A Gamer's Guide 473 (Patreon)

And now he’s crying. Great. 

Normally, I’d be happy that he’s showing any kind of emotion at all, but I’ve had a bit of a long morning, and Simel throwing a fit really is the crown on top of it all. I don’t even know what he’s upset about this time. If I try to peek inside his mind all I get is mangled static and dead-fish eyes, which is unfortunately not very helpful. Bummer!

Luckily, after over two months of living with this guy, I happen to know how to handle him when he gets like this. See, much like a toddler throwing a tantrum, rather than engaging with them like the civilized adult they aren’t, all you really have to do is…

I lean in, snake my hands under his form, and lift him out of bed. And, just like that, he’s gone quiet! Exactly like a little baby. And it isn’t even all that difficult, since he barely weighs anything. I feel like he probably weighed a bit more when he came here, but I’m sure he’ll eat better once he stops thinking about killing himself so much. 

“Am I going to have to carry you all the way there, or will you use your big-boy legs and walk like a decent member of society?”

He shivers in my arms, eyes lolling about, but, eventually, he’s able to grit his teeth and force his neck to contort in a nod. Yay!

“Glad to hear it!” I say, putting him down. He wobbles a bit, but, in the end, he stays on his feet long enough for me to help him out of his pajamas and into his normal outfit. Sure, the projection makes people think he’s wearing clothes, so he could technically walk around in his birthday suit and nobody would know. As you might imagine, I know this from experience. But then Gecko saw me strutting around and didn’t like the argument that my skin was technically a silk bodysuit and made me put on some clothes. Heh, good times…

I look down at Simel. He’s staring blankly ahead. Yeah…

I take his hand, mostly for his sake, but also because, well… Holding hands is nice! I’ve come to really enjoy it. No need to worry about claws hurting anyone or similar ridiculous things. Walking together, warm hand in warm hand… It’s so human. And before I know it, we’ve reached the designated meeting room. A lot of the castle’s bedrooms were remade into meeting rooms, and this is one of those. I like them. They’re small, comfortable, and often only really have room for a maximum of four or six people to meet at once. Any more than that and the rooms end up cramped and yucky. 

Opening the door, I head inside the room. No one here yet. Neat! 

I put Simel on the sofa, and then, using my awesome divine god-powers, I start conjuring copies of the many flowers I’ve grown in the garden. Whiptails, husband-killers, ballgowns, wig-bush flowers, dragonwings, deertree flowers… There are so many of them that I’ve nursed into quivering bloom, and now, with only a wave of my hand, I can recreate them, placing them in pretty bouquets all over the room. That’s another neat thing about the room being so small—I’m able to put flowers everywhere, instead of just in a few select spots. 

Of course, once the meeting concludes, the flowers disintegrate and return to my divinity. But that’s only to be expected. Still, right now, they’re so pretty, and I’m excited for when the emperor gets here. 

I take a step back. The whole room is covered in flowers, all of them in various shades of pink, yellow, blue, white, red, black, and purple. It’s actually a really dramatic combination of colors, and I don’t think it would work as well if I didn’t sort them the way I did. Yep, yep, good stuff. “What do you think, Simel? Do you think he’ll like it, or are his tastes more refined?”

Simel doesn’t answer me, because he’s busy replaying the moment when I killed the last emperor over and over again in his head. 

…Right, I’ll leave him to it!

I pace around the room as I wait, sniffing the flowers, rearranging individual parts, and not at all thinking about that time I killed the emperor. I had kind of forgotten about that. I mean, it was, what? Three years ago now? Not exactly the worst thing I’ve done in the past three years, heh. But the current emperor was there. I think so, at least. According to Simel’s mind, he was one of the little goblins, there at the end, when I… Yeah. 

But it isn’t important! The last time I met the emperor, he was cool with things. Sure, he did have me captured and branded and executed again, but he also shared a drink with me because he knew I wasn’t all that bad. Even though I killed his dad. Right in front of him. For no reason whatsoever.

Hmm. Maybe I should be worried about seeing him again…?

There’s a knock at the door, and since I have a violent dislike of ushers, it’s up to me to open. I stride across the room and open the door. The emperor smiles up at me, dressed in a fairly casual manner for being a, well, emperor, but I guess my own vest-and-shirt combo is hardly better. “Well, there you are. It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Certainly,” I say, stepping to the side, allowing him to enter, joined by a—

My eyes widen. “Hum?”

She nods to me. “Hello Kitty. I’m doing important work as the emperor’s assistant proxy.”

“I see that,” I say, smiling. “I’m glad to hear you’re alright. I heard what happened in Bramtown, but I knew you’d—” The mention of the city’s name brings a flash of memory into her eyes and I see in a flash the city burnt and the horrors of captivity and the dark, dreary aftermath. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. If I’d known, then…”

“But you didn’t, so it’s okay,” she says, a bit too sharply for it to not sting. “You were busy becoming whatever it is you are now. The emperor has been very nice to me.”

“That’s good,” I say. “A kind emperor is a very valuable thing indeed.”

“Please,” the emperor in question says, lowering his head slightly, “I am but a mortal. Crown or not, refer to me by the name I hold as goblin: Hark.”

I nod. “In that case, I’ll ask that you call me Kitty. I get antsy with other titles.”

“Then, I shall do so, Kitty. Now, Hum, would you please present our gifts to the God of Hope?”

“Of course,” Hum says, and in a single movement, she removes a pair of bottles from her inventory, both filled with a deeply auburn liquid. 

“Is that…?”

Hark smiles at me. “Of course. How could I forget?”

I wipe the drool from my chin. “You certainly know me well, Hark.”

Only a few minutes later—the majority of which Hark and Hum spent enjoying my flower arrangements—we’ve all taken our seats on the two sofas in the room, me and Simel on one side and Hark on the other, Hum standing loyally at his back, as is to be expected. Normally, Simel sitting on the couch next to me would be completely unacceptable since he’s currently in the guise of a servant. However, thanks to the effects of the projection, he’s practically invisible. If I peek into Hark’s mind for a moment, I can’t even see Simel anymore. It’s like he isn’t even there. A ghost, but alive. 

“Beautiful city you have here,” Hark says, waving for Hum to pour us a drink each. She does so with a nod and a completely blank face. “We’ve had dreadful weather in the capital for months, but here, it’s as though you’ve had nothing but sunshine for years.”

“One of the perks of godhood,” I mutter, accepting a little glass of the orange liquor from Hum. It’s a shame she’s not allowed to drink with us by social convention. That should be illegal. “Here, the weather is mine to control.”

“I’m dying of envy,” he says, and holds up his glass. Smiling, I hold mine up, and we clink them together. 

“To summer,” I say. 

“To Simel,” he replies. 

I hesitate. At my side, Simel isn’t even moving. I’m not sure he heard him. “Yes,” I say. “To Simel.” The emperor nods grateful and takes a sip, and after a single beat, I follow suit, bringing the glass to my lips. Mm. It’s delicious. It’s as good as it was when he threw it in my face while I was visiting his dungeon. In a way, I’m still surprised he’d do that for me. An emperor visiting a mere criminal… It’s a strange thing to do, especially without any guards whatsoever. But he did it. Not out of faith, but, rather… Hope. 

“Tomorrow would have been his twenty-fourth birthday,” Hark says, his eyes looking down into his glass. “Ten years as of his entrance into adulthood. Normally, such a day would be greatly celebrated, especially among goblins of his rank.”

“Oh. I… I see.” Aw, shoot. I have no idea what to say, and Simel isn’t even moving. I can’t tell if he’s thinking anything or if his mind’s gone blank. It does that sometimes. I’m envious. If I did that, I wouldn’t have to think about how cold the glass is in my hands, or how I didn’t even know when Simel’s birthday is, and that it’s his birthday tomorrow and I don’t have anything planned at all. I’m a horrible friend. 

Hark looks across the table at me, glass held in both hands, face blank. Is he angry at me? Resigned? Maybe he hates me but can’t afford to show it? That wouldn’t be too strange. He wouldn’t be the first. 

“They say you killed him,” Hark says. “But I wanted to hear it from you. Rumors have a tendency to change in accordance with who tells them. Some say you turned him to rats, others that you simply struck him down with lightning. According to some, you wept for the ally you once had; and according to others, he died screaming, hopeless, cursing your name with his last breath.”