CHAPTER 4 - The Mold
Within the King's quarters – a small humble room with a Queen-sized bed of preserved Pinewood to the far-side, a medium-sized footlocker at the bed's foot, a writer's desk and chair aligned to the wall of the room's entrance – less than two feet to the right of an outward-opening door. The room was dimly lit with nothing but a shallow candle within a tin bowl on the writer's desk and a window shrouded by dark curtains were to light the room.
Within the humble desk seat – Adrian of Green Gold sat staring blankly at a thick, worn, dusty journal before him – the personal chronicle of the King.
Within his dimly lit bedroom, Adrian of Green Gold sat at his desk. Dried tears from his meeting with Asgore and Frisk less than an hour ago remained upon his face. Adrian sat at his desk... Alone.
*And nobody came…
. . .
Toriel and Frisk sat within their tent, sharing the rest of a leftover butterscotch-cinnamon pie. Their tent was a humble, decently sized spider-silk construct of good quality. There's enough room to enter, find a spot, and sit down upon a tough, yet neatly tailored purple spider-silk rug. To the back of the tent less than a couple of feet from Toriel and Frisk were two sleeping bags made to imitate sleeping on clouds of heaven. Sewn-into the rug's center lies the Dreemur family crest – the Delta Rune. The symbol of Monster kind's hope since before even the beginning.
"You wanted to see me, Tori?"
Asgore introduced himself at the tent's entrance. Toriel nodded as Frisk beckoned Asgore to sit down beside them. Asgore obliged, moving to sit down next to Toriel - his wife and kingdom's former queen. To his dismay, Toriel re-adjusted her position away from Asgore yet closer to Frisk – positioning the three in a triangular formation with the Delta Rune positioned front and center between Father, mother and child.
Asgore paused.
"This... Isn't about me reforming the Guard, is it?"
"No, it's not."
A pause occurred. Then Asgore followed-up.
"Well, at least the war with humanity is over. At least the local ones... Sort of. It feels more like an awkward peace treaty. Not really what any of us had in mind."
Toriel took a deep breath, then calmly spoke.
"How long has it been since monsters were sealed away, Asgore?"
Toriel's voice was not it's normal self. Asgore and Frisk picked-up on it immediately. After a pause, Asgore answered Toriel's question.
"Two thousand years. Give or take a decade."
Toriel's face darkened. The condition of the surface – the bleak, grey, colorless landscape she saw from the threshold of Green Gold's Gatehouse haunted her thoughts - and it hindered her ability to continue speaking.
"I thought Humanity would've changed… That after all this time... That somewhere within those two thousand years, they would've realized what they were capable of doing... That somewhere along that line, they would've… Like the old days, we could..."
Toriel's mind was clouded with conflict. She imagined - recreating in her mind how the lush greens of the treetops and the steppe grass that would have been present so long ago. How before the humans lost themselves to fear- how they and monsters long ago used to coexist in true peace - but the colorless land wailed-out to Toriel as she was at the gatehouse. The surface had suffered a strange sort of neglect. The land had removed itself from those times of prosperity and peace as an ancient, long-gone era. Frisk moved closer to give her adoptive mother a side-hug to comfort her adoptive mother as she continued.
"The land, Asgore… You're a gardener, right? You can see it... The land… At the gatehouse, when I looked into that colorless landscape, at my feet was a flower with some kind of black mold growing on it..."
Asgore continued listening - His ears perked to attention at Toriel's mention of a mold.
"When we were young... We've seen mold on plants before... But this thing... I've never..."
Toriel mustered herself together for her next sentence - putting a hand on Frisk as she embraced her.
"Blood had been spilt on this land, Asgore... Human blood... By other humans. I don't want to say you were right. I could never bring myself to say that, but... It's... It's as if they have embraced this horrible, demented, vile... thing - that pitch-black mold I saw on that flower! They've... It's..."
Toriel couldn't describe what she wanted to say. When she gazed at the land from the threshold of the gatehouse, the land didn't speak in any words, or any verbal language. The land wailed to Toriel in pain - weeping heavily from what sins have come to pass upon it.
For two-thousand years - love, compassion, virtue, hope - these simple things had been missing from the land - mere husks of themselves, or rather melting snow - humanity was living with with what little of it was left here. For two thousand years, mankind has not known peace as it did when the monsters were living beside them. Two thousand years, that demented, vile, misery-inflicting, mold-like parasite has been allowed to flourish in the monsters' absence - draining the color from the environment and the souls of those on it. The land could do nothing but weep for two thousand years as it's color - the lifeblood and essence of the land was slowly drained from it for two-thousand years. The sins that have wormed into the land and stockpiled over the course of roughly twenty centuries and one decade, give or take...
That black mold... It's infected the land.
Toriel's eyes started to tear up.
"Chara was human... Those children were human... But... This land... Where is the humanity that was so abundant in them?! Where is the color in everyone's souls - the lush, distinctive color that those children had in full?!"
Asgore, finally gathering his courage moved over and gave Toriel the embrace a spouse gives to one they've said their wedding vows to.
Toriel released tears onto Asgore's purple cloak, then with a whimper managed to conclude.
"Where are the lush green hills? Where is the life in the forests? What happened to the beautiful mountains that surrounded this place? This place... The humans in it... Why does everything feel so wrong..."
Toriel wept deeply in Asgore's warm, soft, purple cloak as Asgore and Frisk embraced Toriel to ward-off her dread.
"I- I'm afraid. I'm afraid that now we're here, everything that has happened, everything Frisk has..."
"Tori?"
"I'm afraid that with the snap of someone's fingers, that this will be taken away from us all over again. I don't want that. I don't want to go back, but it feels as if the humans never even left to begin with... Like something is there - something that makes sure humanity can't leave... Like somethin's holding them back..."
Time passed. Asgore and Frisk held Toriel in their embrace. In Asgore's mind, he remembered a certain heartache - his mind taken to that time Asriel died in his garden. His mind wandered once again. In Asgore's mind, he saw upon a wooden throne, a human king clad in a green cloak sat in a dark, dimly lit throne-room, alone... And nobody is coming to see him.
He's still up there... In that fortress of a castle. Waiting... Hurting... Afraid to show weakness or vulnerability - to anyone... The same as I was...
Asgore spoke.
"Adrian is hurting, Toriel."
"... What?"
Toriel, after what seemed like an hour of hiding her face in Asgore's cloak was finally able to raise her head and talk to her husband face-to-face as they were able to do once upon a long time ago. Asgore continued.
"The Human King... I saw his soul. It was a soul of perseverance, but now Toriel... He's grieving. He's fighting a despair we both had faced long ago..."
Toriel turned to Frisk, she nodded in response. Toriel's face sank. She put her face back into Asgore's purple cloak where her tears were already drying. Asgore reached into a pocket within one of the pouches of his plate armor - pulling out a pure white tissue with the signature Delta Rune upon it's four corners - giving it to his wife.
"Thank you, Asgore"
Toriel thanked her husband before blowing her nose into the soft handkerchief.
After a moment of time and silence, the family heard footsteps outside the Tent. The familiar sound of Undyne's voice came to address the tent's occupants.
"Hey Toriel. Someone wanted to talk to you. It's one of the human guards from the Castle. He says he wanted to talk to you and Asgore about the Human King. Adrian, yea that guy… Uh... Yeah... Okay mate, Listen. YOU can address him as King Adrian 24/7. Asgore's the one and only I will EVER address as MY King. Got it?"
"Just send him in Undyne"
Frisk spoke to the entrance to the Tent.
"You got it Ambassador Frisk! Hang on a sec."
Undyne's voice quieted but wasn't enough to keep the Royal trio from overhearing.
"Listen to me, you absolute PUNK. If you EVER, and I mean EVER as much as THINK of hurting anyone of those three while you're under my watch, I will PERSONALLY introduce you to my fists as they knock every single one of your pearly-white teeth out, and crush your head within that shiny tin-can you call a helmet. THEN I will - also personally, toss you off the edge of this fortress's one of many cliffs! DO. YOU. COMPREHEND?! GOOD! MAKE SURE YOU HAVE IT WRITTEN DOWN, OR I WILL WRING YOUR SCRAWNY LITTLE NECK, AND I MEAN PHYSICALLY!"
There was an awkward silence before Undyne finished laying down her potential wrath.
"Not even your giant swords or magical weapon shenanigan-shticks will be able to save you from my fury! Got it?"
While overhearing all of this, Toriel gave Frisk a look.
"… Sorry Mom. I'll talk to Undyne about it later"
Frisk apologized to her adoptive mother.
After overhearing Undyne's verbal smack-down on the unlucky soul that (according to what they were told) simply wanted to talk to them about King Adrian, Undyne finally let the human in question into the tent. The moment he stepped-foot into the tent, Asgore immediately let off an apology.
"My apologies about Undyne sir. She is known to take her job very seriously, and her opinions can get a little - as Papyrus would put it - 'murder-y' at times."
The guard replied.
"She's a good Captain, your majesty. Her loyalty to you and her ability to inspire hope in others should be something you are very proud of."
From the impression King Adrian left them - Asgore, Toriel and Frisk were surprised by the human's response. Adrian's words echoed within Asgore and Frisk from when they were in that dark, dimly-lit throne room from what felt like less than an hour ago - give or take.
You are KING Asgore Dreemur of the Monsters of Mount Ebott. I will address you as such. You are to address yourself as such. Get some self-respect.
The guard took his seat in front of the tent entrance - the Delta Rune, the monster's symbol of hope still perfectly visible in-between the four of them. His voice was not demeaning or derogatory in any way. It had a firmness as a courtier giving news to a superior - a strange integrity that had no intent, save one of blatant honesty. The familiarity of his presence and now the familiarity of his voice was having Asgore and Frisk itch for where in recent events they've met this man.
Asgore analyzed the guard's attire.
An adjustable one-size-fits-all cuirass around his chest over a green gambeson. Simple linen pants held-up by a simple belt. Leather boots are equipped around his shins. His face concealed by a helmet. Flexible leather gloves were covering his hands up to his forearms. Bits and pieces of plate armor were scattered around his attire such as forearm plates and shin guards. This was a standard, if not minimal kit for a basic human foot soldier or guardsman.
The outsider human continued, if with not as much confidence in his own voice.
"… King Asgore… Ambassador Frisk… You might not remember me, but…"
Frisk finally connected the dots.
"Aren't you the guard that guided us to Adrian's throne room roughly an hour ago - give or take?"
The guard's head raised.
She... REMEMBERED me...
"...Yes. Thank you, Ambassador Frisk."
The guard unstrapped his helmet and unequipped it – revealing his face in full to Frisk and her adoptive parents.
Hair as black as coal. Eyes – a grey faded blue, as if the color was vacuumed from them... Just like Adrian's eyes.
"Again, thank you Ambassador Frisk... I'm not very good with lasting impressions, so..."
Frisk stared blankly at the guard - something in her own memory was stirring - something about someone from Hotland - a 'heat flamesman' of sorts.
The family of three exchanged their glances, then the guard continued - reaching his hand out in formal greeting.
"Please... Call me Jyack - Jyack the courtier."
*Author here.
Ok, so I actually don't know what to feel about this chapter. I did want to do something with Toriel, but 3/4th's through the chapter I forgot to save my changes and had to rebuild the chapter from scratch. I also managed to forget what I was doing in the first place and this Frankenstein-rebuild of a chapter is what came from it.
On one hand, this chapter allowed (some of) the world-building information from the prologues to have been shared with Toriel, and the Chapter highlights her reaction to it - going into character development for how well she's been holding-up after seeing the surface for the first time in... Well... Under the assumption she's actually been there from start to finish, and wasn't actually born in the UnderGround - only hearing stories of the world above them (Then again - I'm also hilariously inconsistent when it comes to certain information and tidbits, so if I DID say anything, I've probably forgotten and not on purpose. It's no excuse for inconsistent writing, and I'm gonna have to double check a lot of stuff later).
On the other hand, it pretty much does the same job as the previous chapter with Undyne's speech - with the surface being this colorless, bland place that nobody likes looking at, plus the same fears and insecurities the monsters have longed to get away from are still present - some worse than others.
I guess I wanted to emphasize something - that this fanfic isn't about "UnderTale characters in a Fantasy setting". Glitchtale, humantale, and all those other countless AU's/AT's (Alternate timelines) have already done that, and perhaps have done so far better than whatever I can set-up Kings' Tale to ever be.
What Kings' Tale (or the idea I want to give off for Kings' Tale) is that it's the UnderTale's surface gone horribly wrong. As for why humanity hasn't advanced it's technology or other shenanigans... Well... That's for me to keep to myself until the time is right to reveal that to you.
I do want to keep some semblance of mystery around the story, but I also want to straighten out possible confusion on less obvious parts whenever they make themselves present - all while still doing my best to respect the intelligence of the readers.
Anyways, thank you very much for your time. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If not, I understand. As I said earlier, I'm not really happy with this one either. Hopefully the next chapter will go smoother than this one did.
Thank you very much for your patience.