Chapter 13 – Mind Your Manners

"Not now, Mother!" he pleaded, turning around to stand in front of her but freezing at the sight that was unfolding in his office.

A termite and a moth trailed after his stubborn mother, who was all smiles, and carried a large table in the middle of the room behind the trolley full of food she was pushing. In slow, relaxed movements, they arranged the obnoxious shiny white cutlery and red lacquerware he knew the old woman only used on special occasions, and in-between, he noticed a few decorations in painful shapes of hearts and birds that looked awfully new and well crafted.

The ruler couldn't help but wonder where, in this forsaken kingdom, she hid all this stuff; in any way, he recognized the 'romantic' style the insufferable woman pulled seemingly out of nowhere every time she threw a 'candidate' at him.

Except, now, she was acting out of pure opportunism.

"Oh, Your Majesty, you shouldn't have!" the fairy chirped in a happy manner he hadn't heard from her yet.

He then realized he had been simply staring at the setting in shocked silence this whole time.

"It smells so good," she continued.

The two helpers eyed the foreigner curiously. They proceeded to place bowls and plates covered by their fancy lids on the table, as if absolutely nothing was wrong in the world. As if nothing worthy of notice was happening in this room.

"I'm not done with her, Mother," Bog complained. "Why can't you eat your breakfast in the common room, like you do every day?"

"Oh, this isn't for me, my dear."

"What?"

"Mommy has errands to run today, so she'll eat later."

"Don't tell me this is—"

"So, this is for you two, darlings!" She clapped her hands together and started to head back toward the kitchen, an extra spring in her step. "Look in the small bowl, next to the glasses. I took out a jar of fermented bean paste, your favourite!"

While Bog was still stunned, the fairy added: "Wait, Griselda?"

"Yes?"

"Please tell me you're going to eat with us?"

"No, I'm afraid not, sweetie." After she turned the corner, she screamed from the other side of the wall so they could hear her: "Let me just get some water, I'll be right back!"

The (supposedly) fairy queen went closer to investigate the table. "Wow, this looks delicious!" She threw him a sideways glance. "Hey, I didn't know it was okay to eat fermented food."

He tried very hard not to blush, but it was almost impossible when she was addressing him in such a casual manner… and with the knowledge that the other goblins were paying attention heavy on his mind. "Err…"

And they were probably noting everything they saw in their heads like machines.

Machines ready to disseminate juicy rumours that would probably never quite reach his ears, but that he knew circulated widely.

Damn it.

"Come on, everyone!" Thang suddenly announced. "There's nothing to see here anymore. Let's let His Majesty enjoy his breakfast!"

Just when he thought this couldn't possibly get any worse. "No, you guys are not leaving," Bog corrected, slapping a hand to his face. "You'll have to move this… person to the dungeon for me." He gestured vaguely toward the fairy, unsure what to call her now and torn between formalities and harsh words.

The young woman rolled her eyes and went back to inspect what his crazy mother had brought. The two kitchen helpers ignored his order and exited the room, but the others, who had been about to make a step, returned to their initial positions in one quick movement, pretending they hadn't moved at all. Stuff and Thang went to stand a bit closer to the visitor.

Thang stared back, anxiety gradually becoming obvious on his face.

Thang…

For now, Bog worked under the assumption that the talkative goblin was responsible for a good portion of the recent events. He couldn't prove it, though, so he had to swallow his suspicions.

"So… what should we do?" the fairy asked, clearly hesitating. "I suppose it would be rude to let all this go to waste…"

"I am not sitting at that table."

"Well, normally, I wouldn't either. I'm not a fan of the… romance thing, but… I haven't eaten anything since last night and this bowl," she pointed at the soup with a nod, "is calling me."

"Well, then, knock yourself out."

He went to sit on his throne, where he still felt somewhat in control. Nobody dared throw a comment into the tense room.

Soon, the helpers came back with two chairs. Everyone present in the room stared after them when they left.

Before he had time to add anything, his mother returned with a pint of water. "Come on, Bog, don't be shy!"

"I'm not sitting there, Mother," he groaned, his fingers on his forehead.

"Really? Well, what can I do? Oh, poor thing, you're still tied up. Thang, be a good man and free our guest, will you?"

"Of course!" He jumped behind the fairy… a bit too eagerly to his taste.

When the young goblin noticed he was being glared at again, not only by Bog but also by Stuff, he cleared his throat and tried to look as if untying her wasn't making him happy at all.

"Sit down, Marianne," the old woman gestured as the tall female took place at the table and rubbed her wrists. "Is there anything you need?"

"Oh, err… You wouldn't happen to have a leaf on which I could wipe my hands? They're a bit dusty."

"Oh! You're right, that room must have been very dirty. Hold on, I'll be right back."

"Thank you!"

Bog massaged his temples. This situation was already giving him a headache.

Oblivious to his displeasure, the fairy took a fork between two hands and examined it very closely.

"This food is probably like poison for you," he warned her.

She lifted her head in surprise. "What?"

"You are probably allergic to food from the Dark Forest."

"I doubt it. What makes you say that?"

"You guys haven't eaten any of that for generations."

"That's not how allergies work."

"Yes, it is. Your body isn't used to it. This could be bad for you."

"Well, it's sweet of you to worry about me, but there's no way I'm going to pass up this amazing opportunity to experience your kingdom's culture firsthand."

Her enthusiastic answer hit him like a slap. Learn about the Dark Forest? She was actually serious about this 'reconciliation' thing, wasn't she?

The goblins were still very, very silent.

"You're the only one missing, Bog," his mother remarked aloud as she came back with wet leaves. "There you go, sweetheart."

"Sit down and eat in my place, Mother," he replied.

"Oh, me? No, I—"

"Remember what the doctor said—"

"Goodness, Bog, your mother is a big girl. She can pretty well eat her breakfast whenever she wants—"

"No, Mother. I won't have you skipping meals again."

"Bog—"

"Mother."

Finally, she sighed and gave up. "Fine, fine. But I hope you'll have the decency to come down here and eat just a little bit of what your mother cooked with such love for you."

"I'm sure she's not even that hungry anyway."

"My name is Marianne," she reminded him. "And no, no, I am hungry. This looks delicious, Your Majesty. I can't wait to try it."

"See, Bog? I'm always right. Now come on."

"Let it go, Mother."

Marianne smiled at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. He suppressed the need to communicate his annoyance with a growl.

She pointed the bowl of soup. "This is…?"

"It's mushroom broth, my dear," his mother replied cheerfully.

The young woman poured some into her own and didn't hesitate to bring a spoonful to her mouth. After diving for a second, she went on a long string of compliments the matriarch was only too glad to accept.

He watched them repeat this process with the entire menu. Before he even realized it, his eyes were about to surrender to his lack of sleep and he lost track of their conversation.

"I have to admit, Bog…" The mention of his name by Marianne startled him awake. "It's a beautiful forest you're hiding here. It's a shame that you keep it to yourself."

"This forest is not mine," he snarled, rubbing his eyelids. "But I wouldn't expect a fairy to understand."

"You are not its king, then?"

"Yes, I am the king. I am the Bog King."

She mixed some more bean paste to her broth, following the old woman's suggestion. "Alright. If this territory is not yours, then whose is it?"

"This forest belongs to the people who live in it." Drowsiness made his tone even flatter than usual.

"Is that so. You know, my lack of understanding is not due to a lack of trying to understand. It's just that there is so little information available."

"There is no need for any kind of information."

"I'm just saying…" She took a second to chew on a bite of boiled roots she had dipped in the bean-mushroom broth. "Mutual understanding could help our people get along better."

"The goblins will not magically get along with the fairies, nor with the other residents of the Fairy Kingdom... especially not after what you've done."

She took another spoonful of grinded seeds and raised an interrogatory sound.

"You trespassed not only on my land, but also on every goblin's land," he explained, though he didn't know why he even bothered to try. "It means that your ultimate trial should be a public one."

"Oh, Bog," his mother coined in. "You always know how to crash a good party."

"I would love to stay around and chat with everyone," the fairy replied. "Honestly. But I'm afraid I must remind you of the consequences of, you know… keeping me here any longer."

"Are you threatening me?"

"This could hardly be called a threat. It's a fact."

"You don't scare me, tough girl."

"You don't either, Your Majesty."

"Tell me about the people who sent you to my kingdom, then." He smirked, now feeling a bit more awake. "You do realize that by throwing you here, they accepted to take the risk of not seeing you again, do you? How does that make you feel?"

Marianne arched an eyebrow as she took some more soup. "I told you. I volunteered."

"And I'll bet you were the only one too?"

"The royal family is preparing for a military strike against you. I'm here to prevent that and you're not being very helpful."

A confused expression crossed his features for a split second. He pinched his chin in an unconscious manner, then stared at her in silence, furiously thinking of the implications of what she had said. She simply kept eating.

"You came here out of your own initiative, then?"

"That's not what I said."

"The royal family doesn't know you are here?"

"Yes, they know."

"But if I understand correctly, you were not ordered to come here and speak in their name. You made that decision yourself, hoping I would cooperate with you and stop them from doing what they intend to do, simply with a promise that they would get to speak with me. Is that correct or not?"

"You're distorting my words and I don't like it."

He was not staring anymore. He was glaring.

"As I said," Marianne added, a touch of steel in her voice, "they are preparing for a military strike at this very moment because they think it's the only logical response to your people's attack. I came here to prove that it could be different."

"You're lying."

Marianne blinked. "Pardon me?"

"We all know your army is in bad shape. They are sick, I've heard. If they decide to attack the forest, they'll likely get lost before they can find the village… and my castle. By the time they find us, they'll be exhausted. I'm sure they realize that. There has to be another reason for your visit."

"You're paranoid, is what I'm thinking." She turned back to her roots.

"He is, isn't he?" Griselda added casually.

"If what you say is true," Bog continued over them, "and they are readying an attack on my kingdom, it will be your fault."

"They won't attack if you release me and I deliver them a positive answer from you. I don't know how to say this anymore, Bog, and I'm tired of repeating myself."

Gradually, his face went back to an angry frown, but before he could bang his fist and yell, she took in a sudden breath, reaching for a bowl's lid.

"Wait, I know this three-legged bird," she marvelled. "It's a crow, isn't it?"

"That's right," his mother responded proudly. "Our family has kept these for generations. You know what this bird represents, Marianne?"

"Yes! Well, it could mean something different for you."

"To us, goblins, he symbolizes the sun. The legend says he lives inside the sun. That also makes him a symbol of power."

"Oh, that's very close to our three-legged crow! For us, it's an ancient symbol for guidance. He led the first fairies to the land we inhabit now. And now that I think about it, I do remember reading that he was the reincarnation of the sun."

"Really?"

"This… is significant. This, by itself, is almost proof enough that we have the same ancestors."

"Fascinating, isn't it?"

"I bet if we compared more of our old items, we could find more things that we have in common. Maybe even find that they were made by the same people. And we could make a compilation of—"

"That's not going to happen," Bog cut them short. "Not during my lifetime."

Marianne looked up at him, visibly disgusted by his comment.

"What?" he taunted. "A little contact and suddenly, you think we're going to be on friendly terms?" His tongue dropped the words like they were a curse.

"You have refused to talk with the fairies for a very long time, Bog," she remarked, as if it needed to be highlighted. "Why? Why make your kingdom a hermit one?"

"Well…" Griselda started.

"So far, both our people have lived very well without the other," Bog told her. "Are we supposed to forget that today?"

"Let us meet again, then. I don't see where the problem is. Must we stay apart until we forget how this has come to be?"

"My people rejected yours a long time ago." He tilted his head and pretended to check his staff for scratches. "And with reason, too. Last time I checked, you fairies were still at the top of a primitive empire. Ruling over those that have it far less easy than you. Yes?"

She blinked. "Did you say the goblins rejected the fairies?"

"Yes. Didn't they teach you that? A long time ago, there was a disagreement… around political ideologies."

Griselda nodded silently.

"There was a war," he continued, "and the goblins were victorious." He balled a fist in front of himself to illustrate violence. "They didn't execute the rebels, however, but sent them away so they could carry out their selfish ideas by themselves. They still live by them to this day."

"What do you mean, their selfish ideas?"

"I told you: the fairies rule over those who are not as privileged as they are. In the Dark Forest, all subjects are considered equal."

"We don't rule over them, no. The fairies live among the other species. We do mingle, you know."

He let his staff hang loosely by his side. "Yes, you do. You treat them unfairly. Narcissism has made your species blind to the misery of others," he sighed. "You're so focused on your own little feelings that you forget to raise your head and look around."

"Narcissism? What are you even—"

"The only reason you, fairies, were able to survive this long was because you had some help cultivating the soil. Correct?"

She frowned. "What's your point? Look, I came here to prevent a war. I don't have any intention of arguing political ideologies with you. We'll discuss what's important to prevent bloodshed. Once you assure me that you will be present at the border to speak with the royal family, I will leave the Dark Forest and not come back. Wouldn't that make you happy, Bog?"

The old woman was the first to react: "Of course not, Marianne—"

"Yes, it would very much," Bog stated, loud enough to bury his mother's voice.

"Once our relationship has been declared peaceful," the young monarch continued, "goblins and fairies won't have to meet again, if that's what the Dark Forest wishes."

"Only then will the world be right again."

"So give me your answer and let me leave."

"Your absence will have to act as my answer. Marianne."

She sighed loudly and lowered her eyes to the food on the table. "It really would be wisest for you to release me," she replied, her tone unchanged but not without a visible effort. "I can pretend I never entered the Dark Forest, so as not to give the others any ideas."

"That wouldn't suffice, no."

Her eyes snapped to his. "In order to maintain our relationship and to avoid any more conflict—"

"I really have no idea what relationship you're talking about," he mused, leaning over his knees. "It's all—"

"No, you do. You're simply putting an act."

He froze. His smile disappeared.

It was her turn to smirk at him. "Why lie about the fact that we know each other, Bog?"

Quickly, he regained his composure. "No, I really don't see what relationship you're talking about. Our people have been separated for decades."

"I'm talking about you and me."

The goblins, whose presence he had almost forgotten about, started whispering to each other.

"I don't know her. Do you hear me? I've never seen her before!"

"Oh, Bog, was is it you're not telling your old mother?" Griselda chimed in.

Suddenly and without any warning, he crossed the distance that separated them in a few wide steps. In response, Marianne stood up and placed herself next to the table and fully faced him.

He grasped her face from underneath with his entire hand, making her jump but not quite freeze. Her right arm moved slightly, though he couldn't see what she was doing.

His eyebrows twitched. "Why are you not scared?"

"Because you're not scary. Let go of my face."

Every goblin in the room gasped.

When he looked down in curiosity, he found she was holding a dagger.

"Now."

He stared into her brown eyes.

His hand released her.

A wide, triumphant smile stretched her brightly coloured lips. She reinserted the dagger in its sheath, over her left clavicle. "So? Are you going to meet the royal family or not?"

"You will rot in the dungeon for this."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Yes, I did answer your question, and the answer is no. That means you're going to stay imprisoned until the people accept to hear your plea."

"No, Bog, you're not going to make her stay in the dungeon," his mother once again defied him, standing up to place herself firmly between the fairy and him.

"She's my prisoner, Mother," he growled, lowering his shoulders to meet her at eye level.

"I don't care what you think," she said, pumping a hip to the side in provocation. "She is mine, and I am going to take care of her."

"Prisoners stay in the dungeon."

"Guests stay in the guest room, Bog," she stressed, pointing a finger to his chest. "I swear! How do you expect to make a life companion when you don't even know how to act properly in front of a potential one?"

To this, Bog raised his head and roared in anger, unable to find more eloquent words to convey his feelings. His scream echoed across the ceiling and bounced back on the walls.

Once his overly dramatic reaction had ended, he rubbed a tired hand to his face and let himself slump. All goblins, except Griselda, had taken a fearful step backwards.

"Wow," Marianne interjected. "At least, you know how to make a girl feel special."

"Stuff. Thang," he called.

Both goblins jumped and stuttered a wordless response.

"Take her to that forsaken winter room. And I don't want to hear from her until the evening."

"Hey, Bog?"

He turned around and only slightly looked at her.

"The longer I stay here, the more I may feel like gossiping. Just so you know." She winked at him as she was led to her new room.

When he arrived at his own, he made sure to slam his door so hard over her head that she could feel it in her feet.

The Fairy King sighed and went to take a seat at the forefront of the conference room. Soon, the two doctors supervising the treatment entered as well, followed by the captain that oversaw the Miracle Powder sellers' investigation. The three of them bowed respectfully.

"Go on. I'm listening," he ordered, not feeling very interested in polite words.

"Your Majesty," the male doctor started, "we carry both good news and bad news."

"Start with the bad one."

"We… still haven't found a way to heal the wounds on the soldiers' wings, I'm afraid."

"Keep trying everything you can think of. What is the good news?"

"We have finally succeeded in identifying the harmful component of the Miracle Powder, Your Grace," the female one continued. "And we believe that by studying it further, we may find a remedy very soon."

"You have identified it? What is it, then?"

"It's a new type of fungus, Your Highness. We have never seen it before."

"Well, that's one step toward figuring it out, I suppose..."

"Your Majesty, there is more." The male doctor raised a hand to his side, a nervous gesture to attract his attention one more time. "We have also identified the key ingredient of the Miracle Powder, and we think it may give us a lead in finding its origins."

"Really? Golly, that's encouraging news. What did you discover?"

"It is made from a mineral that is mostly found in the Dark Forest, Your Highness."

The king felt his jaw drop.

The Dark Forest had designed this powder… no, this weapon,to use against them? Was this a conspiracy to overthrow him?

"What about the powder's sellers, captain? Did you capture them?"

"No, Your Majesty," the young man breathed lowly. "They are nowhere to be found. We believe they may have fled the kingdom."

"Do you think they have anything to do with the Dark Forest?"

"We are taking this idea into consideration, but nothing so far has led us to believe it might be the case."

"Investigate this possibility closer, then."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Unless you have something else to report, you are all dismissed."