in which the lord of darkness goes on vacations

The luxury resort had a bizarre amount of palm trees considering how common they were in the region. For the month or so they’d traveled here, Frell had drawn twenty-nine species of palm tree and counting.

With how often locals had tried to destroy him this past couple of days, it’d be unwise to walk through the front door. The good guards tried, and failed, to sneak him in through a window.

“Hurry,” the blonder, smaller one said. “If we don’t… the god of evil will return…”

The larger one with strawberry blond hair stood on the balcony of the third floor, where Frell’s suite awaited. They’d tied Frell and were trying to pull him up that way, but the ropes kept snapping. In the end, he had to intervene. “Hey.”

The guards jumped.

“Don’t worry, the Demon King—not the god of evil, remember—is taking a nap, so I’ve regained control of my body for now. I’ll release the stone seal and—”

“No!” The blonder one said. “Don’t. Please, um, your holiness. We love apples.”

Oh, right, he was supposed to be the god of apples now. That didn’t even exist. The goddess of palm trees did, though. “I know you do. We’ll be here all day if you two keep trying to pull a statue with rope.”

The guards exchanged glances, but the strawberry one shook his head anyway. The blonder one hid the trembling on his hand by scratching his arm.

Frell nudged his chin at the strawberry one. “Hey, you, toss me a blanket?”

After frantically nodding, the guy at the third story did just that. Frell tossed it upon himself. “See? Now my face has been hidden. Just pretend like I’m a sculpture and we can sneak in that way.”

Nobody replied.

“...hello?”

“F-forgive me, your excellence.” That was the blonder one. “I wasn’t sure if you could, um, walk without aid...? Is that not hard with your current... configuration...?"

"My eyes are covered," Frell replied, then remembered he was supposed to be a statue. To be made of stone did not imply a lack of mobility, however, and anyone believing otherwise had no creativity left in them. "Uh... right, that's fine. Just ignore anyone who asks how I'm moving. I just need someone to tell me where I'm going because, again, I can't see anything right now."

“I-I understand. Alphonse? Would you help the deity—don’t hide in the suite, you pusillanimous traitor!”

“I won't hurt you," Frell reminded.

“Yes. Yes, of course, your holiness. Your graciousness is unmatched.”

He might as well be talking to actual statues. Because the blonder guard was too scared to properly guide him into the hotel, Frell said, “Sure. Alright, let’s do the following: I’ll give you a talisman. Put it on my back. It’ll look like it’s a spell to make the stone temporarily mobile… are you listening…”

“Yes…”

Sighing, Frell reached into his pocket before handing out the talisman. To the guard’s credit, he followed instructions after that. It would’ve been amusing to see peoples’ reaction at a walking statue covered by a blanket, but alas—no amount of divine power could defeat a piece of fabric.

Because the guard still refused to touch him, on the way to his suite, Frell slammed into a wall, a plant, the girl at the front desk, and fell off the stairs twice.

“The laziness of some people,” a guest mumbled. “Instead of carrying that… whatever that thing is, they rely on talismans. Is each generation getting worse?”

(No.)

A long time ago, one of the Primordial Gods—one of six, before Frell was forced to ascend—had said the following: “Eventually, everything that can happen will happen.”

This was proven true when, an indeterminate amount of time later, Frell and the less pusillanimous guard finally reached the door to his room. He only knew this because the guard whispered, “...your excellence?”

“The Demon King is still taking a nap,” Frell replied.

“Oh. Still?”

“He’s a very heavy sleeper.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. I have opened the door for you. Please walk ahead.”

Frell did. The door closed behind him. “We’re alone, right? Can I take off this thing now?”

Whispers.

“Guys?”

One of them was breathing heavily.

“...wait. Surely, you two aren’t thinking of—”

Something hit the back of his head.

Something sharp.

Frell stumbled forward as blood oozed down his neck. These two had never killed and it showed; they’d hesitated. They hadn’t even aimed correctly. “Foolish,” he mumbled.

The guards did not reply. One of them dropped a short, dripping blade.

By the time they thought to run, Frell had taken off the blanket, thrown a locking spell at the door, and said, “Scream and you’re dead.”

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Considering the way locals shut the door in her face—understandably, given recent events—to get a volunteer in two days was a miracle. Highly suspicious, too, but that could be dealt with later.

The new guy showed up late at night to the only tavern that let Pebble in. Its tables were, shockingly, not clay squares; they were circles. Pebble was drinking a double choco hazelnut milkshake with caramel swirls. In lieu of a greeting, the recruit shoved the bounty notice in her face. “I’m interested,” he said.

More men, huh…

A woman would’ve been nice…

Pebble’s last meaningful interaction with one before the stuck-up Saintess had been her mom… months ago…

“When will I get paid?”

“Upon completion,” Pebble replied. Her voice was muffled by the paper. “Alright, great. We’re leaving now. I’ll inform our other companion.”

Removing the paper revealed someone who sounded older than he looked. Baby faces weren’t her type, and neither were men who wore all black. “Now?” He asked. “You won’t—you won’t even test me or anything? Or even ask for my name?”

“No need.”

“Huh?”

She stood up, draining the milkshake on her way to the counter. By the time she reached it, the glass was empty, and she placed an experimental turtle (currency, not the animal) next to it as a “tip”. As Pebble turned around, through a hand mirror she took out of her satchel, she caught the recruit snatching the coin. She was neither surprised nor disappointed.

…oh, well. She just needed a body count to fill Frell’s stupid requirement anyway.

Alpherson was in town due to a “book tour”, whatever that was. He’d given Pebble his itinerary so she’d know where to find him at any given time; during this time of the night, he was having a “social dinner”. As opposed to Pebble’s antisocial one?

The thief followed after her, hands in his pockets. His eyes were the color of amber, though one was duller than the other, adorned with a scar that started over his eyebrow and ended right under his lip. When it came to blemishes like that, Pebble always wondered what brand of insanity the attackers must’ve possessed. Why not strike at the neck or the back of the head instead?

At the entrance of the social dinner restaurant thing, Pebble flashed the invitation card Alpherson had given her. The guard there didn’t even look at it. “We’re full.”

“I just have to look for someone.”

“We can’t let anyone else in. I’m sorry.”

‘You’ll be sorrier if you don’t let me in.’ Pebble wanted to say that, but this man was just doing his job. The social diner was a two-story building with a balcony that’d probably brim with guests were it not for the eternal rain. It’d be easy to break in—she was already hated anyway. “Fifty turtles if you find a man called Alpherson,” Pebble told the guard.

After considering his options—being annoying or getting a day’s worth of work—he wisely opted for the latter. “Why not beat him up?” Asked the thief once they were alone.

“That’s not nice.”

“...so?”

Pebble lifted the umbrella a bit to look at the thief. He was letting the rain soak him. “If you’d read the bounty, you’d know that not anyone can defeat the Demon King. He feeds off evil, so if you’re mean, your attacks won’t work against him.”

“Oh, I read it. I was just wondering what the problem was, since you destroyed a mountain and half a block yesterday. Auntie’s been staying at my place.”

Thus she lowered the umbrella lest he see her expression. “I’ve been trying to talk to the locals to set up a payment plan, but none of them are talking to me. But if one of them is your aunt—”

“No, no, just an expression.”

“Ah.”

There was silence, aside from the rain. The guard sure was taking long, wasn’t he? Had he called the local authorities to apprehend Pebble? Because if so, that’d be quite a problem. For them.

“So, Saintess… are you saying that you’ll pay for damages?”

“Saint. And yes, eventually.”

“Huh. You must be richer than I thought.”

“I’m always paying for damages, so no.”

“...is that a joke?”

Pebble couldn’t hold back the sigh in time. “I wish.”

More silence.

“So your friend got possessed by the Demon King, who was a spirit living inside the metal hat, who used to be like… a council leader that nobody voted for?”

“A king. Yeah.”

“So like the average politician.”

“I think.”

“And now he’s trying to do that again, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really need a group of people for that? Why not just take the hat off your god friend?”

Pebble opened her mouth.

Pebble closed her mouth.

Pebble toyed with the button of her blouse.

“...seriously…”

“Because! Because. The Demon King knows that’s its weakness. It protects the host’s head, and. And. And my friend is a god… the god of apples… so obviously the Demon King would want that kind of host instead of a weaker vessel.”

More silence.

As Alpherson emerged from the restaurant, the thief began to laugh. Pebble couldn’t blame him, but this annoyed her anyway. “Good evening,” Alpherson greeted. “Is the madman behind you a friend or a foe?”

“Fff… fr…” But the thief had lost it.

“Both,” Pebble replied.

“Understood. While a curious choice to begin our journey at night under the rain, I know better than to question a Saint’s decisions. Will our unnamed friend not benefit from an umbrella?”

The thief raised a hand as if that explained anything.

“He can walk in the rain,” Pebble said. The sooner they got to the first stone, the better. They were supposed to check in on Frell and the guards on their way out of town. Since it’d take three days to reach the cave, that would help Frell gauge when to show up using the teleporting stone.

Pebble would probably get shooed, so she sent Alpherson to check, to her chagrin; it meant spending more time alone with the thief.

As soon as Alpherson vanished, the thief said, “He also looks rich.”

“Maybe.”

“Since you two can afford it, why not hire mercenaries instead?”

“Like I said, I’m not…”

“Why are you friends with a god?”

“Because…”

“Why not ask your Saint friends for help?”

“They’re busy…”

“But the Demon King is supposed to be dangerous, isn’t he? I thought Saints protected the weak. Why are the weak fighting their wars?”

Pebble felt her eye twitch. “If you’ll be like this the entire trip, I’ll fire you.”

“Ah, so I’m supposed to stay quiet and not question anything. Got it, got it. Very Saint-like.”

She really should’ve run a background check…

Alpherson returned along with an umbrella. “All is good,” he informed. “Let us go.”

“Good,” Pebble mumbled. “Did you tell the god of apples where we’d go?”

“Indeed.”

“Thanks.” Upon taking the umbrella, she tossed it at the thief despite him wearing a waterproof cape. “Let’s get this over with.”