Playing God 10

Playing God 10

Charlie Foxtrot

As I was admiring one of the elaborate arches in the castle gardens, I heard several sets of footsteps behind me. Arianne and Tyene were easily identifiable. They smelled different, similar to each other yet distinct. They also wore more perfume, a sign of their pseudo-royal status. Personally, I would have appreciated it if they wore a bit less.

There were three more people behind them that I did not recognize. One was perfumed, like they were, so I assumed a friend or lady-in-waiting. The other two smelled of sweat from light exercise, one more than the other.

“The arches look rather strange, don’t they?” Arianne said in lieu of a greeting. She picked at one of the vines that climbed up the arch. “Father had them made in the Norvoshi style so mother wouldn’t feel too homesick.”

“I see. I wondered why the architecture differed here. It’s pretty, much more artistic than the rest of the castle.”

“You should see the Water Gardens. Then, you will know that Dornish art can be beautiful as well.”

“That does sound rather nice. I heard it’s the place to be for the highborn youth.” I turned to face them and invited them to introduce themselves. “And good morning to the rest of you. I fear I only know Tyene.”

Of Arianne’s four companions, one was her best friend and cousin. Two were young men, one in loose, airy clothes and the other in rather uncomfortable-looking mail armor. The last was a young noblewoman, though not one I recognized.

They introduced themselves. The man in casual wear had an easygoing smile and was named Garin. The one in chainmail was Ser Andrey Dalt. Both were childhood friends of Arianne. 

The latter really emphasized the “ser” in his name, obviously something he took great pride in. Perhaps he was a renowned swordsman around these parts, or had received his knighthood recently and the shine had yet to wear off.

He didn’t seem to like me much and shot me looks of distaste when Arianne wasn’t watching. Since he was with her, I could assume he was something like a bodyguard. A “sworn shield,” I was reasonably sure they called it. Being her knight, I assumed I’d offended him by not bowing and addressing her more respectfully.

The girl next to Tyene introduced herself as Sylva Santagar, another childhood friend of theirs. She looked to be of age with the princess and her face was dotted with many freckles. She had a roundish face, the kind that dimpled cutely when she smiled.

All five of them grew up in the Water Gardens together to forge deeper alliances. I heard the quiet part that they weren’t saying aloud: In a pinch, House Martell could claim noble sons and daughters as hostages to keep their vassals in line.

I wondered when the practice began. Knowing how calculating Doran could be, I would have assumed he’d been the one to start such a policy, but he was a product of his environment. It could be that this was a longstanding tradition in Dorne.

Tyene accused me with a teasing pout. “You were not at breakfast. I thought you wanted to take your meals with me?”

“I cooked my own breakfast. Apologies, but I wanted something that reminded me of home.”

“You cooked? How did you manage that, Master Charlie?” Sylva asked curiously. “The kitchens are always busy.”

“Master? Just Charlie is fine, thank you.” I lit a fireball at the tip of my finger. “I cooked with magic. I have a very particular way I like to start my days when I am not babysitting the princess and her cousin.”

“Babysitting?” Arianne scoffed. “We are hardly children.”

“Oh? Was it a different pair of girls who struggled to pitch a tent two nights ago?”

Their faces colored pink. Tyene kicked my shin, probably because it would have been unseemly for a princess to resort to violence. She returned her foot and stood stiffly, no doubt trying not to whimper in pain over her newly stubbed toe.

Really, she should have known better. It wasn’t my fault I was invincible.

Arianne sniffed imperiously. “Must have been someone else. We did nothing of the sort.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Have you any plans today, Charlie?”

“Hmm… The Shadow City sounds interesting. You also told me about Planky Town. And of course, there is the Water Gardens. I want to visit them all before I move on with my travels.”

“Well, going out to the Shadow City today might be a little difficult. Nymeria is off on her own and I would really recommend we take her along as a guide,” Tyene said.

I shrugged. “That’s fine. I’m in no rush.”

“In that case, how about spending the day with us? We were about to head to the training yard. Father and Ser Daemon spar about now so we can see father beat his former squire senseless if you’d like.”

“It’s good fun,” Garin said with an easy smile. “Ser Daemon is one of the finest swords in Dorne, but still pales before the Red Viper. A few whacks upside the head reminds him that humility is also a virtue.”

“Yes, he’s good,” Andrey admitted, making a face as if he’d sucked on a lemon. Then, with a confident smirk, “Come with us, Charlie. A man ought to know how to fight.”

I looked at myself. Certainly, I was a “bishounen.” I was tall enough, though not exactly looming. My arms were hidden in my kimono sleeves, but my shoulders were not very broad. I didn’t look particularly athletic, though I wasn’t visibly unfit.

I considered agreeing, but I just knew that he would challenge me to a “friendly spar” if I went. He had that gleam in his eye. He was probably hoping to teach me some manners for being rude to his princess. Even if Arianne didn’t care, he seemed the overly stiff sort.

He could stab away at me until he died of old age and I wouldn’t even notice. Still, showing off like that felt rather gauche. It wasn’t as if I didn’t understand him. Not only was I ill-mannered in his eyes, magic was a thing of suspicion to them. Naturally, as a creature who exuded magic from every pore of my being, I was something to be watched.

I chose to laugh off the unspoken challenge. “No, that’s quite alright. Tyene, can you point me to the library? I much prefer to fight stories and legends rather than men.”

The blonde nodded with a knowing smile. “Of course. Come with me. Cousin, I will join you shortly.”

“Lovely. Now, some of those fables you told me about on our way here…”

X

Tyene led me to the castle library and ditched me shortly thereafter. Though she held some love for the Seven-Pointed Star, she wasn’t especially studious otherwise.

The library was about a third of the size of the great hall, with shelves that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. There were six sets of heavy, wooden tables, filling up the center, each with four chairs. It wasn’t very large by modern standards, but books were expensive commodities in this time period. This library was as much a sign of generational wealth as the castle itself.

I smiled with anticipation as I began to browse the shelves. I didn’t naturally read nor speak Westerosi Common or the various dialects of bastardized Valyrian, but that wasn’t an issue. The cleric spell list included Comprehend Languages. Monks got the Tongue of Sun and Moon. I happened to be both. To make life easier on myself, I’d had a ring enchanted with the former.

The books I found were… of limited value. Most of these tomes were for practical use, covering subjects like medicine, metallurgy, navigation, and medieval combat manuals. There was also a section for history, dominated by the histories of Dornish houses, and a small collection of poems and songs. Most of the latter were of a religious bend.

Out of curiosity, I perused the books on medicine. Their contents made my tails curl in distaste. I was once again reminded that this was a world perpetually stuck in the medieval ages.

Bloodletting was a common practice. Head trauma was treated with bed rest. Lacerations were sewn shut with “catgut,” which I gathered was boiled cow intestine torn into strings. And of course, the best prescription for pain was “bed rest and milk of the poppy.”

That last one made me wonder. Poppy was the flower used to make opium, heroin, and morphine in the modern age. It was crazy addictive, got you high as a kite, and could potentially result in permanent mental degradation if taken consistently. That these so-called “learned men” had few treatment options between “Suck it up,” and “Have some opium,” was wild to me.

I also cracked open a book on sailing and navigation. It was interesting, but I wasn’t educated enough on the subject to confirm its accuracy. For that matter, what was accurate on Earth might not be accurate on Planetos. There was no reason to believe the two planets were of the same size, and they most certainly didn’t have the same star charts.

I saw foreign constellations like the “Southern Basilisk” or the “Tiger of Volantis.” I would have been delighted to read about the myths that followed these constellations, but they were nowhere to be found.

I was halfway through a collection of Westerosi poems when I heard footsteps around the corner. Turning, I saw a young girl, early teens, with dusky, caramel skin and big, doe-like eyes. In her hands were three, thick tomes, bound the same way so likely forming one series.

“Hello, Sarella, right?” I greeted.

I did remember Oberyn telling me that she was his most academically inclined daughter. The man loved to brag about all his daughters, but I gathered that the studious girl held a special place in his heart.

Like him, she was a curious soul. It was her dearest wish to learn more about the world. He said she’d been near inconsolable and pouted for weeks when she learned from Maesters Caleotte and Myles that only men were permitted in the Citadel.

“Yes, I’m the smart sister,” she said with a cheeky grin. She came over to look over my shoulder. Her nose scrunched up adorably. “Ew, poetry? Really? All his knowledge and you choose the Poems of Lady Nyssa?”

“You frown, but you knew enough to recognize it immediately.”

“Of course, the septa makes me copy them when I’ve been bad.”

“Huh. I guess some punishments are universal.”

“Did you ever have to write lines?”

I chuckled. That brought back memories of my first childhood, back when I thought such punishments from my parents were the height of tyranny. “Once upon a time, yes. I would have thought the septa would have you write lines from the Seven-Pointed Star. Why does she choose a collection of poetry?”

“She says that the holy book is not a punishment, but a privilege,” Sarella frowned. Then, with a sly grin, “Personally, I think it’s because Tyene liked writing from the Seven-Pointed Star.”

“And because you dislike these poems in particular?”

“Yes, that too. Do you really like these?”

“No. I was just browsing and you happened to find me when I was reading poems,” I told her honestly. “Tell me, Sarella, what is your favorite book here?”

“Hmm, that’s hard. It’s either these three,” she gestured to the tomes she’d been carrying, “or the adventures of Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake. These three cover the history of the Rhoynar people and Princess Nymeria’s ten thousand ships. I’m going through them one more time.”

“Might I ask why? It sounds like you’ve already read them.”

“Eh… Father read them to us as bedtime stories. I’ve never read them myself and I figured I should do that at least once.”

“How do you feel about them now that you’re reading them yourself?”

“Some parts are dull. There is a whole chapter on how Nymeria kept her livestock alive during her voyage across the sea. And another chapter on her lineage and the deeds of her cousins, all forty-three of them. But other parts are super interesting, like how Nymeria convinced her people that she was a worthy leader after Prince Garin’s death.”

“Who was that? He sounds important.”

“He was the Rhoynish prince who led them against Valyria. It took three hundred dragons to defeat the Rhoynish army of two hundred fifty thousand,” she said proudly.

I hummed in thought. If that was the strength of Old Valyria, I was now further convinced that the dragons of this world were… lesser… than the ones I was used to.

I didn’t say that, of course. Instead, I asked, “That name sounds familiar. Isn’t one of Arianne’s friends named Garin?”

“Yes, that’s because our Garin is an Orphan.”

“I see… So ‘Garin’ is a name reserved for orphans? Maybe with the hopes that such orphans will grow up to be as heroic as Prince Garin?”

“Not that kind of orphan, silly. ‘Orphan’ as in the ‘Orphans of the Greenblood,’” she said. “They’re descended from the Rhoynish people who didn’t marry with the Dornish. They are a semi-nomadic, river-faring people, like the Rhoynar used to be.”

“That sounds fascinating. They’re still around? And important? Arianne said Garin was like a brother to her because his mother was her nursemaid.”

“That’s right. House Martell remembers our friends, and our roots. Though the Orphans are not rich or powerful, we still treat them as the cousins they are. They’re often given privileged positions in our household.”

“You really are the family scholar, huh?”

“I am,” she said, chest puffed out proudly. Then, with more shyness, “Would you… Would you like to read with me? Nymeria used to, but she’s more interested in knives and spears now.”

“That sounds like a fine way to spend the day,” I agreed. I reached out with my tails and wrapped them around her back and hips, tugging her to my side. “Come, you can start wherever you left off and I’ll read over your shoulder.”

That’s what we did for several hours. We read about the tail end of Nymeria’s journey, and her negotiations with Lord Mors Martell. The book claimed that Nymeria’s “ten thousand ships” was a hugely inflated number, but Sarella insisted otherwise.

In any case, Nymeria’s marriage to Mors would kickstart what would come to be called Nymeria’s War. It was the war of unification that led to “Lord” Martell becoming “Prince” Martell.

“Do they have magic still?” I asked Sarella. “The Orphans. You said that the Rhoynish people had magic that came from the Mother Rhoyne.”

“That depends on who you believe. Some of them claim they do,” Sarella said. Her tone said she wanted to believe it, though had not seen any evidence for herself. “Maybe? There are many secrets among the Orphans. Father says even he does not know them all.”

“That’s a pity. I would like to investigate for myself soon. They sound like druids, or maybe clerics if this ‘Mother Rhoyne’ figure is a true goddess.”

“Druids? Clerics? What are they?”

“A person with a sword might be a sellsword, or a knight, or even a Dothraki raider. In the same way, people with magic can be called different things depending on how they use their magic, and where their magic comes from,” I lectured. “A druid is a magic user whose power comes from their intimate connection with nature. A cleric is someone who obtains power through the worship of a godlike figure. Depending on how you classify Mother Rhoyne, I think the Rhoynish mages, if they exist, could potentially qualify as either.”

“And… What are you? You are a kitsune, and so naturally magical, yes?”

“Yes, but I am… complicated. On one hand, my magic is innate, and so perhaps I am a sorcerer. And yet, the onmyoji discipline is closest to that of a wizard, a scholar of the mystic arts. At the same time, I am a kannushi, a qualified master of a shrine. That might make me a cleric, though I do not worship any god. If anything, I am the Inari Okami, which might mean that I am both the god and cleric…”

“That… Yes, that does sound complicated,” she said with a wry smile. “Go back to the ‘scholar of the mystic arts’ bit. Does that mean anyone can learn magic?”

“To a point.”

“Then–”

I hushed her, placing a dainty finger on her lips. “No, I will not teach you magic.”

“Tch. Stingy,” she pouted.

We read more about Nymeria’s War until dinner. I found the young girl to be good company. She wasn’t flirty like Tyene, but instead had an authentic curiosity and thirst for knowledge that I found endearing.

I said I would not teach her magic, but truthfully, if there was one Sand Snake who had the right mentality to become a proper witch, she was it. Even as untalented as she was, learning a handful of cantrips, or even up to the second tier, should be within her abilities.

Perhaps one day…

X

The next day, I had a solitary breakfast within the Explorer’s Refuge. Rice, grilled salmon, sauteed mushrooms, and a personal addiction, fried tofu curds.

That last one was a direct consequence of tying myself so deeply with the kitsune race. Back when I was human, I didn’t like tofu much, considering it bland and largely tasteless. Now, I felt like I could write poetry about its sublime texture and the subtle, nutty aroma of freshly pressed tofu.

I shook my head to rid myself of the distraction. I could spend the day preparing different tofu dishes, but I had plans. Nymeria told me over dinner last night that she would be available to take me into the Shadow City.

I stepped out of the Refuge, only to find my guide staring at the torii gate with a hand on the dagger at her waist. “What the hell is that?”

“Good morning to you too, Nymeria,” I said with a friendly smile. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be in a strange man’s room?”

“You are indeed strange, stranger still that you come and go without a word to your hosts,” she shot back. “Where did you go? And what was that gate?”

“That gate is called a torii, a traditional gate often placed before shrines and temples in my homeland. As for where it leads, why, it leads home, of course.”

“Home? To your ‘Land of the Rising Sun?’”

“Not quite. Though I am from such a place, the torii gate leads to the Explorer’s Refuge, a home I built for myself in a separate dimension.”

“What is a dimension?”

I realized then that there was no way for me to explain extraplanar travel to Nymeria. “Imagine if you could fit this castle into a purse. That is the Explorer’s Refuge. It goes where I go. When I tire of a place, I return there to experience the creature comforts of my homeland.”

“Oh? Interesting. Perhaps my sisters and I should allow you to host us for an evening.”

I shook my head. “Denied. The Explorer’s Refuge is precisely that, a refuge. I have never permitted another soul inside, and it is unlikely that I ever will. If I do, it will be because I count them among my most cherished friends.”

“Stingy,” she said with an exaggerated pout, unknowingly echoing her sister. I was suddenly greatly tempted to give her a modern appliance, just to see her call it sorcery. Maybe a rice cooker, the holy grail of the Japanese kitchen. “Very well, come along. You did wish to see the Shadow City today, didn’t you?”

“I did. Shall we go now?”

“We shall. Come on, then.”

Nymeria took us to the courtyard.

There, I found four others waiting. Arianne and Tyene were talking quietly amongst themselves. They were expected, but I was surprised to see both Garin and Ser Andrey. I could have sworn there was a fifth if Arianne wanted to bring her whole crew, Sylvia or Sylva or somesuch, but maybe her childhood friend didn’t like the city much.

Arianne noticed us coming and took a heavy cloak from Garin’s hand. She tossed it my way with an annoyed scowl. “About time. Hasn’t anyone taught you to not keep a princess waiting?”

I caught the cloak and swept it before me in a flourishing bow. “My apologies, princess. How might I make up for this grave sin?”

“You can start by putting that on,” Garin said. “You stand out quite a bit, my friend.”

“I do not mind a little staring.”

“Ah, but you wished to see the Shadow City at its most natural, yes? You will not have that if you look like a foreign prince and flaunt your many tails.”

“You do have a point…” I sniffed the cloak and held it at arm’s reach. “But it smells. Where did you find this?”

“The stables,” Garin said with a chipper grin, “the same place I found mine. And it only smells a little of horses.”

“I dare say my nose is a lot better than yours. My tails will smell of horses.”

“Quit being precious, Charlie,” Tyene chided.

“Fine,” I grumbled, mostly for the sake of it. I slung it over myself and pulled the hood over my ears. Then, with a tap, I muttered, “Prestidigitation.”

“What?”

“Prestidigitation. It’s a spell, maybe my favorite.”

“And what does it do?”

I held my sleeve out to her. “Prestidigitation is a cantrip, a spell that costs so little magical power that it’s not even afforded a proper tier. It’s the most foundational household charm. I use it to wash dishes, clean laundry, keep my hair and fur soft, that sort of thing.”

Tyene grabbed my sleeve and gave it a whiff. That got everyone else doing it “Huh… I really don’t smell horse anymore. Although, you might smell too clean now.”

“Ahem,” Arianne said. She raised her hand in a royal decree. “For the crime of making me wait, I demand that you cast the spell on me as well. You said it could make my hair soft.”

“Your hair is plenty soft, princess,” Andrey said patiently. He seemed impressed with the spell, albeit still rather wary.

“I want to know what a spell feels like when it is cast upon me.”

I ended up charming each of their cloaks before Arianne let us set off. I allowed it. Withholding a small cantrip like this from them would have made me feel rather miserly.

Taking cues from Garin, I opted to disguise myself. He was right, after all. Showing up as the “Master Fox” that the servants were talking about would obviously taint any attempt at cultural immersion.

A simple kitsune illusion later, we were off.

Author’s Note

I did say I'd get this out quickly.

According to the wiki, Andrey once asked Doran for her hand, which Doran obviously rejected. He and Daemon were/are her lovers at one point. Charlie is mistaking his possessiveness as the actions of an overly dutiful knight.

Sylva calls Charlie “master.” This is not a kink, you horny gremlins. It’s a word sometimes used to address peasants who possess great skill in a trade, as in “master smith.” Not being a noble, and not knowing what else to call him, that’s just what Sylva defaulted to.

Comprehend Languages is a level 1 spell for D&D 3.5e that every caster class gets. I’m not sure why Maruyama made a point of Ainz not being able to read in the anime. For convenience, I’m going to gloss over this in the future.

Funny enough, clerics do not get Prestidigitation in their standard list of cantrips. I’m including it because it’s such a basic spell. I can’t imagine anyone prepping for an “extended campaign” like Charlie to not have found a workaround at some point in ten years of YGGDRASIL.

Animal… Folklore(?): In Japanese folklore, horseshoe crabs were thought to be the reborn souls of samurai who died honorably in battle because their bodies resembled samurai helmets. These reborn souls would patrol the ocean floor endlessly. Which doesn't really sound like a reward in my opinion, but what do I know?