Well, I hope you can sneak some to France and the German States."
"Vell." He wheezed for a moment, then quickly hid the spots of red on his palm. He nonchalantly wiped it on the leather on his arm. "Here's zhe roast chicken."
Indeed, roast chicken was plopped down on everyone's platters. Only Polar Knight and Treasure Knight got two entire chickens while everyone else only got parts.
"We specifically asked for roast turkey!" King Knight started his bitch fit, only to be shut down instantly.
"You'll eat your food, because if you don't, I vill kick your balls!"
The usurper stood up and banged his fist on the table. "You have no right to yell at and threaten royalty! I am a king and you are only a lowly knight!"
"Dummkopf, I vas born vizh Prussian blue blood!" He brought out an hourglass and slammed it on the table with all his strength. "Zince zhis is a morning meeting, I only allow forty-five minutes to finish your food. If you can't finish your food under zhe time limit, I vill kill you."
"I wish our meetings would be as organized as this." Polar Knight quipped. "There is a keeper of peace while we all move forward."
No wonder King Knight has nightmares about these two flying men.
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R is for reject.
Specter Knight wanted to repeatedly bump his head repeatedly on the table, hoping that it would kill him by crushing his skull. But then he remembered he just got resurrected, so dying would take more effort than just attempting to hit his head until he died like looking for a friend and getting caught in a trap-
"What's that?" King Knight looked over the young phantom's shoulder, peering at the neat and thick resume a certain 'Baz' sent to the newly-formed Order of No Quarter. Yeah, we shouldn't have put up flyers and publication materials for new members. "What kinds of people are we getting?"
"Stupid ones." The ghost gestured stiffly at the thick application papers. "I will not tolerate any more dull and unintelligent members of the Order of No Quarter. One is one too much."
"... there's only the two of us. What are you talking about?"
Specter Knight grabbed the 'rejected' stamp and immediately banged it mightily on the Baz' resumé's front paper. He flung the folder away and then stamped the next one as well. He angrily threw that one to the door and screeched at the monarch. "No more!"
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R is for reverse.
"... yeah, he's very generous! He gives out nice encouragement when we first started here!" The Hover Meanie idly twirled his hood's tapered end. "He's so nice and kind and wouldn't hurt a fly!"
"And you don't mind not being paid?" Tinker Knight said in a monotone voice. He tightened the nut on the Hover Meanie's propeller blade and spun the fan around. "Propeller Knight is in the Order of No Quarter and I'm shocked you still work for him."
"As long as I get food. We're not exactly home now and we have to conserve our resources so we're all just fine with surviving, monsieur." He shrugged. "I still want to go home, though."
"I can relate." Tinker Knight murmured, so focused on fixing the Hover Meanie's defective propelling device that he didn't hear the crisp steps of thick boot soles.
"Is the repair going well?" A light and soothing voice chimed in from behind the engineer. Tinker Knight almost bashed his wrench at the tall gentleman's hip if it weren't for the distance. Propeller Knight just laughed at the cute little display of flailing and general clumsiness the tiny man did. The engineer, understandably, huffed and pouted from behind his welding mask.
"You spooked me!"
"And you should stop being so jumpy. Specter Knight wasn't even trying to scare you and he said you fell off your stool!" The Frenchman started laughing his annoying French laugh and Tinker Knight couldn't find a reason why he can't just wreck the carefully-designed and weakly protected miniature machine on top of the noble's head. But then he remembered that a long time ago, Propeller Knight said that Albrecht said that his Kaiser said that the Westphalian Order of Technology said that their engineers had greatly decreased the weight of an otherwise deadly helmet and increased the energy efficiency and directional mobility and managed to fit rotors, an entire engine to control cyclic pitch, anti-torque, hovering, steering, and speed control into a head-sized helmet and handles, yada yada yada technobabble.
Basically he couldn't punch it because it was improved by German engineers as genius as he was. And it would utterly ruin the captain's nice face, but yeah, he still wanted to break his nose. It would make the Frenchman even more French, though. And there's the fact Tinker Knight can't even jump up to the flyboy's height.
"Well, it's fixed. I still have to run tes-"
"Don't fly above a fan again, alright?" The Frenchman suddenly crooned at the Hover Meanie. "You would have died there if I didn't notice soon enough!" Then he gasped with eyes wide and smile fading away as quickly as it came. His hazel orbs stared at the large turning propeller within sight for a long time.
The silence from the Airship Frenchie was both relaxing and concerning. But then when he spoke...
"Have you ever thought that the coolest thing about propeller blades is you can just throw something you don't like into it and it will take care of it for you?"
Tinker Knight froze, his overworking but not necessarily helpful imagination instantly assuming control of his brain.
His emerald-colored jacket and shimmering golden buttons were marred by the dark streaks, smeared on him by his own bloody fingers. The ends of his sleeves and the entirety of his dark gloves were stained maroon when he had dipped his hands in the gaping avulsions and deep stab wounds in warm flesh. The heat of the freshly-killed corpse had almost burned his skin, and it had felt like tongues of flames licking at his skin, but the rush of bright red had made his smile grow despite the searing pain. The white spats of his shoes were covered with a thin layer of congealed blood, and his knees were soaked in red. When he stood up, he turned to the bloody propeller fan, still turning as someone hosed water on its cap and boss, preventing it from losing its turning speed and momentum. The captain's Hoverhafts held a quivering man, his face grimy and his dirty hair disheveled, as if he was disturbed from sleep and brought to the execution immediately. They kept him in place even if the captive thrashed violently to try to escape.
The captain nodded with a sadistic grin, and the man was pushed into the moving fan.
Blood sprayed onto the captain's face, and he even licked off the drops of blood that got on his lips.
"I don't think I'll sleep…" Tinker Knight murmured.
"Pourquoi?" Propeller Knight asked innocently. The inventor just glared at him.
"The deadly propeller."
Yet the Frenchman still couldn't help but spout more thoughts. "But isn't that why they are called 'choppers'?"
"SHUSH. FOR THE LOVE OF THE YACHT GODS BLEACH MY BRAIN."
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R is for rune.
"Look at the runes I carved by hand!" Anart gleefully boasted to One, showing off the black wand's thick shaft at the latter's face. "I'm truly dexterous, am I not? My needlework helped me with the accuracy of the rune spells!"
"I'm sorry, but where are the wands we commissioned from you, sorcerer?" One sighed.
"This is it!" The gentleman pushed his wild bangs up and behind his head and pointed to six other copies of the same wand. "This is for you," he pushed the wand in his hand into One's palm, "and this for you," he grabbed a second wand and plopped it into Two's hand, "and the rest for you."
Anart proceeded to drop the wands that he totally didn't copy with a replication spell into the waiting hands of the insurgent leaders.
"What's this?" Seven asked, raising a brow at the sorcerer.
"They're wands." Anart narrowed his eyes and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.
"I mean, what are they used for?"
The wizard chuckled, and snapped his finger. A smoke cloud appeared behind him, and as the puffs dissipated in air, a trapped Invisishade floated aimlessly in its glass cage.
"And…?" Seven continued with his brow still up. Anart responded by snatching his wand from his hand and then kicking the glass cage. The panel shattered, and as the Invisishade attempted to float out, he aimed the wand at point blank and fired it.
The Invisishade's black eyes squeezed shut and its form trembled and faded before it exploded into corporeal glitter.
Anart smirked at the knights assembled before him. "So? You wanted to kill Specter Knight, I had someone bring me one of the lighting balls from the Hall of Champions and reverse-engineered it to make this! Aren't you excited?! If it can kill ghosts, it can kill Specter Knight!"
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R is for retake.
"Look, Four, I got a letter from my little sister Five." Siegfried giggled a bit when the messenger pigeon flew by the rail of the balcony. The highest in rank of the Society grinned stupidly at his subordinate of a sort, to which Feliks crossed his arms.
"Siegfried, I'm going to speak as your friend here. You are a grownup, and you really should stop embarrassing your sister." Feliks spoke lowly.
"Have I told you about the time when she was still around four years old-"
"One." Four interrupted.
"Alright, alright." One carefully extracted the roll of paper from the pigeon's leg and read the extremely formal letter.
All points around Pridemoor Keep have been captured and is in the process of fortification. At the western part are Six and Seven, Two has amassed a large army at the south, and as planned Three and I have captured the northern points. If the pretender flees to the east, you and Four shall intercept. There might be possible hiding points so Two and Seven will occupy the keep first before we put our true King back on the throne.
We have started forming an encirclement around the keep that will act as a barrier and a connector of sorts. I hope your plan goes well.
"They're all following the operation to the letter." Siegfried smiled softly. "And before the end of winter Pridemoor is ours, and after that…"
"There's no rest, One. To the east is the Lich Yard and we have to take it back swiftly from the Apparition. It would be harder than a simple coup d'etat, and we have to shift the ranks around a bit for your mental health."
"I'd still like Five stay in propaganda. I don't want her taking my place and duties against anyone in the Order of No Quarter. "
"I know. It's already unsafe to have two siblings in the high ranks. But she is her own leader now. She can handle it."
One breathed out, slouching forward. "I hope so. Please hand me some paper, a quill, and ink."
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R is for risky.
Anart almost spat out his tea in an ungentlemanly manner when he saw hordes of moles all emerge from their tunnels simultaneously. Within their whiskery mouths were pieces of torn paper, and the sorcerer couldn't help but notice the puzzle piece-like pieces that were truly intended to be puzzle pieces.
He watched the moles shuffle around, putting their respective papers in an arranged manner, and Anart could make out the rectangular shape and scribbles on the paper. He swayed from side to side as he impatiently waited for the moles to finish their work. He turned to his unfinished tea and instantly decided on finishing it before anything else.
Once he sipped the last of the minty green tea, he glanced back at the moles. Now he really spat out the tea, the sight of moles sitting in neat rows beside the whole letter like behaved children completely taking him by surprise. After an intense moment of quieting down his pounding heart he actually took to reading the message in the paper bits. It was a short message in printed letters.
I know you are a sorcerer. And I know you hate the Enchantress. I have vital information about her past and life, if that term even applies to her. It is important in your operations, yes?
Anart giggled in excitement, his laugh turning into a borderline evil cackle. A quill, some ink, and a piece of paper materialized out of a pink orb in his hand, and then he started scribbling his answer on it.
I am interested in your offer. Write me!
Are you also interested in buying some tailored clothes? I have jackets, cloaks, and coats with various designs such as floral, celestial, nature, air, fire, and water. I also accept custom outfits. I have silk, leather, velvet, mink, fleece, wool, fur, coarse, you name it.
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R is for rumor.
Specter Knight adjusted the brim of his black hat, its wide brim completely shrouding his pale face in shadow. He had traded his flashy red coat for a heavy dark gray one. The mid-autumn wind was coldly blowing at the townsfolk. Windows were shut, and every person outside was wearing cloaks. The occasional bird person had their feathers fluffed to trap more heat. Horse men preferred to stay in their stables.
The ghost walked along the commoners. He could smell the aroma of fresh bread loaves from the bakery, hear the children playing in patches of dry leaves, and simply watch the couples snuggling together. In this form, anything good can happen, such a shame he had to be spied on by a pair of omnipresent eyes when he wanted to visit this place.
So peaceful. The folk sometimes went up to talk to him, a strange traveller who periodically came to the town for bread. He almost considered buying some trinkets to avoid being the "bread wanderer". Maybe make some connections with the folk to seem a little more human. A possible good thing to start with a social life was matchmaking. Just to get the girls off his heels. There was already someone. Yet he can't be with that someone anyway.
But it was just all an elaborate game of pretend. All was just a ruse, true reflection of his manipulative tendency and sad existence. How he wished to be truly alive again, to breathe, have a heartbeat, have warm flesh, fall in love, get heartbroken, miss loved ones, start a music and dance studio, maybe have lots of children, eat all the garlic bread he liked, make many friends, die peacefully, and move on to the next life without so much guilt and unfinished business.
What was the point of eternal undeath if these things were out of reach? All of the time in the world to spill oceans of blood and get drunk with it, something like an addictive psychedelic drug that needed more after each dose.
"And we'll circle the keep, and everything will be finished before the end of winter!"
The reaper turned his ear to the passing knights, smiles on their faces. The spectral auras around them were bright and cheerful colors like exciting green and passionate orange. They were very young, a little too young for soldier duty. Two of them were noisy twins. One was a particularly boisterous lad. The rest were chatting along.
A group of chipper, carefree knights.
Raises some memories.
"And when we're finished, Five said we'll take on the Lich Yard and beat all those ghosts to the heavens!"
"How is she sure we can do that?"
"The Seven Knights got some special magic from a crazy-ass person from the west and got them some ghost-killing devices!" The obnoxious knight could almost jump to the moon with excitement. "Isn't that amazing?"
What? No! I… can still get killed?
The others raised their brows.
"You're shitting me."
"But it's true! Five won't lie to us! If they had to, they'll kill the Apparition!"
Specter Knight glanced at his shaking hands, before glaring back at the group sharply and walking away from them briskly, heading to the direction of the eastern gate.
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R is for repayment.
The large sack full of gold coins wasn't enough to stop the bird person from vomiting at the sight of his building. It was enough to buy two castles but not so helpful for making the sight inside prettier. He could only gag and feel his stomach retching at the sight of his shop, forcing his bird beak closed to stop regurgitating the worms he had eaten for breakfast earlier.
Many of the large thick tables were overturned and smashed. Splinters of varnished wood littered the red, sticky floor. Shards, both big and small, of porcelain plates, cups, glass mugs, and unfinished bits of food were scattered across the area, and the stains of wine, whiskey, and something other than liquor or sauce were on the floorboards and walls. Large holes were everywhere, as if someone very strong had punched through it. One hole, though, was filled with bits of bone and brain.
Pools and trails of blood made the entire building smell like rust and shit, and the sight of messily dismembered corpses made it look like a scene of utterly cruel murder. The dead bodies all belonged to elderly men who had all once served at the civil guard, all granted honorable discharge and were celebrating their decades of service to the kingdom. Their arms were ripped off with nothing but sheer pulling force, and one of them had their insides scooped out.
There had been one survivor before the bird person arrived, and sadly he died moments before he came. It was a merciful death, for his legs were shattered and his ribs broken.
He had said that they were punished because they had battered a small puppy to death many, many years ago and they could only faintly remember it.
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R is for responsible.
Propeller Knight walked slowly through the corridors of the engine crew's quarters, trying his damnedest to stay upright and not buckle from the sudden heavy weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Just one talk to explain myself, please, he thought to clenched his teeth at the horrible nightmare that was the day before. Maybe if he didn't have an outburst at his parents, the crew would still be safe-
"We're actually staying here? In this desolate place?!"
"I don't like it here!"
"It's horrible here! There's an evil witch, I don't like it, I want to go home!"
"But we can't leave. The captain has said that if we leave, we all die."
"I'd rather be executed at home than stay here forever!"
The airship's captain pressed his back to the wall, keeping his body hidden from anyone. He nodded a little to the last sentence. He would rather die in France than in this unknown valley.
"I don't like it here, I'd rather die than stay here."
"Why did this happen to us?"
"Sacrebleu. It's just his fault!"
Propeller Knight gasped a little. That was… directed at him. Not anyone else. He felt his breathing start to become labored as the walls, the floor, the doors, and even the faint nightlights started to warp and close in around him.
"If anything, blame him, not us."
"You're right."
"Do we really have to blame him?"
"... yes."
He sprinted away, not caring about the sound of his heavy soles on the metal floor.
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R is for return.
The Stalwart brought out the red and gold yarn scarf from his drawer, sighing deeply at the unfinished article. The knitting needles were still there. The scarf only needed a pinch of length for it to be completed. Sadly, the recipient was presumed dead.
"I bring good news, Polar Knight." The Tundread reported. Polar Knight raised a brow. "It is about Shield Knight. We have sightings of her in the Armor Outpost. We have confirmed it is her, for she had been with Shovel Knight."
There was a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest that washed his mind and soul, and for the first time in years, he felt the corners of his lips curl up in a soft, relieved smile. His gaze shifted from the Tundread to the warm scarf in his hand.
He then quietly continued his knitting, for it only needed a pinch of length for it to be completed.
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R is for repeat.
Respect was a very honorable term in the Japanese language. It rung of honor.
And in this case, Mole Knight accidentally got the respect of the Liquid Samurai through… whatever happened. And the knight was happy he could conduct an ethnography in an easier manner.
"Alright," Mole Knight explained to the rows of formally seated samurai, "you can understand English, yes?"
"Hai!" came the collective answer.
"And you can't speak English, yeah. So, repeat after me. 'It's delicious'."
"Sore wa oishīdesu!"
"Hello."
"Konnichiwa!"
"Wurst."
There was a deadly silence. The Japanese mumbled among themselves.
"Vurusuto…?"
Mole Knight hurriedly wrote it down. Wurst doesn't exist in Japanese culture! If confronted with a foreign concept they could create a new word based on it with their own phonology.
Eureka!
Well, it was one more thing to show his students…
If they wake up.
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R is for ramen.
Ao let its amorphous weapon dissolve into its hand as soon as its small violet gaze fell on a large white and blue porcelain bowl of yellow noodles and soup that Mole Knight totally didn't set up for his research.
Its tiny purple eyes were looking intently at the bowl of hot noodle soup thing. There were short chopsticks beside it, and the blue shifter couldn't help but sit down before it.
It raised a liquid finger and repeatedly tapped lightly at the hot bowl's lip. Its free hand took the two sticks, a vague memory in its tiny liquid heart lighting up. It held the sticks within its four fingers in such a way that it could grasp small objects. It placed its pitch black face over the bowl, smelling the warm vapor. It didn't notice Aka with crossed arms and a frown behind. Midori was hanging over the two, silently watching in case of a loud telling-off.
"Uwaa!" Ao blubbed happily, dunking its face into the bowl, not minding the heat. Two strands of noodles entered its mouth, and it abruptly pulled its head up. Its eyes were now pinprick and nigh invisible.
Aka put its hand on Ao's shoulder, and then hollered at the catatonic samurai.
"Ao! Nani wo shite iru?!"
The red swordsman glared at the unmoving shifter for a long moment before it started to shake the other in sudden concern. Ao's arms flapped around.
"Kora Ao! Ao! Nani wo-"
Ao abruptly turned its head with a pair of happy eyes. "Sore wa… oishīdesu!"
Aka blinked. "Huh?"
"Sore, sore, sore, sore! Umai, umai, umaize!" Ao gurgled incomprehensibly at the bowl of ramen.
"S-sōdesu ka...?" Aka sat beside the rambling warrior and dunked its face into the bowl. It gasped gleefully for once and exclaimed its new favorite… food's name? What's food?
"Haaa! Oishi!" Aka smiled for the first time in history.
Midori's interest was piqued, and it dropped off the ceiling to investigate. "Nani-"
"Uwaaa!" Ao gave the archer the bowl. Midori hesitantly took the chopsticks and prodded at the ruined noodles.
Midori glared up at the two giddy warriors and shoved a piece of noodle into its mouth. It pricked up and gasped. "Sore wa oishīdesu!"
Ao gleefully waved its arms around. "Hai, hai! Umaiiiiii!"
The Enchantress' brows knit together and her teeth clenched. She prepared a small sphere of magic and let it float to the three samurai, her dissolution spell pulsing with slow and painful power.
A second red Liquid Samurai stormed in, a serious look in its eyes. Many others followed before it. In fact, the majority of all the samurais trailed behind because for the first time in history an Aka behaved out of-
"Huh? Nani?" The second swordsman looked at the ruined noodles, and dipped its finger in the thin soup. It stared at the dripping soup.
"Sore wa oishīdesu!" Ao cheerfully quipped.
"Sōdesu ne?"
"Mm, hai!" Ao placed its hand upon the other's head to show it its own memories, the sheer new and lovely intensity of a thing called flavor…
The witch hissed and took back her spell, the orb fading away into a mere harmless wisp. The memories have flowed.
There was no point stopping the news of a mysterious bowl of ramen that tasted great.
.
R is for restore.
"If there's anything to restore, it's my rule, it's my right to dominion!" King Knight screamed at his war ministers, throwing his scroll on the sand table, knocking over the red wooden stand pieces shaped like a sword and spear crossed together with a gladiolus flower, the insignia of the revolts, that surrounded the immediate area of the Pridemoor Keep. His eyes were wide and his breathing was deep, his heart pounding away at the part of his life that surfaced before his very eyes.
The young servant boy yelped as a large hand struck his left cheek hard. The poor boy instinctively covered his stinging cheek.
That would be the one hundred eighty-seventh slap.
"If there's anything to restore, it's my son's welfare. I don't want you to be around him, bastard son." The nobleman hissed at the boy, even sparing some time to knee the fragile boy's gut. He tumbled to the floor, coughing out blood. The boy's amber eyes flooded with tears at the sight of the red spots on the floor. His vision blurred whenever he moved.
"I'm… sorry, sir."
But it wasn't enough for the grown-up. He grabbed the boy's platinum blond hair and lifted him up with it. "And look what you have done to the floor!"
"I'm sorry!" You kicked me, he thought, and he almost blurted it out if it weren't for his entire body falling yet again to the cold, hard floor. A flare of hatred burned in his soul. If I could, I'd have your decaying body publicly displayed.
"I want you to clean my office, I want it spotless by the time I come back." The nobleman rapidly ordered. "If you haven't done that when I come back, that would be forty lashes."
"But, sire, our military is clearly unfit for fighting against the sheer numbers of the insurgents! Every town they conquer, they systematically eliminate our supporters! All of them were gibbeted! Even the women, dear gods, the women! They publicly displayed all their dead bodies! They weed out the soldiers loyal to us and unhesitatingly break their legs! And with every territory gained, their army swells, and ours shrinks!"
"Then think of a way to reverse it!" King Knight yelled as loud as he could.
He pulled the unlocked table drawer to rummage through it. Trash was everywhere, in places he couldn't simply reach. Like it was all done on purpose.
If I was in power I'd thrash you within an inch of your life and leave you to rot in the dungeons!
To the young boy's surprise, there was only a scroll with a broken seal. Finding no dirt inside, he shrugged and unrolled it. He'd get the forty lashes anyway…
I can read just a little, he quietly thought. There was the name of the estate's previous owner, Sir Mordred, also known as the Iron Margrave. And in it, something called a "last will and testament". The boy asked himself what on earth was a "will" and a "testament", but he let his gaze drift downwards.
He gasped at the last sentence on the paper.
'If this illness takes the last of my breath away, I give my estate and riches, in whole, to the unborn son of Letizia, the head servant.
Signed with truth and moral uprightness, Mordred the Iron Margrave.'
Wasn't my mother's name Letizia?
The boy ran out to talk to the head butler and show him the scroll, the question of his mother's name burned to his head.
"I have talked to Specter Knight, and he has promised to help us in time of need." King Knight slumped backwards on his throne.
"Why not have a war of attrition with them?" One of the advisers piped up. "We kill their soldiers, and we have Specter Knight reanimate them?"
King Knight raised his brows, suddenly feeling giddy and excited. "It's possible!"
"But isn't the Lich Yard overcrowded as we speak-"
King Knight waved a hand. "His problem, not mine!"
"His mother's name is Letizia, sire." The butler smoothed the young boy's hair. The nobleman glared furiously at the clean face,good clothes, and smug grin of the servant boy. The child with the man raised his brow out of curiosity at the servant boy.
"And what of his mother?! I will have you fired if-"
The butler calmly unrolled the yellowed scroll, and immediately the nobleman paled. "This is the official document of the Iron Margrave's last will and testament exactly twelve years, four months, and two days ago."
"A-and what of it, then?!"
"The estate and money of the Margrave, which you have used to spend, has all along been for this... 'servant' boy." The gloved hand of the estate's loyal butler soothed the dull ache on the boy's hair.
That was my money you wasted on that child! Pay it back with your life.
"Father!" The other child looked up to the nobleman, whose fist was clenched. He brought his fist up and intended to strike the servant boy. The butler pulled a hidden blade from his sleeve and pointed it at the man's neck before he could step forward and hurt the true heir.
"I may be old, sire, but you forget, I was captain of the guard." The butler murmured before lowering his weapon. "Let us work this out diplomatically. I shall be the boy's guardian. Don't you agree?" He turned to the small boy.
There was a long pause. The boy's smile faded, looking up at the ceiling in thought, and when his smile was back it was even wider, with a hint of malice in it. He nodded.
The nobleman just huffed and stormed away, grumbling.
King Knight paced back and forth, playing with his fingers. "That is right, if we somehow get Specter Knight to fight for us, and I think he will, the souls of the fallen will automatically be his, and the enemy army's numbers will be curbed."
"Brilliant idea, sire!"
"I might get Propeller Knight's airborne help, too. We have an air advantage! But knowing him, he is lazy and will not even get off his ship. I can still talk."
"I think Specter Knight is enough."
"But I want his Hoverhafts!" The usurper childishly whined. "They are terrifyingly efficient and unreachable."
Orange is such a beautiful color.
It was the color of the sunset and the skies around the setting sun and sunsets are very pretty to watch. Sunrises are also beautiful, but it was in the other direction, yes. As true heir of everything, he can sleep long after the sunrise.
It was the color of his eyes. Okay, maybe his eyes were a little lighter, but orange is close enough. Well, there was yellow at the thing he was looking at so it's an acceptable choice!
It was also the color of fire, the fervent passion and infernal anger of twelve years or so, engulfing part of the estate. Namely, the part where the other child and the house's master slept.
"Well, it seems the phantom reaper has some work to do…" King Knight chuckled. "Send a squad of knights to summon him here."
Up next: S is for switch.
Translations:
Ao! Nani wo shite iru?! - Ao! What are you doing!
Kora, Ao! - Listen, Ao!
Sōdesu ka? - Is that so?
Oishi / umai - delicious
The idea of 2p!Propeller Knight, AKA the violent bloodthirsty airship Frenchie, came from my friend spincontroller! Their tweet about "the coolest thing about propellers" basically didn't let me sleep well that night…
References are of Indivisible (and within this I also referenced Hyper Light Drifter, which also makes a cameo), console exclusive events, Azure Striker Gunvolt 2, The Reward: Tales of Alethrion, and Yooka Laylee.
Please don't hesitate to tell me about typos and errors :)