Chapter Two: How Mathias Single-Handedly Started A War
"People are talking, my king," Queen Yao scoffed, admiring his nails as if they were the most interesting things on earth.
King Ivan stepped towards him and lay a hand on his shoulder, fingers caressing the fine silk of Queen Yao's robes. "I hear it too, my love. Our Kingdoms of Acacia and Oliennon… We are to be at war soon," he leaned down and kissed the porcelain skin of his queen's cheek.
"You know me, though," said Queen Yao, covering his husband's hand with his own and smiling darkly, "I refuse to submit."
King Ivan returned his queen's smile.
"Neither do I."
XxX
Mathias returned to the Sorcerer Norge's shop the first thing in the morning of the following day, barely even dressed (he'd woken up earlier than Berg that day). Emil winced when he opened the door, then frowned sadly.
"The Sorcerer Norge is out and will be gone for a few days. I'm very sorry, Mathias." he said pitifully, then closed the door in Mathias's face.
Still, that didn't deter Mathias from trying again the next day, nor the day after that.
On the fifth day, it was the Sorcerer Norge himself who answered the door.
"Don't you have anyone else to go to?" he asked coldly, "there are plenty of witches and wizards, even in this town."
"Nobody can help me," answered Mathias, "I've talked to every magician in Little Whirling and I've even called in at nearby towns, but they took one look at my curse and said no! You're my only hope, Norge. Hell, even Emil thinks so!"
The Sorcerer slapped Mathias quickly across his face. "First of all, address me as the Sorcerer Norge, for that is my title. Second of all, I can't break curses either, okay? I can't even break the one that's been put on me. Don't ever come here again, or I will turn the rest of you to stone as well!" And with a loud bang, Mathias found himself staring at a pathetic wooden door. Tears swam in his eyes, turning his vision blurry. He scrubbed them away and paced in a circle before turning back to Norge's shop.
"Ya heartless monster, no wonder ya got cursed! The sign says GRAND SORCERER, but really you're just a talentless hack like the rest of them! I hope ya turn into a damn frog, ya fraud!" He punctuated his tirade with a swift kick to the door, then stomped back to his home. Berg was already waiting for him at the dinner table.
"No luck?" he asked softly.
Mathias shook his head and plopped himself down at the table next to his friend as a feeling of hopelessness rose within him. Through bleary eyes, he studied his hands. They looked to be made of smooth gray granite, uncommon near the sea. He tried to flex, to wiggle his fingers, but they refused to move.
They really are stone, he thought as he pressed his face to his palms, cool and heavy.
His affliction had more than taken its toll on Mathias's life for the past few days. He felt like an invalid, unable to perform simple tasks without the help of another. More importantly, he couldn't work like this. He was already under strain from the startling lack of fish in the bay near Little-Whirling-By-The-Sea, and his stone hands had put a stop to any fishing he had to do. He couldn't even make money off of his odd jobs. Thankfully, Berg's sociopathic tendencies had reached their limit and he refused to take any more of Mathias's money, instead returning every last penny he'd received in the past week out of true concern for his friend.
In order to continue living, something had to be done, whether it was Lukas who lifted his curse or not.
"Berg," he groaned tiredly, "do you mind accompanying me to Crownheim?"
Berg looked up from the newspaper he'd begun to read. "What for?"
"I need to see the king."
"This might not be a good time," Berg slid the paper in front of Mathias's nose, "there are rumors of a war breaking out."
"I don't care," sighed Mathias, "if anyone can lift this curse, it's the wizard king himself."
"Then I will take you where you need to go," said Berg.
XxX
Crownheim, the royal city and capital of the Kingdom of Acacia, was an uneventful half-day's ride from Little Whirling. Despite his predicament, Mathias found it nice to travel with his best friend again. He almost forgot that he couldn't use his hands. Almost.
In the meantime, during the lulls of his conversations with Berg, Mathias stared out the window and thought up new ways to manage without his hands.
"I don't mind helping you out," Berg had said.
Mathias snorted, a strange sort of laugh. "You just pity me."
"Who wouldn't? You have no hands."
They arrived in Crownheim to find it blindingly brilliant. The buildings rose tall and majestic, made of rosy stone and accented by gold. The streets were immaculate, lacking any rubbish or chips in their cobblestones. Mathias's and Berg's old carriage seemed out of place, as if they had accidentally ridden into a fairytale.
The tallest and most majestic building, however, was the royal palace. It dwarfed Crownheim in its sheer gaudiness, consisting of clusters of red stone towers topped by colorful onion-shaped domes and trimmed with gold. On the top of one of those onion-shaped domes, Mathias spotted a serpentine dragon wound around its spire, basking in the afternoon sun. He wondered if that was worth reporting to the king as well, as dragons weren't very common in these parts and were commonly regarded as a threat, although this one seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
Mathias kept his eye trained on the dragon as he and Berg dismounted their carriage at the town stables. Assuring themselves that their horses were well taken care of by the stablehands, they prepared to walk the last few blocks to Crownheim Castle.
If Mathias still had his hands, they would be shaking. Instead, he bit his lip, almost glaring at the castle as they approached it. Berg gently touched him on the arm. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yeah, just a li'l nervous." Mathias grinned shakily. "Meetin' the king and all, y'know. Cause for nervousness."
"Don't get your hopes up," Berg said solemnly, "I hear he's a real airhead."
"How bad could he be if he rules a kingdom?" countered Mathias.
Berg had no answer for that. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and quickened his stride, forcing Mathias to walk faster as well. They reached the palace in no time.
Mathias had never felt so small and insignificant as he did then, staring up at the palace that took up his entire field of vision. That entire palace belonged to one man, this airhead king, also known as the greatest wizard of their time. He was sure that King Ivan could cure him, or else they wouldn't be calling him the Great and Powerful Wizard King Ivan, wouldn't they?
Beyond the palace's gilded gates lay a long flight of stone stairs, leading up to the palace doors. Mathias took one look at the stairs and turned around. "Yeah, no. Not climbin' those stairs. You go alone."
Berg stopped him. "We're climbing those stairs, you lazy bum."
The trek consumed nearly half an hour of their morning and left them both sore, tired, and sweaty. After introducing themselves to the guards, they collapsed on the landing to catch their breaths.
"King Ivan had better see us," panted Mathias, "if I climbed those stairs for nothin', I might kick somethin'!"
Luckily, the guards agreed to escort them straight to the king. They walked through high-ceilinged chambers, decorated richly with paintings, tapestries, and exotic mosaics. Mathias especially liked a medallion design embedded in the floor of some mirrored room, and had to be dragged away from the kaleidoscope-like chamber. Eventually, they came to rest the foot of King Ivan's throne in the most lavish room of all.
The king himself was just as majestic as his palace and city. An elaborate golden crown sat on top of ash blond locks, and his fur-trimmed robes trailed down to the floor in perfect folds that Mathias assumed had been set up by his assistants. He wore large gems on every one of his fingers, but his face was humble: a rich man with a child's smile. When he spoke, his voice was soft yet authoritative.
"What do you want?"
Mathias and Berg bowed. "He is a simple fisherman who has lost the use of his hands due to a curse," said Berg, "We implore the Great and Powerful Wizard King Ivan to aid us in the removing of this curse."
Mathias almost laughed. He'd never heard Berg speak so respectfully before. He swallowed his laughter and removed the gloves he had come to wearing, revealing his stone hands to the King. King Ivan rose slowly from his throne and walked towards the two men to get a better look.
"This is quite a curse, yes," King Ivan said, prodding at Mathias's hands, "I've been put under a curse as well."
Mathias nodded, eager for the King's answer.
King Ivan laughed. "My curse is called marriage, though, and I seem to have brought it on myself! Isn't that wonderful?"
Not what Mathias wanted to hear, but kings worked in strange ways, so he waited for him to continue.
"The Queen dares to play games with my head, yes?" King Ivan cast his gaze at the tapestry that hung behind his throne, depicting the king with his hand resting on the waist of what appeared to be a demure, raven-haired woman with a certain cunningness lighting her almond eyes. He sighed forlornly and turned back to Mathias and Berg. "My friends, you are young and handsome. Do not fall for the wily ways of a pretty woman," he smirked, "or in my case, a pretty man…"
Mathias could care less about the mysterious queen's gender. He held his hands out again. "That's all good, sire, but, my hands…"
"He took my heart, then my lands, then my money," lamented the king, "this war will cost me a fortune. Queen Yao, he is a divine and formidable sorcerer. His powers rival mine, and the powers of his subjects greatly surpass those of my people. I will need every registered magician to fight!" King Ivan clenched his fists in his robes, "and still we will be greatly outnumbered! What am I to do?"
"With all due respect, your majesty, you could start by healing my friend's hands," Berg interjected. The crease in his pronounced brow grew deeper as the king continued speaking.
As King Ivan went on and on about the impending war, Mathias's hope faded and his patience went dry. King Ivan wasn't going to help them, all he wanted to talk about was his nonsensical little war with Queen Yao. Every time Mathias tried to redirect King Ivan's rant back towards his curse, the king would feign deafness and continue.
"Yes, I understand, but…"
"King Ivan, please…"
"Your majes-"
Sighing, Berg leaned over to whisper in Mathias's ear. "You're not getting any help out of that loon," he said, "we should go home."
"I came all this way to see the king and we've been here for nearly three hours. We can't just leave!" Mathias hissed back.
"That's exactly it. We've been here for nearly three hours, and all he's done is talk about his silly little war with his silly little queen. You're better off with that damn sorcerer. Let's go."
"Oh," Mathias exclaimed, "I have to tell him about the dragon on top of the palace, at least!"
Berg growled in annoyance. "Fine, but be quick. I refuse to be kept waiting any longer."
Turning back to the rambling King Ivan, Mathias shouted, "Your majesty!" and this time, he succeeded in getting the king's attention. King Ivan fell silent, smiling pleasantly at Mathias and Berg.
"Ah yes, what was it you wanted of me?"
"There is a white dragon sittin' on top of your palace," said Mathias, "it's kind of just sleepin' there. I wasn't sure if this concerned you, but could you also heal my hands? I've been cursed." He held out his hands once more, imploring King Ivan to lift the curse.
Instead of performing any sort of healing magic, King Ivan bolted from the throne room, shouting commands to his officers and leaving Mathias and Berg in a stunned silence.
"What in blazes just happened?" snarled Mathias. He and Berg sprinted from the throne room along with every guard in the palace, only to find King Ivan standing on the stone steps outside amassing his forces.
"Find that dragon!"
"That was Queen Yao's dragon!"
"Queen Yao's been spying on us!"
Chaos raged around them as King Ivan ordered his soldiers to hunt for Mathias's dragon, and Mathias and Berg decided there was never a better time to leave. They rushed down the stairs, through the gates, and weaved through the crowd that had formed, only slowing down when the town stable came into view. Mathias paid the stablehand guarding their horses as Berg hitched them to their carriage, and they sped away from the insanity that Crownheim had become.
While Berg concentrated on goading the horses to speed up, Mathias stared sadly at his still-petrified hands. Night fell, bringing cool breezes that caused the men's skin to prickle with goosebumps. Mathias hunkered down under the wool blanket Berg had spread over him, chilled not by the weather but by the realization that he was still cursed.
A half day's ride to Crownheim, he thought as he stared at the rising moon, A half day's ride to Crownheim with what to show? A war? Our king is useless, and we've got another half day's ride back home!
Bitterness rose in Mathias. Overhead, the serpentine shape of a dragon streaked through the night sky.
It must have been near midnight when Berg spoke. "I'm sorry."
Mathias yawned. "No need to be. I'm sorry for dragging you all this way for nothing."
"Not nothing," snorted Berg, "you did single-handedly plunge the entire Kingdom of Acacia into war with the Kingdom of Oliennon. Good job."
"I don't need your back-talk," grumbled Mathias, turning away from Berg in his seat.
"Do not speak ill of the one who wipes your arse, Mathias," warned Berg. His tone grew gentle. "We'll find a way to break the curse. It'll take patience and persistence, but we'll do it." He cast a glance back at Mathias's huddled form. "Don't give up."
Mathias smiled. "Berg, old friend, I don't even know what those words mean."
AN: THE RETURN OF BERG HUIZINGA AKA APH NETHERLANDS AKA MR. I STOLE MY DUTCH FRENCH TEACHER'S NAME FOR THIS CHARACTER
Also, NedDen BrOTP.
I'm really loving this story so far. I hope everyone else is enjoying it as well!
Don't worry. Sorcerer Norge will come back. :)