Miriam Blackmercy

"Love and War, the timeless truth where all is at stake.

Why the daughters of the land never sleep, and the sons never wake."

-My Sweet Riverene, Act III

©

The children of the slums encircled the masked alchemist as he passes to pick firewood from the Apothecary's lawn. They've been tailing him like a litter of cats on snow for he had always been a big brother to them. Though they haven't seen the alchemist's face, his name is already engraved within their little hearts. Even his figure alone is enough for them to pick him from a crowd. They've been barraging him with questions rooted out from concern in each rotation he does:

"Are you really going to Graygreen Castle?"

"How long will you be gone?"

Then some few intrusive ones:

"Will Ian come too? He looked sad walking to the coasts... "

"What about that dark bull-man inside? Is he going there too?"

"Yes, yes and yes quit the yapping now you runts. Don't worry, I'll come back the next dawn with all the food you can eat." He promised them.

"We're not worried about that Sion, it's your first time to leave Dirge." Sijno embraced his knees to immobilise him. Sion is a reasonably tall individual, he just looked short besides the Sailor always towering over his stature.

"Sion, I'm worried about Ian too..." Chacha floated to his shoulder, embracing his hooded head like a distressed mother. She had always been the most mature among the bunch.

"I'll be fine, and he'll be fine too, just tell the others to let him be for a while and if he doesn't return to the Inn to let you all sleep in the basement, open the Apothecary instead. I'll leave my room's window open so you can float through." Sion whispered. Placing a finger on his lips, making a hushing sound. "It will be our little secret."

"Okay." The girl mimicked his gesture, kissing the small space of skin exposed on Sion's masked face.

"Now run along and don't pester the Sailor." He said before walking on the cobblestones back to the apothecary. Laguna was waiting for him on the deck of the house front, his skin as dark as the shadows from the shed that hides him.

"Children are rather fond of you, aren't they? I somehow understand why though... which is great, very great." He remarks, grabbing the pile of firewood from Sion's arms.

"Well, Miriam and I are all they have in this gods-forsaken city. If it weren't for us, all of those children would have been taken by frostbite."

"This world could use more people like you... The only problem is, there's not a single soul close to what you are like." The diplomat tucked the red stray strands back into Sion's hood.

"Huh? What's with this afternoon? people suddenly spouting nonsense here and there. " The boy laughed as he steps inside the house.

"I'm a diplomat Sion, I've seen more of the world than an average man. And I swear, you're the rarest I've ever seen."

"Aye, stop the flattering statements. I'm just an alchemist."

"Whatever you say..."

When they head back inside. Miriam threw a green hooded robe to her son. The fabric felt like the inside of a flower, as smooth as Miriam's hands when Sion was a child, Sion had never seen this garment before and it looked as expensive as the house itself.

"I'm still against the notion of you leaving for Graygreen if not for this treacherous bitch." She points over the Ocmenian Queen.

"And this is for?" asked the confused boy.

"Wear that to the province unless you want to be ravaged by nobles..." The small woman ordered.

"Ah, Miriam! Don't tell me you're going to hide your son's beauty? Shame on you really... " Hildred took the robes off of Sion's hands. "Don't worry dear, I will guard you myself." She removed the coverings that hides Sion's majestic face. "Each time I see your face I can't help but feel young!" She cheers up.

"Bamba Prika, always with the nonsense. Fine then, Now you have the Queen of Ocmenia herself as your own Guard Sion, My son must be a God to have this privilege. " Miriam rolled her eyes.

"With that face? Why not?" Hildred pulled the boy in a tight embrace.

"Oy poktola, ja Illo-pana sarehab, asamajk uwi. Uwi na genevan ja korak in od Alzina Fida." Hildred spoke in Ocmenian tongue.

(This bitch, You will come to Graygreen with us too. We will help you alleviate the pain of your heart.)

Miriam's stature stiffened yet her knees are visibly faltering from the words she had heard. She doesn't know what more wrenches her heart than the nickname of her lover.

You're

"I concede to your agenda you wench, but Sion has to stay covered at all times." Miriam embraced her own shoulders that frames a face drained of colours and tendered from tears.

"You're really going to come with us mum?"

"Huh, are you plain stupid or what?" the Master Alchemist scratches her head.

"Miriam! Leave your poor son be."

"Says the one smothering him in her embrace!? Just leave me alone the lots of you! You already got what you want to hear from me." Miriam stormed off upstairs, dust falling from the ceiling with her every stomping, all glassware clinking from the quake when she slammed her door shut.

"There goes the Nightshade Heroine." Laguna let off a whistle.

"Don't mind her venomous tongue, she curses a person as much as she loves them. She'd always been a feisty oddball even back in the days." Hildred pats the alchemist's back. Of course Sion knows of that fact. Same reason as to why him and Ian are at the very bottom of her pit of curses.

Dusk is glazing the Dirgean skies already and Miriam hasn't moved out of her room. Queen Hildred followed hours ago but they only spoke with whispers that's why the entire apothecary is in dead air. Sion just watches over Laguna while the horned man naps on a sturdy wooden bench too small for his body, his arms and legs touching the floor as he lies on his back, and his exhaustion, evident through his facial muscles. Sion watches and realized that this is the beast he's about to wake up later. He still can't comprehend his size when they first met, the rising of his ribs alone could rekindle the fireplace, until his eyes travelled south on his tight reptilian trousers- all the rumours about the Ocmenian genitalia being gut-wrenchingly massive were true, given the fact that it was the most believable thing about the race when he first heard of them.

Who would believe in the existence of a race that lives on volcanoes and thrives inside dunes anyways? Skin as dark as dusk and horned like beasts upon birth with their bodies tattooed on a yearly basis. Sion can't visualize the Ocmenians upon hearing of them first. He thought they were of brutal upbringing and savages in nature but the diplomat in front of him is not all that.

He finds it liminal, Laguna might have treated him gently and kind in spirit, but now that he is asleep, he finds his humongous physique quite frightening. His body protrudes with road-like veins that he can trace with his eyes, too visible even through the dim room.

He felt the same dismay whenever Ian sleeps beside him. His arms were so thick that the pillow sometimes seems redundant. His lap had always been his chair when they were young.

Then it dawns on him, the reason the sailor pushed him down the boat earlier that day, he can't possibly be sick or out of his mind. The taste of the saliva that trickled down his face, the scent of the foam that escaped the Sailor's mouth. The ingredients he had sensed, could concoct something... He ruminates deeper. A field of marsh horses, the taste of fermented sauerkraut lotus, the faint smell of burnt bristlewood, the greenish reflection of light from the foamed mouth- the venom of Flying Spiders. He finally originates the answer. Stallion's Stupor, an expensive concoction that the Dirgean constabulary regularly orders from the apothecary in crates. Famous for interrogating criminals and spies.

Sion retreats deeper into the layers of his clothes upon a realization. The concoction is designed to release the purest urge of the consumer, the most fundamental truth of their existence. He just didn't expect that Ian exists just to touch him. It twisted his chest thinking of this tragedy, he thought of the Silver Lady's kindness.

One thing he knows is that the next time they meet. He had to confront the Sailor's feelings or at last, end everything.

"Wake up, we're about to depart." Laguna tapped on the boy's shoulder, the windows were already trespassed by moonlight.

"We're off to Graygreen."

The Frostguards of Dirgeclam Palace stood attentively when the Ocmenian envoys returned. Their weapon hold tightened as the Nightshade Heroine appeared to walk behind. The last time her presence graced the palace was when she was freshly sentenced to her own version of confinement, which was to never step foot outside the Sovenian country or she will be chased back like the criminal hound she is. And she never violated that sentence in her 24 cycles of captivity.

"The tigers are ready to take your carriage to Graygreen. Please enjoy the refreshments provided inside by the grace of my Father." Drina Bluesaile welcomes them.

"Much appreciated, is it alright to bring along an old friend of our country to the said province?" Laguna gestured over Miriam Blackmercy, making the scenario that Drina feared the most materialise.

"May I confirm if her son is coming along as well?" She asked.

"Ah yes, I'm hoping he could."

"Of course..." The Silver Lady looked back to her carriage. "Yes he is most welcome."

"Excellent."

"But I have to warn that the- uhm, Nightshade Heroine... have a damaged reputation in the Graygreen Province. It would be in our best interest if she is kept close in your company." Drina tried to disclose as plain as possible.

"You have my word, Lady." The diplomat guaranteed.

"Hold yer horsieysh!" A slurred shout echoed from the highest crane of the ship palace. From there, the Kazer of Dirge stands wobbly with a bottle of mead gripped on his hand and the moon on his back- entirely covered by his tremendous figure. He jumped from the crane, the ice and cobblestones smashed into shards upon the landing of his feet.

"Eir why'r ye must not include the Kazer im'self in accompanying our Mud-skinned... *hiccup* friends?" He props over the slender body of his daughter with alcohol running down his beard. Sion could smell the strongest stench of alcohol he had ever come across polluting through his mask.

"Father, meet Laguna Gazhafina. He is the envoy from Ocmenia-"

"Pleased to meet ye! I'm Halfid Bluesaile, Kazer of Dirge!" The drunk Kazer held out his hand to the diplomat, He is one head shorter than the Ocmenian.

"Pleasure is mine." Laguna expects to shake the man's hand, but his eyes widened when his crotch was grabbed by the drunk man instead.

"Aye! The rumours were true indeed! hahaha that was a handful!" The Kazer retrieved his hand, taking another swig from his bottle.

"Gah! One of ye milk-drinkers grab me another bottle o' mead before I chop yer heads off!" He shouted to the Frostguards. "Roll the tide, Lagoon Gassymama. Graygreen is always a party!"

"I see you've never changed your dick-grabbing ways, Halfid." A voice spoke from the back of the envoys. All the frostguards had their eyes on her all this time.

"Mi-Miriam?" The Kazer stiffened, his alcohol-wet throat dried abruptly like he had swallowed whole glaciers in matters of seconds.

"The one and only, you son of a bitch." Her eyes explored the state of neglect that the Kazer displays. A maroon stained collar, a few missing buttons on his shirt, torn pants and holed shoes. It is said that a Kazer perfectly reflects the state of his province.

"State your business in my palace, witch." The Kazer tried to compose himself, but Miriam just laughed from his frail attempt.

"Are you surely educated Halfid? Still can't differentiate the schools of magic to classify me correctly?" She steps closer to the larger man, taking a sniff off his collar.

"Take a bath first you pig-headed oaf, I could smell my Grandmother's crotch from your beard." She whispered to the unmoving Kazer before making her way toward one of the tiger carriages.

"Oh goodness gracious, she entered the wrong carriage..." Drina pressed her face with her palms to keep it together as if things couldn't get any worse. She can already hear the sermons she'll receive from Geraldine later for letting this chaos ensue.

"Some things never change..." The Kazer chuckled, putting a cigar between his teeth only for it to tremble.

Miriam sighed when she closed the doors of the Carriage, warm winds escaping from the candle-lit room, her short hands hurriedly reached for the wine at the centre table. She chugs the luxurious bottle down to calm her nerves, she's no different from Halfid- a complete mess. It has been 24 cycles since she had set foot in Graygreen Castle, 24 cycles of exile.