Spires

The troll’s setup was blatantly magical.

Clear hoses hung from beneath small buckets, which in turn dangled from the top of a slender pole.

Mead flavors were labeled clearly in that same glowing magic writing that looked just like holographic projections.

Except for one hose at each dispensing station that was labeled with a winking troll face in miniature surrounded by blinking question marks.

Mystery mead, obviously.

The troll in question loomed over the human crowd from behind a large bar where he, along with busy bartenders dispensed mead for those that eschewed the self-service option.

It seemed that most of them did so just for the opportunity to exchange a few happy words with the troll judging by the wide smiles on every face.

“He’s mostly got people teeth, just bigger,” Kat whispered.

“See? I told you.” Uncle Eron snorted. “Nadras is a vegetarian. We’re technically more evil than him when comparing diets.”

“Plants are alive,” Alin pointed out reasonably. “Druids say they feel pain. They even send messages to each other warning about things coming to harvest them or eat them. Kinda dark when you think about how they can’t exactly run away.”

“Not the weird ones. They can move and fight back,” his uncle pointed out just as reasonably.

“Technically true, but how often do we eat those kinds?”

“Magical cooking is ubiquitous in some places.” His uncle stared off into space for a moment. “I’ve seen mandrakes… not earth mandrakes, but the weird kind. Either they mutated or someone or something brought some seeds over from another world. They have faces. The way they scream when…” he shrugged. “I’ve been getting guiltier of late about the eating thing.”

“Well, you’re like a plant in one way. All you need is sunlight.”

His uncle sighed. “But that tastes like literal nothing.”

“You know we don’t eat anything sapient, right?” Kat rolled her eyes. “There’s a robust system in place to make sure of it. No one wants an accidental, evil cannibal class.”

“You can’t be a cannibal unless you eat the same species as you,” he said.

“Hmm, that is true to the definition, but how will the spires judge it if we eat another sapient species like our friend, Nadras?” Deirdre mused.

“We are technically flesheaters,” his uncle said. “Eh… it’ll be fine as long as you don’t self-identify as that or are forced to partake in a twisted ritual type thing.”

“I understood that the American flesheater problem had been dealt with many years ago. The parade of meats, correct?” Deirdre said.

“Meat Parade’s done. Flesheaters still pop up every once in a while, at least in places we can go to. But the last actual Meat Parade member we found was, like, 4 years ago.”

“That is good news!” Deirdre smiled. “Those that eat human flesh must be eradicated from existence without delays.” She punched her fist into her palm. The crack echoed like thunder momentarily bringing a hush over the crowd as heads swiveled looking for the source of the sound. “Sorry! Sorry!” she called out. “Your queen for the day was careless.”

The many runes on her arms lost their glow.

The noise had drawn the attention of the towering troll prince.

“Eron!”

The troll’s voice was like the rumbling of the earth or the grinding of boulders as they tumbled down a mountain slope.

Alin tamped down the flight or fight instinct as Nadras hurried from behind the bar to sweep his uncle up in a crushing hug. “What is this? You bring gifts?” he plucked the huge treasure chest with one long-fingered hand, palming it like a small ball.

“Actually, that’s from them,” his uncle nodded. “My nephew, Alin, and his girlfriend, Kat. Rayna’s Rangers. And the gifts are for everyone here, really, so don’t get greedy, Nadras.” His uncle pried himself free of the hug with ease to land back on the grass. “Alin, Kat, this is Gruntlerionadras. Prince of Trolls. I mean, he has the class, so you know it’s legit. Not that he’s much about his kingdom and what not.”

“I’m a mere prince of a minor kingdom. I certainly don’t claim to be one for my entire species on my original world. Let alone, the greater troll species across the spires multiverse.” The troll demurred. “And I prefer ‘Nadras’ from friends. Since you are kin to Eron, then I insist upon that address. None of that ‘your highness’ or ‘your majesty’ nonsense.” He rolled dark eyes. “I didn’t come to this world just to live the same life.”

“I’m happy to meet you, Nadras!” Kat smiled as she stuck out a hand, which the troll shook delicately. “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“From Eron?” Nadras said warily.

Kat nodded as Alin took the troll’s hand.

“It is unfair because Eron can’t get drunk,” Nadras sighed.

“Not entirely true,” his uncle said. “Some of that magic stuff you brew can get me a bit of a buzz… for like a minute…”

“Yes, yes,” Nadras waved a hand, “while I make a fool of myself.”

“Hey, man, I’m not making you drink.”

“It is the principle. My culture demands it.”

Alin took a moment to study the troll.

Towering.

Lanky and muscled in that wiry way.

The only articles of clothing Nadras wore were a man skirt and suspenders-like harness filled with tools and pouches along with large bags hanging from a thick leather belt.

Large from his human perspective. They looked small to medium-sized around the troll’s waist.

Gray-blue skin evoked images of a cold, frozen landscape with howling winds whipping snow and ice sideways.

Nadra’s face was actually comforting since it was human-like aside from a longer, hooked nose and long, knife-like ears that extend from the side of his head horizontally.

He suspected that his primal human instinctive fears, the uncanny valley, so to speak, weren’t triggered by Nadras’ smile because the teeth looked just like what he saw in the mirror.

Nope.

Not sharp and pointy at all.

Vegetarian, indeed.

He realized that fact went along way to ease him.

“Oh, right, our gifts. Do you guys have a freezer? Like a lot of them or a huge one? Like the size of a room?” he bent down and picked up the huge treasure chest awkwardly cradling it while he opened the lid.

It was a chest of holding, thus it only weighed about the same as a single plate, 45 kilograms, despite containing close to a half ton of—

“Ice cream! The 250 Flavors Initiative! A friend—” he felt the cheer and smile drift away like sand through his fingers. “Frequency was their name. A Threnosh. You might have heard.”

“We are aware of them,” Deirdre said. “We’ve actually made overtures in regards to trading, emigration and boring stuff like that. But, this ice cream initiative sounds more like what I’d be interested in!”

“We, we are interested!” Nadras bent down to peer into the chest. “Oh? These flavors…”

“Yeah, I figured you’d think they were cool after Uncle Eron told me about your brewery.”

Deirdre hummed. “Excuse me, I need to get a freezer tent set up and I’ll have to herd a few people to handle distribution.” She wandered away yelling at the top of her lungs for a freezer tent and loyal peons.

“Come,” Nadras took the chest out of his arms and beckoned, “I have freezing runes in the back.”

They followed the gray-blue troll through a curtain behind his bar.

“Oh, Nadras, he’s going to need that chest back,” his uncle said.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He had completely forgotten.

His uncle shrugged. “Your dad was very specific about not losing it.”

“I can see why Cal wouldn’t want to accidentally misplace this magic item. Its quality is on par with the best artifacts in my kingdoms real secret repository.” Nadras grunted appreciatively.

Alin had forgotten where his dad had won the chest from.

The army of clone rapists? The half blood, half cancer serpent demon? Or was that demon serpent? That sexual fiend traveling minstrel?

Meh.

It wasn’t that important to him.

“Nadras?” Kat said. “Did your kingdom have a fake secret repository?”

“Yes, of course, Ranger Kat. At least 3 that I knew of, which weren’t exactly the same 3 that any number of my siblings knew of. It always shifted, but I had narrowed it down to a little under 30 fake secret repositories.”

“That sounds… needlessly complicated.” The logistics of keeping that many stashes and all the items stored made his head hurt. His dad could’ve kept track, but that was because of psionic prime mental powers.

“I always thought so.” Nadras held the treasure chest in one hand while he cleared space on a large set of shelves affixed with runes glowing an icy blue while giving off a hint of condensation. “An entire mainframe had to be devoted to cataloging. Please don’t ask about the fake mainframes.”

“Please do,” Uncle Eron said.

Nadras sighed.

“Especially, what sort of information they kept on those fake mainframes.”

“Perverted pictures and recordings. Tiny cute animals doing cute things. Large ugly animals doing ugly things. So and so forth.”

“Oh, like those meme things?” Kat said.

“I guess,” he shrugged. It had been awhile since history class on pre-spires Internet. Some of it had been recreated in a way on the Omninet, but owing to his dad’s bias such ‘harmful and pointless content’ wasn’t allowed to proliferate like a ‘data plague’.

“Yeah, your dad’s the ‘man’,” his uncle said. “So much for freedom of speech, eh?”

“It’s old man talk,” he whispered to Kat.

She nodded.

Her parents were the same.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, Nadras?” Kat said.

“Hmm… good question. I believe I am roughly 310 years old. It’s hard to say because the measurement of time differs on your world compared to mine and the handful of other worlds I spent time in on my way here. My world is larger than yours and sits farther away from its sun.” The troll cleared enough space on his freezer shelves to turn his attention to the contest of the chest. “Ah! An inventory list. How helpful!”

“I picked every available flavor, but obviously went heavier on the normal ones.”

“Steak and fries? I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted ice cream like that.”

“Frequency was big on pioneering new frontiers, at least that’s what they said. So, not just sweet, but savory. I’m not a huge fan of the savory to be honest, but some of the spicy ones are pretty good.”

“I see. So many different pepper flavors. And mixed with citrus fruits.” Nadras grinned. “I’ve been experimenting with that myself for my meads! You must try some! Sweet and spicy, a perfect pairing.”

“Mango Habanero mead, sounds weird, but tastes pretty great. I used to bring literal tons of all sorts of produce before Nadras figured out how to grow them here,” his uncle added.

Chili peppers didn’t grow in cold climates, but what did that matter when one had access to magic and Skills.

“I would like to exchange notes with this Frequency, but, alas, you speak of them in the past tense,” Nadras said.

“Yeah.” He took a breath. Time healed wounds, but it didn’t make them disappear completely. He thought of Frequency. Then Jayde. Then Jayde’s kids still asking when their mommy was coming home. “A demigod murdered them.”

“Ah… no need to speak more. I believe I know the tale. Though they are gone. Cruelly taken from this world. We honor their craft.” Nadras regarded the flavor list for a long moment. “For the ones I recognize I know which will pair well with my brews, but your lamentably-departed friend’s farseeing is what appeals to me and I simply must secure the tundra lions share before young Deirdre returns.” He turned to Uncle Eron. “Out of all the kings and queens for the day and night, she is the most tyrannical. Thus, we must act quick. I will need aid in choosing my new, young friends— Ah! Forgive me. You are guests. Not apprentices.”

“We don’t mind helping,” Kat said.

“Uh… yeah.” He answered more at Kat’s poking finger in his ribs than at the troll’s words.

“Appreciated, but please, pick up a stein of my mead first.”

“I have been talking them up,” his uncle said.

“Any recommendations?” Kat said.

“None! For all are exemplary in their own ways!” Nadras beamed then cleared his throat. “Granted, taste is subjective.”

“Mango Habanero,” his uncle said as he headed out to the main area. “There’s also chili mango flavor. It’s just like those chili mangoes you guys love.”

“I know that one. You brought a barrel, like, a couple of Christmases ago. It was really good!”

“Choose what you wish,” Nadras said. “Save the mystery choice for later. And ask one of my apprentices for a bottle of sobering water. One bottle to one stein. You can drink to your heart’s content with only the loosening of your bladder to concern yourself with.” Nadras winked. “Not everyone can drink an ocean’s worth of mead with nary a wobble like your uncle.”

“Thank you, Nadras. We’ll be right back to help you pick out your flavors,” Kat said, dragging him by the arm out into the happy crowd to leave the troll prince and his uncle to begin the argument on which flavors paired best.

Eron strolled through the festival with a tray in one hand and a mead in the other.

Scents wafted from everywhere.

Human and animal scents combined with food and drink wasn’t the most aromatic, but he had years of practice focusing on what he wanted to smell and sending what he didn’t into an exile of sorts.

Thus, for all intents and purposes, he only smelled the savory and sweet.

He always appreciated the opportunity to stay in one place for a time and just watch and listen.

It was gratifying whenever he saw this place so happy and thriving.

Magic lights lit the air with a dazzling, constant show, while music weaved through, but never over the loud conversations.

He waved and exchanged greetings with people he recognized.

The passage of time for them always struck him.

Kids one year became parents the next or so it seemed.

The kids had done good to get to this point from where they had started.

Orphaned by a monstrous old man-thing and stolen away to torment deep beneath the Earth.

It was only luck that he had stumbled upon the evil creature plying his yuletide nightmare on the people in an isolated farmhouse.

More of those things had returned over the years. Not every year, but always around Christmas when they did.

The kids had exorcised their demons many times over without his help and for that he was grateful.

He listened for his nephew.

Boy and Kat were still helping Nadras curate a selection of ice cream flavors to go along with the troll prince’s meads.

They were discussing the potential of a mead float.

Nadras was balking at the marring of the purity of his brews.

Eron knew beer floats, had beer floats.

More during the pre-spires days, but he had on a handful of occasions made himself one at any number of abandoned grocery stores across the world to eat and drink on his flight to the next crisis.

“It could definitely work,” he murmured.

Not the savory flavors, because that was just weird, unless it was a mix of maple and bacon or salt and caramel he wasn’t interested.

He switched the mead stein onto the tray so he could grab a chunk of smoked brisket.

Beef, pork and chicken.

Smoked, grilled and roasted.

The greatest trinity known to humankind.

He had already eaten half the tray, which was enough for a family of 4… all adults, no kids.

The stein he emptied in a handful of gulps. Fortunately, Nadras had set up refilling stations all over the festivals grounds. One was never too far from the life-giving liquid.

Arms wrapped around his neck from behind.

“Eron! We’ve found you!”

He had allowed it.

He had heard Olga coming, but she liked thinking she could catch him off guard so he let her, sometimes.

“We? I did the tracking.”

He turned with a grin and a hug for Eric.

The woodsman’s runes dimmed as he returned the hug.

“Alright, Olga, less choking, please.”

“Ha! Like I could do that!” Olga laughed. She was the youngest of the 7 and the smallest. Neither had changed.

He patted her on the head, forgetting that she was a grown woman and not a child.

It had taken him decades, but he understood why the old people in his family used to say that he’d always look like a child in their eyes.

“Why are you walking and eating? There are plenty of tables,” Eric said.

Unlike with Olga, Eron had to look up.

Eric’s face had weathered more since the last time. Picked up a few more scars too.

Lean, lanky and tall like the pine trees in the surrounding forests.

The tallest of the 7 in fact. Yet, he could slip through those forests quieter than the rest despite being almost 7 feet tall.

“Well, if I keep moving then I won’t get random challenges to arm wrestle or throw rocks and trees.”

Olga pouted. “Awww, but everyone loves that.”

“And they will get it. I just wanted to eat, drink and people watch for a bit. I don’t get the chance to do that often.”

Plus, he wanted to look alert in case the wrong eyes were somehow watching undetected.

He’d need to act quick in case of demigod teleport if he wanted to take the fight away from the crowd.

He wasn’t enjoying the festival just because.

There was purpose and that was to keep watch over his nephew and, by extension, Kat.

Cal didn’t believe that the demigod knew that Boy was his son.

But why risk it?

So, Eron would stay nearby as Boy did the thing with the ritual circles in the forests and the nearby abandoned and populated towns and cities.

He almost hoped that the demigod would show up.

It would’ve simplified things.

But, most importantly, it would mean that Boy’s dumb plan wouldn’t need doing.

“You guys like ice cream, right?”

“Who doesn’t?” Olga said.

“Me,” Eric said flatly.

She jabbed him in the ribs. “You’re just trying to maintain that lone wolf image,” she scoffed. “We’ve all seen you sneaking down to the kitchen when you think no one is watching.”

Eric snorted. “I have magic senses. I know when no one is watching.”

“Well, my nephew brought 250 flavors. If you hurry to Nadras’ tent then you might beat Deirdre there before she takes most of it away.”

“Oh! Your nephew! I must meet him!” Olga said.

“I would be good to go over the escort and defense plan I put together for the expeditions,” Eric said.

“No! Bad, Eric!” Olga elbowed the towering man in the ribs. “We talked about this. No Quest talk until tomorrow.”

“You got a Quest already?” he kept his face even and his tone light.

That might not mean anything and even if it heralded some unexpected difficulties he was present.

“Ah, yes, very minor. Escort there. Guard. Escort back. Standard stuff,” Eric said.

“Escort Quests are the worst.”

“Eh, harder in video games than in real life. Real people usually behave smarter.”

“Not always, kid.” He sighed. “Why don’t you guys go say high to my nephew and his girlfriend? Sample some weird ice cream?”

“Where will you be?” Olga said.

“Well, I’m going to finish this,” he gestured at his meat tray, “then I’ll wander around eating pastries. I’m sure you’ll be able to track me down again.”

“Okay. See you later, Eron! Don’t fly away,” Olga said.

The two not-kids walked away.

3 out of the 7.

Thor and Jonas were out in the forests dealing with a minor problem.

He could hear Sven in the distance muttering darkly about Deirdre cheating the dice roll, which meant he had to stay in the town to command the garrison until tomorrow when they’d rotate.

Ingri was in the petting zoo area yelling at kids to not put their hands inside the war goats’ mouths.

He supposed that seemed like a good place to be.

He could say hello and make sure dumb kids didn’t lose fingers.

They could be reattached, regrown or replaced with better materials, but it was best not to encourage such things.

It made young people too reckless, but that might have been the old man thoughts.

“Siri!”Ingri bellowed. “Out! Now! I told you already! Why are you so interested in her teeth?”

The girl in question pouted and stomped out of the pen and into her laughing father’s arms.

“You’re banned for the rest of the festival!” Ingri pointed at the girl.

“That’s a little harsh. You don’t bring the bite-y war goats to this thing.”

“Eron!”

Hug.

War goats bleated jealously, but then realized who he was and decided the attentions of the giggling children and the feed were better.

“You’re here!” Ingri grinned.

“Pastry?” He held out the tray.

“Did you clean out Mrs. Solberg’s stand? For shame.”

“In my defense, I paid her a lot of Universal Points. Now she can enjoy the rest of the day, maybe even the rest of the festival without having to bake and man her stall.”

“Double shame. You know we don’t do that sort of thing for the festivals. You donate what you feel is right and they donate to you in return for your own goods and services. The council covers most of the costs for ingredients and everyone gains points and maybe a level or three from the spires depending on how good they fulfill their classes.” Ingri tutted. “I know Mrs. Solberg, she’s a level chaser. She’ll take the break you’ve given her to bake even more. It’s bit unfair, no? What about the others?”

“The festival’s not over and I have a bottomless stomach.”

“Yes, yes. You do the thing Sven always nags us about. The economy crashing thing,” she shrugged.

“Oh? You think he won’t accept my summer solstice donation to the town?”

“Hush! Don’t speak a thing we will all regret.”

“Speaking of regrets. Remember the last time I visited?”

“Yes?”

“I forgot to bring what I promised.” He reached into his bag of holding and pulled out a large, cold plastic cup filled with… a lot of different things.

“Halo-halo!” Ingri pumped her fist and snatched it out of his hand.

“Straight from the Philippines.”

She devoured a huge spoonful. “I try to copy it with what I can get from the stores in the old town, but it’s never close. No ube and coconut and the boys keep voting against adding them to Nadras’ greenhouses. They’re doing it on purpose, Eron. Tell them to stop.” The grown, rune warrior woman’s whine took him back a few decades.

“Yeah, I figured, so… do you have space in your bag of holding?” He started pulling cup after cup of halo-halo from his bag.

“Skål!” She thrust her cup to the sky.

Random passersby and parents watching from the fence raised their steins and glasses to echo her call.

“I must get more bags! Here!” She pushed her bag into his chest. “I’ll be right back! Don’t let the goats bite anyone!”

So said, Ingri leapt astride one of the war goats.

Tattooed runes on her skin glowed.

A faint glow emerged from underneath the war goat's fur.

With a great booming bleat the huge beast leapt into the sky and ran toward the town to the cheers of the people watching.

“You guys are something else.” He sighed. “Kids, who wants to help put these things into Ingri’s bag?”

Silence.

“I’ll fly whoever helps around the festival. Twice.”

The race was on.

There was some spillage, but that was okay.

He had close to a hundred cups of halo-halo in his bag of holding.

And as an added bonus, none of the kids were in biting range while they were jostling each other to put cups into bag.

Flying a dozen kids around the festival a few times each was a small price to pay all things considered.