The Warmest Reception

With the morning’s revelation weighing heavily on my heart, I haul myself up into the carriage. I don’t have time to ruminate on what Leia just dropped on me. We’re headed to the College. Not any part of the College I’d seen before, but rather, a special wing where Volcan, the rumored “friendly” Slime Lord resides voluntarily.

I barely notice the previously wonderful sights and sounds as we cross onto the campus. A team of College mages, decked out in special red-gold robes, meets us at the entrance to an imposing arena-shaped building with a massive, red, glowing orb towering from its center.

It’s still pretty much winter in these parts. As we walk down the long, straight concrete path to the front entrance, I notice it’s getting warmer, and warmer still. By the time we reach the door, it must be 85 degrees. Like summertime, where I come from. From the entrance atrium, we arrive at a control room of sorts. Lots of magical screens, scientists, and great, big windows overlooking this arena. It’s verifiably toasty in here.

Stepping around some of the eggheads, I finally get my first look at this much-rumored gelatin king of fire. This building was definitely some kind of sports arena at one point. Vast, high walls surround him in a big circle, with countless rows of solid, concrete seating. The arena floor is sand, but the red glow of the barrier dome above Volcan glistens down onto a circle in his vicinity. It was sand at one point; now it’s glass, melted by the extreme heat. Unlike Uragas, he wears no hat, not like one would survive on his head anyway. It’s tough to get a good look at him because of the hazy, broiling heat in the air, but he appears a pale red color.

One of the scientists approaches me. “Chief, we’ve tried our best to find a way for the two of you to easily communicate. We have two approaches in mind. One, visually. Second, by audio. We can try and combine the two. Neither have been tested.”

You people didn’t test this before I rode all the way over here?

I let out a disappointed sigh. 

“Let’s do both.”

“Very well, sir.”

They place me in front of what appears to be an old-timey microphone. Silver, slotted, and particularly large. As I step into place, I see a magical screen appear in the stadium. It’s me. The screen is having trouble dealing with Volcan’s radiation; it’s got a familiar sort of static noise, scan lines, like an old television with a bad signal.

The scientist gives me the signal to go.

“Slime Lord Volcan. My name is John, I have been appointed the new Chief of Police of Laios.”

A screen pops up below the window. It’s Volcan’s response, with a sort of warped, deeply-pitched audio feed.

“HAHAHAHAHA.”

He’s laughing?

It continues.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”

I turn and glare at both Leia and the scientists. They offer a sort of apologetic, whimpering gaze.

The floor starts shaking.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

The temperature readouts on the scientists’ screens are going well into the red. They began running around in a frenzy, busily tapping away at their consoles.

I decide to push back a bit.

“Is there something you find funny about me, sir?”, I announce into the microphone.

The scientists immediately go quiet. Leia is glaring at me, almost in fear.

“YOU are the first human to address me without kneeling and offering me a gift.”

I turn and give that head scientist the most scarcely-veiled, angry look I can possibly muster. This idiot didn’t tell me anything about gifts. I can barely contain how upset I am. If looks could kill, mine would.

“I appreciate it, JOHN. Such ceremony becomes tiring.”, the slime continues.

The scientists breathe an audible sigh of relief as the temperature within the arena calms down.

“What I find funny about you, is that you have no hair!”

I turn bright red. Excuse me?

“It’s not by choice, sir.”

The temperature spikes in the dome again.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”, the slime roars.

I’ve had to remove guys like this from bars before. It doesn’t feel great getting mocked by a 10 ton blob of goo. A living heatpack. I don’t dare fire back at him, however.

“To business.” The slime’s booming voice has taken on a more academic tone.

“I have heard that you have made a move against His Eminence Uragas the Fifteenth. It’s important for you humans to understand how our politics operate. Under no circumstances will I help or aid you, provide intelligence, or even give you hints as to matters involving him. My child, Hue, is a gift to the government for their patronage, not to you in particular.”

I take this opportunity to interrupt.

“Sir, are you saying that you are unable to defeat Uragas?”

The scientists once again are barely able to contain their fear. I spy one making his way to the door.

To my surprise, Volcan just erupts in an uproarious bout of laughter. The arena flashes with an intense red glow.

“OF COURSE I CAN!”, he manages to boom between belly laughs.

“I just don’t want to! And you can’t make me, either. Honestly, you are one of the most entertaining human visitors I’ve ever had. Please, feel free to come by any time. I can show you some of my favorite tricks. Right now, I have some business to attend to. Goodbye, John.”

The magical screen snaps out of existence, and the microphone’s cord is precisely burned away at the point it plugs into the console, letting out a nasty, sulphuric wisp of smoke.

I turn to look at this room full of eggheads. They have a mixture of abject terror, fear, and respect on their faces. Even Leia is standing there with a confused, strange look on her face.

“What?” I throw up my hands. “What’s the matter with you people?”

The head scientist, who has fully earned my rueful disappointment, speaks up, meekly.

“Sir John, the last person who spoke out of turn to Volcan was incinerated on the spot. He kills his visitors for fun. In my 40 years, I have never seen a human speak to a Slime Lord as you just did.”

Oh. That makes sense. It would have been nice of you people to tell me beforehand.

“Is that it?”, I ask. The scientists, their hands visibly shaking, return to their work, piecemeal.

Leia and I walk out of the control room together in silence. I study her face as we head out into the courtyard. She looks really, really tired. Depressed, even. It occurs to me that this meeting was a complete, abject failure. But then again, I didn’t expect any more than that. Was she worried about me? Or, did she expect more? Given how exhausted she looks, I shouldn’t pry into it.

The air cools off a bit as we walk further away from the arena. I spy a tall, lanky, high-ranking elven mage waiting for us at the end of the walkway. That’s Kalth! He’s standing with his arms crossed, tapping his foot. As we get closer, he starts walking towards us. Is he pissed off or something?

He storms up to me and stops, his ridiculously tall personage towering over me. Leia has shrinked into invisibility, almost hiding in plain sight to avoid Kalth’s fiery gaze.

“John, one of my scientists just gave me a report.”

Yes, he is indeed pissed off.

“You insulted Volcan to his face?”

I quickly interject in my defense.

“I don’t believe insulted is the correct term, sir.”

“Do you have ANY IDEA of the danger that you just put my scientists, and this entire facility in by pulling that stunt?”

He’s positively seething. I suppose keeping a handle on Volcan is one of his responsibilities.

“Kalth, that report you received was from a scientist with a particularly weak constitution. Volcan and I got along splendidly. If those scientists did their job, you should be able to watch the recording. I’m sorry that they misrepresented what happened in there.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer.

“Oh? They misrepresented it? We’ll see about that. We will see.”

He turns with a dramatic flip of his long, fancy cape and storms away.

What the hell did those eggheads tell him? Why did I get the impression that Kalth thinks even less of the scientists than I do? Leia comes out of hiding, gently takes my arm and leads me onwards. Between the time I’d looked at her arm and looking up again, Kalth had vanished.

As we climb back into the carriage, I’m hit with that same fatigue that she appears to have. What a day. I need a drink, pronto. A couple of drinks. The instant I think this, the other half of my stress crashes over, coursing through my mind. My son.

I’m going to need at least three drinks. The carriage bumps and plods its way on down the road.