Path of the Deathless

335 Vestments

—Adam Arrow and Roland Arrow335

Vestments

“Appetius, can you explain to me what the hells I'm looking at?”

“It's Appetius to you, Deathless Knave.”

“Yeah, sure. Ser Appetius the Fragrant Dungeater. Whatever. What am I looking at?”

Shiv could feel the waves of baleful loathing ripple out from the Anointed Knight’s body. The Fae’s emotional core was on the verge of overload from how much hate he felt toward Shiv. Despite this, Shiv didn't see him as much of a threat. He'd taken Sir Appetius's narrative skill; on top of that, the power dynamic between them had shifted entirely since the moment they reached the Summer Court. Now, Shiv was Princess Plum Blossom's favorite companion, and the other Bread-Knights—long miserable under Ser Appetius' tyrannical leadership—had taken this opportunity to turn on him, partaking in his humiliation.

Sage of the Enkindled Heart:

His Psychology Skill’s suggestion went unnoticed by Shiv. His eyes were locked on a single thing in the chamber. It resembled a suit of armor, not so unlike that of the Bread-Knights. However, where it differed was that it wasn't simply made of yeast, wheat, and dairy. The armor prepared for Shiv was composed of foods that made for… a balanced and wholesome diet. The cape was made from strips of flowing bacon, crispy and pointed at the edges, but underneath was a lettuce overlay, sporting a hidden layer of health atop a glistening sheet of cholesterol. The gauntlets and greaves were no less eccentric, with the arms being made from fish heads and meatballs while the legs were made of crab shells and sprouted patches of broccoli from its articulations.

A girdle of barbecue ribs wrapped around the wearer’s mid-section, and the rest of the chest piece was sculpted from melons and other fruits with rivers of ice cream and enamel running between their well-carved lengths. Bits of cabbage formed the plumage at the top, while the rest were made from interstitched eggshells, all cracked and then reforged by a layer of creamy chocolate that dripped down from the sides. The headwear, meanwhile, resembled a mix between a knight’s great helm and a chef’s hat.

It looked ridiculous. It smelled delicious. It was Princess Plum Blossom's gift to Shiv for surviving and entertaining her after his attempt at making a pre-appetizer meal.

“What are you waiting for, Undying One?” Ser Appetius growled through clenched teeth. “Put on the gift. Honor Princess Plum Blossom. It was her request that you be given the Vestments of Edibility. Do you seek to offend her?”

“Just give me a second; I'm trying to take all this in, alright?” And he really was. After all his recent experiences, Shiv had thought he was beyond being surprised, but the Fairwoods had a habit of proving him wrong time and again.

He stared at the Vestments of Edibility, and the armor stared back through its blackened slits. The visor was devoid of awareness, yet something about it called him. It smelled great; it looked inviting, and silly as it might sound, Shiv kind of wanted to know what it might feel like to wear food. And then, The Chef Unwavering cast a layer of scintillation around the Vestments, and all of Shiv’s apprehensions evaporated.

He came to a stop right before the Vestments of Edibility and let his Eldritch skills slip away. His flesh returned to normal. His layer of bone and lashing tissue melted back into him, reforging his mundane biology, leaving his physical body truly bare.

His Severed Shadow was far away, seeking the borders of the Summer Court, but even after hours of travel, the table hadn't ended. Countless dishes, bowls, and plates stretched toward the horizon. It looked like a porcelain metropolis filled with foods yet to be savored. The longer he went, the larger the meals got. Shiv suspected that he was probably well past the appetizer territory into the main dish section now, but that meant there were still other things like additional entrées, side dishes, desserts, and worse, supper. Using his atlas to spy on the attendants revealed that they were placing even more dishes on the other end of the table.

“Alright,” Shiv said. “Let’s see how it feels get a carrot lodged between my cheeks.”

He laid a hand upon the armor, and with that gesture, the glistening guidance bestowed by his cooking skill turned the Vestiments of Edibility from a candle to a beacon.

Congratulations, Deathless. You have assumed the Mantle of Harvest’s Herald. Bear this privilege with a smile on your face and unceasing strength in your spine, for now, you represent the youngest daughter of Summer and the glorious fecundity she soon will birth upon the land.

Shiv's face scrunched up in thought. “Fecundity?”

Blessing Gained: Hark! Princess Plum Blossom Calls to Ye! -

Shiv's train of thought was interrupted as a series of trumpets sounded in the air while strange, winged beasts descended from above. When Shiv craned his neck, he realized that the ceiling just kept going. It was like he was at the bottom of a long well. He and his accompanying Bread-Knights had descended from that direction a few minutes before, Princess Plum Blossom having welcomed him into her Keep of Delights and ordered her subjects to make Shiv presentable. And there was another absurd moment in Shiv's life: charming a Fae Princess the size of a small country so much that she anointed him as her personal companion. By personal residence, she meant the literal multi-starred fort-castle she wore like a pendant on her neck, which was where he currently was.

Though Shiv tried to pull his arm away from the Vestments, he found himself stuck to it, or more like fusing with it. His hand was melting into the chest piece. The rivers of cream and enamel were parting, expanding, unfurling. The armor blossomed like a flower, and its many pieces collapsed on the ground. A splattering of ingredients spilled across the floor, and for a beat, Shiv wondered if he'd accidentally committed some kind of inadvertent faux pas against Princess Plum Blossom for breaking her gift. But with the way the armor fell, how it scattered all around him, he guessed something else was at play.

The screaming of the trumpets was starting to claw at his ears. He glared at the twelve winged creatures fluttering to and fro, circling the air above him, casting forth a rain of baking soda and powder that drenched him like he was relaxing beneath an erupting volcano.

“Joyous day, joyous day! Princess Plum Blossom has found a companion on this most joyous day!” The Fae somehow sang while blowing the trumpets at the same time, and their arms and legs kicked about in manic glee. Mere meters away, Shiv saw that they were only the size of his torso, while they lacked torsos of their own. Instead, they were heads that were made of teeth: rotting teeth, glistening teeth, golden teeth, all manner of teeth. Their wings were made from circular coils of enamel as well. At the center of their body was a mouth filled with rows of even more teeth.

The aesthetic of their existence was uncanny—almost unnerving.

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There was a flatness to them as well, a feeling that they were illustrations escaped from a book. Shiv used his Analyze skill on them, and an explosive headache spiked deep into his brain stem.

Analyze 1 > 9

In a blur of motion, all twelve of the creatures crashed down. They continued blowing into their trumpets, blasting him with deafening notes. But even as they played, they dipped their bare feet into the scattered Vestments of Edibility and began flinging it onto Shiv like how a dog might kick up dirt while burying a bone. And though their motions were wild and their movements erratic, each piece of the Vestments slapped into place. It was like they were rebuilding the armor around him, rather than fitting it onto his body.

“With the mantle borne, we come to serve, we the jolly, we are the starved, we, the fairies of teeth and mouths born of Her Hungriness’s great looming maw!”

Shiv stared at the horrific creatures in bafflement. “You guys are ?”

His question went unanswered as the fairies continued their work. A girdled cage made from well-sauced barbecue ribs folded around Shiv's midsection. Additional extensions of bone were slotted behind his spine, offering further support; however, along the inner layer was a softness he couldn't describe. It was like lying upon a perfectly steamed bun. The warmth, the softness, the texture all greeted his skin with a touch of pure love. An involuntary sigh slipped out from Shiv. “This feels better than I expected. Thought this would be all creamy and gross.”

Appetius scoffed with disdain. “That is because you are ignorant and foolish. Princess Plum Blossom would never allow one of her subjects to suffer meaningless discomfort.”

“Really?” Shiv asked with a smirk. “I'm glad you found eating my shit to be so purposeful.”

“You—”

The Anointed Knight's angry diatribe was cut off as the tooth fairies began yodeling in an incoherent chorus. Three of them cast their instruments aside and began using their hands alongside their feet, reconstructing his gauntlets and greaves, slipping fish heads and broccoli sprouts into place. At the same time, the glistening essence once infused within his armor spread out and nested itself as moats within the core of each tooth fairy. Shiv could feel them. There was a strange sympathetic connection that made him vaguely aware of where they were, how they were feeling, and what they were doing. He couldn't quite control them, nor could he pull on the sympathetic links as if they were chains of fear. But this felt like an attunement. A final ingredient to an eccentric new meal in the making.

“And now we are bound, our maws to your will, our hands to your labors, our feet by your call! As the Princess calls to you, you can call to us! As you reside within her keep, we will reside in you!”

“Reside in me? What? Guys, I don’t think there’s that much space in me.” Shiv looked at Appetius. “Wait, does this mean I'm getting my own minions?”

“They are not minions, Deathless Knave. They belong to Princess Plum Blossom and the Summer Court. You are merely a guest granted to your own temporary servants. Nothing more.” Though he harrumphed with all his might, Shiv could see through him and into him. His emotional core was dense with frustration.

A part of him wanted to continue poking at Appetius. The wiser whole told him to hold back—that he had gone far enough for one day.

As the eggshell chef's helmet was reconstructed around Shiv's skull, he felt a tug at his neck, and he realized the cabbage-bacon cape was being fastened tight. “There, there, there, there!” Each of the two fairies cried out at a different pitch. The final pieces of his helmet came together, and Shiv found himself staring out through a narrow slit. Though his field of view was somewhat reduced, the shells that made up his helmet were cracked, and through the gaps he could catch glimpses of the outside, feel the light of the room beyond spill inward.

Without any further warning, all the trumpeteers stopped, and then one of the tooth fairies slammed themselves down atop Shiv's head. The egg cracked some more, fracturing down the middle as Shiv felt the crown wrap around his head. The suddenness of the impact caught him off guard. The cheer fizzed him further.

Suddenly, the two fairies weren't speaking to him from the outside anymore. It felt like they were screaming at him from deep inside his head.

“A bit too loud to be clear,” Shiv muttered.

The tooth fairies laughed. Their voices sounded like pebbles bouncing around inside a pot.

“May her appetite be filled,” Ser Appetius declared.

Shiv turned and regarded the Anointed Knight from the corner of his eye. “You can hear that too?”

Appetius just sneered. “Returned from your putrid lands, I am Anointed Captain of Her Ladyship's guards once more. Whatever she says emanates through me as well. I must warn you now, Deathless. The tooth fairies are meant to be your helpers, but they are not your slaves. You cannot mistreat them or abuse them at your whim. If you seek to take advantage of our Princess's affection and goodwill, then you will answer to me and my riders.”

Sage of the Enkindled:

“Don't worry, I'm more of a slaver-killer than a slave-taker,” Shiv replied. “You got a mirror around here somewhere? I want to see how I look wearing this thing.”

Appetius scoffed. “Such a request is not meant for the Captain of the Guard. But now that you have been blessed with Her Ladyship's favor, you may levy the knowledge of your aides.”

Before Shiv could do that, a notification loaded.

Equipment Obtained: [Vestments of Edibility]

Special: Awakened/Pathbearing

Tier: Narrative/Initiate

Condition: Fine

Composition: Cabbage; Broccoli; Cream; Beef; Chicken; Turkey…(>+1000)

Path:

Food

Skills

Fairies of Teeth and Hunger Lend Thy Aide (Initiate) 1

This Fecund Bounty (Initiate) 1

This Armor My Pantry (Narrative)

Food Sense (Initiate) 1

Mealstrider (Initiate) 1

Shiv expected enchantments; he got something else entirely. Something much better. “Never heard of a Pathbearing armor before. Wait, does this mean that the armor's alive and something's separate aside from me? Are you guys like the spirits of this artwork? Is that why you showed up all of a sudden?”

The fairies blasted Shiv with noise.

Two thoughts of varying importance sped through Shiv's mind. The first was that the System had to hate Can Hu. Shiv's Voidmantid armor already had the Penitent reacting like a jilted lover; the Vestments added another notch in the tally of cuckoldry. The second was an understanding that the Summer Court was likely using him. This piece of armor was both Narrative and also Initiate-Tier. Between being exposed to his System-favored nature and all the carnage that waited in his future, Shiv was about to do some leveling.

But he wasn't against that at all. If the Vestments of Edibility worked like how Shiv expected, this was practically like gaining a second Path. Of course, it wasn't his Path, and the court would likely try to take it from him the moment he went astray, but still, the fact that an item could gain a Path of its own offered incredible opportunities.

And on top of that, this new set of armor came with a host of twelve servants.

“Hey, tooth fairies? Hunger fairies? Whatever you are, you think you can help me find a mirror?” Shiv’s question resulted in a blast of trumpets going off inside his skull.

The trumpeting got even louder as eleven tooth fairies shot forward. They sailed past Shiv, their little wings rattling with every flutter, like teeth clicking together. The melody they played was delightful, upbeat, and frenzied. As their song rose, the insides of the keep shook, and Shiv's eyes widened as what he thought was a section of wall rolled to reveal a rounded door. Beyond that, he was struck by a blast of warm flavors and the unmistakable scent of something being roasted over a naked flame. The corridors were dripping and melting. The ceiling was made of caramel, while the walls were shaped from chocolate. The floor, meanwhile, was crusty like well-toasted bread. All of it called to Shiv, pulled at his soul in a strange way. There was something dimensional about the tug, something that defied space itself, if only he ate something…

As Shiv followed his guides, he realized that one of their number was still missing. He felt at the crown fused around his head.

An explosive burst of giggles nearly gave him a concussion.

Shiv coughed. “Yeah. Sorry. Just trying to keep track of all of you.”

He continued on, using his Shapeless Tides to carry himself across the hall without ruining any of the surrounding architecture. Shiv knew how heavy he was, and most ingredients didn’t make for very good building materials. The Fairwoods were a strange place, but he really didn’t want to risk damaging anything and falling through the floor or walls. Yet, Shiv wasn’t the only one trailing behind the fairies. A contingent of Bread-Knights lingered a few steps behind and then fused with the toasted floor in a blur of mingling substances.

Shiv halted mid-step as Ser Appetius fully submerged into the surrounding bread stuff. “Be on your way, Favored Companion,” his voice sounded. “Enjoy the Princess' gift and learn its skills as best you can. She will be calling you soon. And you, like me, will be made to serve. But only one of us will remain with the morrow’s coming. And it will not be you, Deathless. It will not be—”

“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” Shiv walked away, not even dignifying the Anointed Knight’s threats. The fool didn't know how right he was; with Evanescia flipping the story back to the beginning every time something went wrong, Shiv guessed he might be reliving this day a good number of times.

And lead him they did. Through the winding interior of the keep. Down a set of rounded stairs that kept going for minutes and minutes and minutes more. Past a vast hall of portraits presenting different knights, such as Sir Cabbages the Pure and Sir Humpty the Cracked, along with a partially blacked-out picture that had a commemorative plaque dedicated to Sir Laxative, the Food Relieving.

“This place is something between a fever dream and a parody,” Shiv muttered to himself.

the fairies bound to his new armor screeched in offense.

Shiv could feel the sheer intensity in their emotions. They were beyond serious. And they wanted him to be beyond serious about how dedicated he was going to be to the Princess as well.

“Right. Of course. I meant all that in a good way. It’s like a… foodie’s wonderland. The kind of place that might put someone into a coma. Or give them diabetes. Someone weak, I mean. Someone who could never match the Princess’s appetite.”

A blaring of trumpets signaled the approval of his fairies.

“Huh? Where—” Shiv stopped mid-step.

Shiv wasn't listening. He was struck dead in his tracks by a sight he couldn't believe.

Just to his left hung a portrait of a man who wore a layer of gleaming armor. It was styled to look like a chef's dress, yet forged from steel. The buttons gleamed, opal gems infused with magical power. His eyes burned bright, leaking incandescence even from the paints that presented his likeness. A bit of Divinity lasted even now, within the artwork. But all that paled before the man himself. His dirty blonde hair. His puffy reddish face. His inflamed cheeks and tired eyes. The cigarette trapped between his lips.

“Ser Cuntus of Motherfuckland”, as denoted by his plaque, glared down at Shiv much the same way Georges did when things were going from bad to fucked. He did that because he Georges. It wasn't just a similarity; they looked entirely the same, down to their favorite expressions, down to the cigarette brand.

Speechless, Shiv leaned in, trying to drink in every detail—

“Alright, that’s enough bloody staring, you twat!” the Georges in the portrait snapped, speaking with his adoptive father's voice. “I swear, if you’re going to try and rub your bits on me, I’ll come up there myself and toss your shriveled cock in with the rest of the lot and see if it adds anything to the bull penis soup I’m trying to make right now!”

Shiv flinched backward and blinked rapidly. “I—uh—”

“I—uh—uh—uh,” the painted Georges babbled with animated mockery. He went cross-eyed and waved his arms about. “You what? Were you dropped on your head as a child a few dozen times too many, or did you miss out on a proper speaking skill?”

Shiv failed to process anything the tooth fairies were saying. He was too fixated on Georges cursing him out. A vortex of emotions churned inside Shiv. This was too good to be true; he didn’t want to believe, but Georges was here, right in front of him, scowling and sneering and snapping just like he did in life.

“I can talk,” Shiv whispered, unable to conjure anything greater than a lame reply.

Ser Cuntus barked a laugh. “Oh, can you, now? Thank Her Hungriness for small wonders. Well. Why are you looking up my dress, gawker? Don’t tell me I got a smear on my nose again.”

“No.” Shiv swallowed. “I just… I just didn’t expect to… to see you here. I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again at all.”