The Gamer Chapter 1696 – Tea with Death [Lorelei POV] (Patreon)

Lorelei’s stay in the Necropolis had been pleasant, all around.

She had been there for a week now. Her accommodations left nothing to be desired. The bed and other furniture were comfortable, clothes were provided when she asked for them, and she was free to move about as she chose. On more than one occasion, she ventured out of the castle she was staying in and into the city. The undead citizens of the Necropolis kept themselves busy via trade and craftsmanship. In the absence of starvation, they were busy beating the threat of boredom and they were quite apt at it.

Lorelei was a known guest of the Grim Reaper, easily identified by being the sole truly living person on the streets. Any offers to compensate people for their wares were met with denial. The undead were kind, the streets clean, and everybody got along. A harmonious place, where she frequented the library to read books. Fascinatingly, they had a few older documents of the Order. There was nothing new to them, the doctrinal changes of the Order of the Golden Rose were well-documented, but reading the thoughts of the people at the time was nonetheless enlightening.

If there was one aspect of her stay that Lorelei reluctantly admitted she did not enjoy much, it was the food. As someone who had joined more than one lengthy campaign, the seer was used to the nutritious but dull meals that soldiers in the field were given, sometimes for no other reason than to harden them up against earthly delights. Aclysia’s expert cooking had spoiled her a bit in this regard, but in Lorelei’s humble opinion that was not why she found the food below her standards.

The dead did not cook.

There were plenty of ingredients and some of the undead, vampires for the most part, had the necessary bits left to enjoy the occasional taste. For the undead, it seemed that intensity of the flavour was more important than a blending of them. There were plenty of raw ingredients around, but they did not combine them into any meal. Lorelei ate raw fruit most of the time, with dried meat thrown in here and there. If she wanted anything prepared, she had to do so herself.

That was, however, a minor complaint to have all around.

Besides the exploration of the Necropolis and the reading, Lorelei spent her time taking the offer of the Grim Reaper. At this very moment, she was on her way to the god’s house. This time, it wasn’t just for the pleasantry of tea.

The simplicity of the house could not be understated. It reminded Lorelei of the standard dwelling of the mentor figure in many of the simplistic novels that Momo liked to drone on about. A loose fence surrounded the premise and the herbal patches that were confined by charmingly uneven blocks of grey stone. The house itself was old, brown wood. Age had crooked it slightly and there were slight gaps in the walls that had been patched with additional wood. A singular window next to the door would let a regular person see strings used to dry herbs in the sunlight.

The Grim Reaper sat on the veranda, rocking back and forth in a chair. In his lap, he had a skeletal cat and a book. His fingers skilfully picked leaves out of the bleached spine of his pet as he read. It wasn’t until Lorelei stood right before him that he closed the book.

“Moby-Dick.” The Grim Reaper raised the old tome for her to catch the gilded letters on the cover.

“An interesting choice of literature,” Lorelei commented.

“I read what is appropriate for the times.” A couple of pokes were necessary for the cat to leap out of its owner’s lap. As it moved, a blueish-green outline of what it once appeared as became visible. It even dared to meow at the god, who shooed it away. “A tale of vengeance and obsession. That ought not to be my fate. Come inside.”

Lorelei did as allowed and stepped into the humble abode. It was less than seven steps across and contained barely more than a fireplace, a narrow bed, a medieval kitchen, and a table with three chairs. “May I ask why you stay in this conflict, if not for vengeance or obsession?”

“Because it is the correct thing to do.” The book was placed on the table with a little thud. As was their little ritual, Lorelei proceeded to sit down and he ignited the fireplace with a lighter. Despite the medieval feeling of the dwellings, some of the amenities were modern. Lorelei had to confess to a degree of oddity that she still felt when watching this supreme entity of the Abyss move about in such normal ways. “John Newman is not a good man.”

The insult to her beloved made Lorelei’s posture a little stiffer. “What makes you say that?”

“The obvious truth of the matter.” An old-timey kettle, blackened from use, was filled up and hung over the fire. Rubbing a shadow-veiled chin, the hooded god added a few herbs to the still cold water, before joining her at the table. “He knows this. He states this in public speeches. You find disagreement with it because I say it.”

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

“I am without sin.” The Grim Reaper folded his hands over his chest. “Gaze within my soul. You know that it is true.”

Lorelei fell silent. Radiating from the god before her was not the haughty certainty of an arrogant boss nor the forceful conviction of a self-doubting leader. It was the pure, cutting indifference of a man that had nothing to fear and nothing to prove, thoughts laid bare, a neutrality of opinion so absolute lesser seers would dissolve into it.

“When a thief steals from you, it is irresponsible to let them get away with it,” the Grim Reaper put his thoughts into words. “They ought to be punished. Find them and deliver that punishment. Make it cruel for those that stole for the enjoyment of it. Make it a chance to prove the value of their labour for those that were desperate. Treat the individual. Stabilize the world.” He closed the book. His arm extended, new skeletal joints and forearms spawning from underneath his sleeves, until it had become long enough to place the book on the shelf. “That was my original purpose here. Your beloved showed me disrespect. Now he too requires a punishment, as I have already revealed to you.”

“He may not be a good man, but he is attempting to make the world a better place,” Lorelei responded.

“And for that, he can be applauded. For his meddling, he can not. He has the youthful vigour that demands he gets involved in all he can, not the wizened spirit that reminds him that there are matters not his to decide.”

Behind the Grim Reaper, the pot began to whistle. The first undead rose from his chair yet again, picked up the boiling hot kettle, and carried it into the kitchen. Utensils clacked and were moved about, herbs were taken from their strings, and Lorelei watched. “You do not give my beloved enough credit.”

“Perhaps.” Water poured through a layer of plants, through the filter underneath, and into the cup. “I can sense your predicament, however. You are here to deliver me news that will confirm my suspicions.”

Lorelei hesitated for a moment, then confessed the matter of the day, “The blessed Gamer has located the child of Huitzilopochtli. The Lady’s word is that the demigoddess was the candidate you searched for. She was given an immortal body of metal.”

“I see.” The Grim Reaper added a few more herbs.

“His intentions were noble,” Lorelei was swift to add. “He required a means to cure the pestilence and contracting her was the swiftest way to do so. She was in a much degenerated state.”

“At death’s door.” Picking up the cup, the Grim Reaper placed it in front of her. “Drink.”

Lorelei reached for the cup and took in the aroma. “May I… criticize?” she suggested carefully.

The Grim Reaper nodded.

“It is too early in the day for jasmine, particularly this strong.”

“Ah.” The first bit of emotion, frustration at that, snuck into the god’s voice. “The rookie mistake once again. I forget it every few hundred years.” He plucked the cup out of her hands and poured the contents of the cup into the simple stone sink. Immediately, he prepared another tea.

Lorelei reheated the topic of conversation. “What do you think my John should have done?”

“Contact me through you, tell me he has found what I am looking for and invite me to collect my debt in return for my aid in curing the diseased.”

“That could have cost too much time.”

“Do you know?” The question was underlined by the slow pouring of water. “Do you know that I have no means in my employ to cross this peninsula within minutes? Does it even matter? It did not even cross John’s mind that he could have relied on another one’s power. That Rat has shaped him well.”

“What do you mean?” Lorelei asked.

A fresh cup of tea was placed in front of her. She did not touch it, not until the Grim Reaper gave it a demanding little nudge. Obligingly, she took in the rich aroma of this tea as well. Green tea, spiced up with trace amounts of lemons, cinnamon, and something hot she could not place. She sipped on it. “Does it taste good?” The god without taste buds leaned forwards ever so slightly.

“It is indeed tasty, but my enjoyment is greatly diminished by my current lack of answer,” Lorelei answered and focused on whatever tiny traces of eyes she should find under the darkness of the hood. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing you would not know already.” The Grim Reaper sat down in his chair. “The Horned Rat worked the ready clay of the Gamer into the mould most fitting for his new era. Nothing is more disdainful to the Horned Rat than people like you and I.”

“What kind of people would that be?” Lorelei asked, still confused.

“People that are content.” The Grim Reaper folded his hands over his chest again. “There is no scheming to be had with us. Given the choice, we would remain motionless in our corners of the world. We will not be tempted by greater riches or further power and that makes us his worst enemies.”

“Are you not here for further power?”

“I was offered a rider in exchange for lessons. I gave the lessons and received no rider. I am righting a wrong. That is all there is to it.” The Grim Reaper tilted his head. “May I ask why the Gamer wanted you to tell me he had wronged me?”

“He did not,” Lorelei answered. “He told me about it and I made the decision to carry this knowledge forward.”

“He trusts you greatly.”

“John… finds it difficult to trust, but yes, he trusts us… and I trust you.”

The Grim Reaper was as still as the dead should be. Only the edges of his tattered robe still moved, animation more akin to the drifting shadows of clouds than actual motion. No emotions stirred under the surface either. The god of the fear of death just was. “Why?”

“The Lady crossed our paths.”

“Gaia… what do you make of your goddess’ uninvolved meddling in this world?”

“I believe that some plans are too grand for even the most brilliant mind, mortal or otherwise. Faith is all I can offer and to me it is plenty.” Lorelei sipped from the cup. “How can I not trust the plan of the supreme deity, when her designs let me sit across from the embodiment of death, drinking his delicious tea?”

The joke caused a little ripple in the unmoving graveyard grey of the god’s guiltless ego. “In that, we are united.” The lack of motion ended with the Grim Reaper curling a finger. Creaking, the door swung open. Lorelei first thought it was her cue to leave, but it was just the cat tapping into the house. Spectre and bones, it leapt onto the table. “You wish to know what I will do next.”

“If you would be willing to share,” Lorelei agreed calmly. “If I may speak plainly: your debt can no longer be recovered and it is my beloved that has wronged you. You have these affairs to settle and I would appreciate a bloodless solution where it can be reached.”

“I believe there is a rider to be found yet and that is what we are searching for.” The Grim Reaper pulled a map off the distant bookshelf and spread it on the table. It was a similar one to what had brought the harem into this corner of the world in the first place, but in much better condition.

Previously, Lorelei would have asked to send a picture of it to the others. With Nahua in their employ, they had all the intel they could ever need. ‘The Glory Road…’ Lorelei read the name of the southern temple.

A skeletal finger tapped on the large island east of southern Yucatan. “The Stinking Corpse, the origin of the Giant’s Puss. That is my next destination and, thus, yours.”

“You wish me to accompany you?”

“When I made my deal with Huitzilopochtli, he did not strike me as a dishonest being. I am rarely wrong. Either he is an exceptional liar or there are other forces in motion. Your sight will serve me to find either.”

“Once you have your answer?”

“I will know whether the deal I made was broken by malice or incompetence. Punishment will be adjusted accordingly. As for you and yours, I have yet to come to a conclusion. Aid could lighten your sentence.” The Grim Reaper kept tapping on the island. “Does your demigoddess know the exact location of the Stinking Corpse?”

“I shall request that intel,” Lorelei promised.

“Inform him that our forces will remain adversarial to each other. Whatever ultimate punishment I bring to him, he has earned my ire for the time we occupy the same space for.”

“I shall do so,” Lorelei assured and reached for her cup.

It would be a shame to leave it unfinished.