Chapter 10 : Eat the Bugs

Mnemon Rhomon, Sorcerer

Realm Year 764, Ascending Wood

Forest of Compassion, An-Teng, Satrapy of the Realm

“Sir Rhomon. May you permit us a question?” Shuri asked as they entered another room. A long row of beds with adjacent shallow channels greeted them. The beds were padded at some point, but the fabrics and silks that composed the bedding had long rotted away, leaving stonework caked in a fine layer of dust. 

Those beds all had corpses laid out upon them. Bare bones still largely intact, some curled in pain, others dangling off the side, and others simply laid out with hands folded over their chests. Thin layers of decayed garments robed them.

“What’s the question?” Rhomon asked with a tilt of his head, holding his staff up and using its light to guide them. He walked over to the first corpse, delicately inspecting it for any belongings, inspecting the dresser and shallow channel, and moving on. This was a room for already treated patients, from what he could tell, or maybe those deemed largely incurable. 

“Perhaps it is our ignorance, for we were never the most dutiful students among our brothers, but…” Shuri hesitated, glancing at the corpses and across the many dead laid out. “...Earlier, a fae called Balor and something called the Great Contagion was mentioned, and we are ignorant of both.”

Rhomon glanced over at the snake-prince with a raised brow. The polite prince had his hands brought together, fingertips touching, and an abashed expression on his scale-freckled face. “Is it common knowledge? Forgive us this.”

“Hm.” Rhomon hummed, reaching up to scratch the side of his head briefly, closing his eye in thought. “Well, it was nearly seven hundred years ago, so I suppose it’s not exactly common knowledge. It’s much more important to the Realm than most modern states.”

“Seven hundred years? Oh-!” Shuri looked like he realized something, but paused and bowed his head slightly. “We believe we know what these things are- but please continue, sir Rhomon.”

“You know what a fae is, correct?” Rhomon asked, moving to the next corpse and gently removing its necklace and ring, putting both into his bag. 

“Terrible and beautiful folk from the Wyld, who invade to sup upon the souls of men and leave them as husks.” Shuri answered firmly, nodding twice, locks of hair bouncing as he did. 

“Once, a great champion rose among their ranks, the Faelord Balor.” Rhomon narrated as he moved to the next corpse, looking it over. “A great plague was unleashed upon Creation by the greatest and most wicked ghosts of the Underworld, and we called it the Great Contagion. So infectious that it could spread by sight, so deadly that nine tenths of all things that were infected died. Men, beasts, trees- everything. Then, these terrible ghosts invited Balor into Creation, to cause further destruction, and Balor brought his awful hosts en masse.”

He reached the next corpse, pausing briefly at the pair of fine boots at the end of the bed. Utterly untouched by the passing of time, they were still in perfect condition. He inspected them briefly before slipping them into his bag and continuing the story. “Balor was eventually betrayed and slain by his subordinate lords, who continued to march into Creation. They reached the shore of the Inner Sea, and then were blasted wholly out of the world by the Realm Defense Grid.”

“Ancient weapons of the first age that the Scarlet Empress claimed and used to legitimize her claim to the Blessed Isle.” Rhomon explained as an aside, making Shuri nod quickly. 

“Our people have records of these things, though we do not call them by these names.” Shuri gave him an empty bag and took the full bag from him. “We were still disparate tribes at that point, quick in our warring and breeding both, sustained by the blessings of our Great Mother. The champions among us still bore the heads and legs of snakes.”

“Legs of Snakes?” Rhomon interrupted briefly, gesturing down at his legs.

“Ah…” Shuri paused, rolling his hands. “The legs were a snake’s tail?” He gestured at his hips and then pulled it down across the side of his legs, locking them together briefly. 

“Ah! I understand.” Rhomon nodded. Mermaid-style. Shuri’s slightly foreign origins made it difficult to parse what he meant at times. 

“Nine tenths of us died to the Sickness of Wasting Scales, but great dyings were not unknown to us, and our champions gathered to discuss this sudden death. It was then that the armies of fae marched into our lands and camps, and began to destroy all in their wake.” Shuri shook his head. “Our champions slew ten of theirs, but they numbered the hundreds, and so we retreated into ancient fortresses and resolved to defeat them with numbers of our own.”

“Our population grew as quickly as we could manage, and our children learned the sword before they could walk, and the siege of the fae lasted for years. Soon, over ten-thousand corpses of our young, we broke the siege and began to push out, reclaiming our old lands.” Shuri spoke sadly. “When our people emerged, none of us had the heads or legs of serpents, and we were weary of sending children to their deaths. It was then our chieftains turned their backs on barbarian ways, and resolved to live the ways of peaceful civilization.”

Shuri paused, then reached up to scratch his cheek. “Well, that is how the story is told. We have not heard it in several years now.”

“It sounds plausible.” Rhomon nodded, reaching the final corpse and looking it over. Nothing but an old book clutched in its hands. A book with the cover rotten into nothing and pages made of scattered dust. “Very few nations endured the Balorian Crusade, and those that did were forever altered by its wake.” 

“...Forgive me, sir Rhomon, but you imply that this was something all of Creation experienced…?”

“Because it was. The Great Contagion and Balorian Crusade both.” Rhomon nodded, making the snake-prince give a sharp, distressed hiss. “Their crusade was simultaneous and all-encompassing, invading from all corners of the world at once. It is perhaps the only thing that every nation shares as a common history in the last thousand years.”

He waved his hand as they entered the ruined hallways again, walking down to the next room. “Scenes such as these? Each one is a tragedy, none of them unique. Creation is littered with the ruins of those two events.”

He paused as he entered the next room. Shuri stared at the back of his head, then leaned forwards to look over his shoulder.

A sharp inhale followed. The snake prince reared back and clasped a hand over his mouth. 

Rhomon stepped forwards slowly, pausing at the first set of bones. Small, small bones, clutched around an ancient doll, still perfectly preserved by some quirk or lingering magic. The doll was made of silk, with a blue dress and red hair. 

He reached forwards and compared his hands to the hands of the skeleton. The fingers of the skeleton, even if they were fully splayed, would fit comfortably in his palm.

He pulled his gaze away from the first bed, raising his staff and pointing it forwards, letting the light shine clearer over the rest of the chamber. 

All but one of the skeletons were small, almost as small as the first one, curled up and clinging to rotten sheets, clad in withered robes. 

“...Sir Rhomon, We request to linger, long enough to grant burial to all interred within this manse.”

“We’ll clear a space for a great fire, before we leave.” Rhomon affirmed with an expressionless face, his lone bronze eye dragging slowly across the array of corpses. “Their ashes will scatter with the winds, and return to elemental essence.”

It would take awhile, but it was worth doing.

—

By the time they returned to the entrance lobby, the corpses of the many fae warriors were stripped of their arms and armor, and stacked in the corner of the room. A wide space in the center of the chamber had been cleared out, and Brahm had set up a fire and a suspended pot. 

“What are you cooking?” Rhomon asked, setting the full bag next to his other bags of supplies. Shuri followed, setting the fourth back down and dusty lockbox down. 

“Centipede.” Brahm replied, staring at the pot. Rhomon blinked, exchanging a glance with Shuri.

“Cousin! Did you find the heart chamber?!” Siata asked cheerfully, a pile of damaged armor sitting next to him, a skeleton laid out on a table, and a delicate cloth spread out over it. The shattered grand daiklave was mostly re-assembled, laid out next to the armor. 

“We did.” Rhomon nodded, reaching into his ragged coat and pulling out the compass, and from there the renewed hearthstone. The cloudy-orange stone now shone with an inner light, displaying its magnificent power in resonance with his own energies. “I’ve already attuned to the location. All that’s left is to perform the funerals and distribute the surviving treasures appropriately.”

He paused, tapping on his chin. “I’ll ward the manse again before we leave, to help deter intruders, but from there it's off to The Lap.”

“The Lap?!” Siata replied, snapping his little journal closed and pushing up, walking over to talk more directly. “That’s nearly a thousand miles east, cousin. Whatever do we need there?!”

“There’s an old man who has been driven to insanity through torture there, and this is a gemstone of mental wellness.” Rhomon explained, sitting down next to the fire and resting his weary legs with a sigh. “He’s the entire reason we came to this manse in the first place, to have his mind restored.”

“Ah- so the hearthstone allows its wielder to heal with a touch.” Siata nodded with a smile, opening his mouth to continue. Rhomon cut him off before he could.

“No, the gemstone actually heals its attuned bearer of any derangements, supposedly.” Rhomon shook his head. “We’ll need to escort him from The Lap back to here, and guide him through the process of attunement. Once that is done, the gem will restore his mind, and my mission in An-Teng will be done.”

“Ah, is this why you went to the Pinnacle of Mercy after my riverboat party?” Siata asked with a snap of his fingers. “The God of An-Teng asked you to do this favor for him, I bet!”

Actually, his prayer at the Pinnacle of Mercy hadn’t accomplished anything. He had just knelt there for hours, requesting an audience and never receiving one. “Mhm. Something like that.”

“Hahah! What excitement!” Siata laughed, throwing his head back. “Allow me to aid you on this, cousin!”

“You already said you would.” Rhomon pointed out with a smirk.

“I did?” Siata asked with a raised brow. 

“You said you would pay for all our expenses for a month.” Rhomon nodded firmly with a raised index finger. “We’re going to need a good cart, a beast of burden to pull it, rations of food for the journey, a good map of the roads… All of that is going to cost money, of course.”

“Ah… of course, haha…” Siata chuckled slightly nervously. “I can make the necessary arrangements when we get back to proper civilization- wait.” He blinked, pausing as he realized something. “Why don’t we simply take a ship to The Lap and back? It would be swifter and safer, no doubt.”

“I have no expectations we’ll be able to convince the patient onto a boat.” Rhomon shook his head. “Overland is much more likely, and besides, don’t you wish to see the wonders between here and the Lap too?”

“Centipede is done.” Brahm replied, opening the pot and revealing the thoroughly boiled chunks of bug meat and shell. He used a long fork to skewer them, pulling it out onto a wooden plate. From there he opened a few clay jars of salt and allspice, and applied it liberally to both. 

“Do your vows allow you to eat this?” Rhomon asked with furrowed brows, reaching out to tap one of the steaming bug chunks by the side. 

“It's not red meat, nor fowl.” Brahm replied with a frown and suspicious squint. The monk looked equally unsure about the meal before him. 

“Have you… eaten a giant centipede before, Immaculate Brahm?” Siata asked with a raised brow and a wary look to the meat hunks. Brahm shook his head and reached out, taking a hunk up with both hands and ripping it in half, taking a brave bite of the boiled bug flesh within. 

Several long seconds passed in silence, as the monk chewed on the boiled bug. 

“...Hm.” The monk hummed, taking another bite, expression flat. It was impossible to determine exactly what he was thinking. 

Shuri reached out and took up one of the bug hunks for himself, likewise cracking it in half with his bare hands and taking an adventurous nibble. A few moments passed as he chewed, and then his features lit up in delight. “Mhm!” He hummed, chewing faster and taking another bite. “It’s quite good!”

Rhomon and Siata exchanged glances. Rhomon reached over and grabbed a chunk for himself, holding it by the edges on account of its heat, and used his thumbs to crack the shell along a natural fault and expose the meat within. He took a bite of the salted, boiled bug.

Gritty, mushy, livery, almost-medicinal in flavor meat greeted him. His face twisted up unpleasantly as he chewed, forcing his way through the meal aided only by a generous sprinkle of salt.

“Blagh!” Siata gagged, almost dropping his hunk of centipede. “That’s- it's foul!” He complained with an affronted expression and misery in his eyes. 

“Do you find it unpleasant?” Shuri asked with wide eyes and a bewildered tone, taking another bite of the boiled bug. 

“Yes!” Siata complained. “It’s like- I can’t even describe it!”

“It’s not good, no.” Brahm shook his head.

Rhomon furrowed his brows, considering the bug for a few moments. Raising it up again, he took an experimental chomp of the shell, crunching down and chewing through. Siata and Brahm both looked at him as if he had done something terribly odd.

“Oh.” Rhomon muttered in realization. “It’s like shrimp.” He nodded, chewing through the hard, firm layer of chitin. “If you removed the organs first, then boiled it long enough to make it firm, then added butter I bet it would taste great.” He commented with a nod. “Butter and some hot spices, I think.”

“You think so?” Brahm asked, taking a bite of the shell himself. His teeth loudly crunched the slightly brittle shell, brows furrowed. After a few moments of chewing, he slowly nodded. “Maybe… I’ll try that next time.”

“I don’t think you can fix this…” Siata groused, putting the chunk of bug back down onto the plate and airing his tongue out, a sickly looking pallor on his face. 

“I saw you eat a psychedelic beetle and snort a line of cocaine on your partyboat.” Rhomon pointed out dryly, taking another bite of the giant centipede, carefully avoiding the parts that looked like organs. The flesh tasted something like shrimp and grass on its own. 

“And-and what does that have to do with this, cousin?!” Siata growled, gesturing at the beetle and back to him.

“Intoxicants are a dozen times more nauseating than a big boiled bug with salt.” Rhomon replied, taking another bite. Brahm gave a firm nod and hummed in agreement through a mouthful of insect flesh and shell. 

Siata sighed dramatically and raised both hands in a helpless shrug. “This Immaculate is a terrible influence on you, cousin. Look at what you’re saying! A party without intoxicants- is that even a party?! All you’re left with is courtesans and company after!”

“I don’t go to parties anyways, so I wouldn’t know.” Rhomon shook his head, turning his gaze ahead again. Shuri was cheerfully chowing down on Siata’s discarded share, eyes closed and a smile on his puffed cheeks as he munched. 

“And it’s a terrible shame! How are you to make any friends among proper society if you don’t go where they are, cousin!” Siata chopped a hand at him, sounding quite distressed on his behalf. 

“This is going to sound insane, I know, but I have no interest in being friends with opium addicts and slave-masters.” Rhomon replied dryly, taking another large bite of his bug, the flavor disappearing once his mind stopped focusing on it. 

“Eh, slave-masters? You mean other Dragonblooded? What’s wrong with that?” Siata asked with a raised brow. “I can perhaps understand the aversion to intoxicants, given your company with the Immaculate, but-”

“People aren’t property, Siata.” Rhomon declared bluntly, giving his ‘cousin’ a hard stare. Siata’s brows pulled together in vague confusion. 

“Well how else will we Dragons show those barbarians the proper manners of civilization?” Siata asked with a raised finger. “It’s why the Realm has slavery banned beyond the Dragonblooded of the Realm- mortals enslaving mortals doesn’t accomplish anything at all, I certainly agree with that, if that’s what you meant!”

“Fascinating.” Rhomon drawled sarcastically, pushing up from his seat and walking towards the doors leading back into the deeper manse. “I’m going to start collecting the bodies. Brahm, Shuri, would you mind clearing a space and gathering the wood for a funerary pyre?”

“Alright.”

“We shall, sir Rhomon!” Shuri sounded chipper and refreshed after the hearty meal of a fairly gross bug. Maybe his tastebuds were simply wired differently?

Behind him, Siata stared at nothing in particular, a puzzled look on his face. 

It was important to not let any being of power drag you into an extended debate about anything, lest you lose sight of everything you cared about. Idly, Rhomon considered how he might go about creating a spell or potion that might fortify his beliefs against supernatural persuasions.

What animals were stubborn…? Boars, Bulls, Mules? There might be something he could work with there.