102. Moonlit Interview

As Serac's second day of ascension drew to a close, she was treated to a night sky truly worth remembering.

The Pretjordian sun set behind the Roots, pulling down with it a velvety screen of myrtle-green. A pale-jade moon then materialized in its place, floating unhurriedly across the very top of the Realm, where it spent the rest of the night peeking in and out between the outlines of a distant canopy—a canopy belonging to the Realmtree's Crown, also known as Krongard.

Krongard. That was where the king and queen resided, together with their stable of Wayfarers who might occasionally deign to descend the Realmtree and help the common folk with their common problems. Serac had assumed her journey would take her there sooner or later, along with an inevitable meeting where she and Zacko would have to decide on the exact method of obtaining their next Ascension Mandate.

But no one could've foreseen that the meeting would happen so soon. Or that it'd take place at one of the 'lowest' points of the Realm.

"Loha too used to love our night sky," King Tyr murmured to no one in particular, bull-shark face softened by fond recollection. "After she joined me in the palace, every night, she would sit for hours on the balcony, just moon-watching. At first, I thought it was the novelty that appealed to her; I've heard horror stories about the dreary blood-red that fills the Naraka sky. But then she told me something interesting. She said looking at our moon gave her comfort… like seeing an old friend or being told a bedtime story as a child. Is that how you see it too?"

The question had come direct from the king, but Serac nevertheless took her sweet time, letting the answer percolate until it made sense in her mind.

"As someone with no experience with old friendships or bedtime stories, I can't say I relate. But when I look at this moon, I imagine what it might reflect. The stories of all the Yakshas who lived and died here (some more often than others) through the Kalpas. Joys, hardships, hopes and dreams both sated and unfulfilled. After all, it's not just me or Loha, is it? All souls who sprout upon the Realmtree would've watched the same moon at one time or another, sharing with it secrets we wouldn't dare even with our closest friends."

"Beautifully put, Serac!" Tyr enthused with a wide smile. Which, as genuinely friendly as it was, had the terrifying effect of revealing the full set of his serrated teeth. "I say, Loha too has a bit of the philosopher-poet in her. Is this something that's common? You must understand, I haven't known too many Rakshasas in my life."

"I got you, Shark Bro," Zacko interjected then, leaning back lazily in his seat. His speech was slightly garbled, owing to his picking his teeth with a sharpened twig. "I met all kinds of Rakshasas while I was down in hell, and no, they're not all princess-poets like Serac. But I suppose when you're one of the rare Naraka starters that manage to ascend every few centuries, you'd almost have to be an oddball."

Tyr closed his tooth-laden mouth and nodded sagely, apparently in full agreement. If he took any offense on his wife's behalf for being called an 'oddball', he didn't show it.

"Can I ask you something?" Serac said, frowning thoughtfully up at Tyr's massive frame. After an evening of shared merriment and gastronomic delights, she felt as though she could say anything to the Yaksha king… like the two of them were 'old friends', as it were. "How did you and your wife, you know, end up together? I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but a powerful soul like you, you must've had your pick of local admirers. Why an outrealmer—and why Loha specifically?"

"Serac!" Zacko cut in with mock outrage, exaggerated eyebrows raised to the night sky. "Never pegged you for a shameless gossip! I thought you were meant to be the classy one between the two of us."

"What?" Serac shrugged innocently. "Don't pretend you're not curious too! Besides, with Loha out of earshot, what better time is there to ask?"

Indeed, the conversation might've gone a lot different if the queen hadn't retired early for the night, (understandably) exhausted after putting her HEARTHSTONE through the wringer. Presently, the only souls left inside the crater were the king, his two outrealmer guests, and several sleepy soldiers and their sleeping tortoises. Even the rowdy Rotgardian civilians had packed up and left en masse, slinking back into the shadows of the wasteland without so much as a second glance at the visitors.

"It's a perfectly reasonable question, and I'm happy to answer it," Tyr said with a mild, rumbling chuckle. "How do I love Loha? I can count the ways, and sit here all night doing it. Her brilliant mind, her fierce personality, her understated beauty. None of it a lie, and all valid reasons for choosing a life partner, but if I'm being fully candid with myself, it was her food that first made me stop and think: hm, perhaps I ought to put a ring on that."

"I mean, sure, she does make a mean peach pie." Serac conceded, even though a part of her was disappointed by the answer. What had she expected? Something a little more—what was the word?

"Did you expect something a little more romantic, Serac?" Tyr said good-naturedly, apparently sympathetic to Serac's disappointment. "It's fair enough. I wouldn't expect someone who's spent all of two days here to understand. But believe you me when I say that cooking good food is the most romantic thing one Pretjordian could do for another."

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"Elaborate." Zacko shifted in his seat and flattened his eyebrows. "I may or may not be taking notes."

"Happily," Tyr obliged. "Let me begin by saying that the Realmtree is a gorgeous home, and I wouldn't trade it for all the Six Realms of Mount Meru. Yet when one spends their entire existence foraging—that is hunting, gathering, stockpiling, trading, and even scheming for that next meal—food very quickly becomes a chore rather than the pleasure it's meant to be. Doubly or even triply so when you've lived for as long as I have. That's why… when Loha came around with her new ideas and her 'magical touch', if you will, she truly took my world by storm. After all, you know what they say: variety is the spice of life."

Tyr's shark eyes took on a faraway look then, steeped in more recollection. Whether out of respect or some shared sense of nostalgia, the outrealmers too fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

As was becoming more and more frequent of late, Serac couldn't quite decipher her own feelings. On the one hand, she was happy for Tyr and Loha, and perhaps even a tiny bit envious of their seemingly perfect marriage. On the other, she couldn't dismiss all the red flags that had been planted on the way to meeting the royal couple. The secrecy, the discontent among the people, the lies and accusations.

She certainly couldn't ignore the 'biggest' flag of them all: a Narakite worm that had been gnawing at the Roots of the Realmtree for gods knew how long. Serac would have to be willfully dense to accept that 'Mully' had nothing to do with the only Rakshasa to have been around for the last 381 years.

All questions she needed to get to the bottom of. But she had enough sense to realize she won't get the answers by asking them here.

"Alright, enough gossip." Zacko was the first to break the silence, sitting up straight and spitting out his toothpick as he did. "Before we all tuck in for the night, let's take care of some business, shall we? First, Shark Bro, there's a little thing your wife did that's got me and Serac in a pickle. Now, I'm not telling you to go over your missus's head, but I'm also not not telling you, if you catch my drift?"

"You speak of the moratorium," Tyr said with a prompt nod. He then clapped his bulksome hands, so loudly as to have made Serac jump, before turning them over to show his open palms. "Done. Consider it revoked. As of this Ksana and by my royal order, Wayfarers Zacarias Borges-Juventus and Serac Edin are entitled to full foraging rights throughout Stamgard and Rotgard. I only ask that you observe the local customs and remain respectful of your fellow foragers."

"That was easy," Zacko remarked, one eyebrow raised. "Well then, let's strike while the iron's hot. Any chance you could roll with the good vibes and grant us the Ascension Mandate too? I mean, we did kind of save one-third of your Realm from total ecological collapse."

Us and three others, Serac had nearly said aloud. But even she knew not to needlessly complicate matters.

"That is true enough," Tyr admitted with an appreciative smile, one that carefully hid his teeth, "but I'm afraid the process for earning a Mandate is a little more structured than that. But tell you what, this leads into what I wanted to propose to the two of you."

The Yaksha king's jovial face settled into a solemn expression—the same with which he'd earlier kicked off a grand feast. He now directed it between his two outrealmer guests.

"Zacarias. Serac. How would you like to join my Kronvakt? Normally, there'd be an exam, an interview, and a probation period… but in your case, I believe we can make an exception. I'll say your cave expedition was the exam, this chat the interview—both of which you've passed with flying colors, by the way—and as for probation, I'm sure I can find someone in the Kronvakt to take you under their fins for some on-the-job training. Well? What do you say?"

Kronvakt. That elite regiment of the royal army made up entirely of Yaksha Wayfarers. Supposedly so elite, in fact, that they'd turn their noses up at a pair of Rotgardian twins who'd otherwise be more than qualified to join their ranks.

As much as the notion of an 'enlisted' Wayfaring army—as well as the hypocrisy of denying the Tomasens while welcoming the outrealmers with open arms—went against everything Serac stood for, she still had to stop for a moment and weigh up the offer. Not least because the voice in her head wouldn't let her off the hook without at least a show of consideration.

"I know you'll say no," came Trippy's pitch, right on cue, "but I still urge you to think it over. By accepting King Tyr's offer, you kill two birds with one stone. First, stable employment and food source in a Realm that demands it. Second, a legitimate pathway to earning the Ascension Mandate, one that doesn't involve turning the whole Realm against you. Moreover—and I don't know if I should even be suggesting this—in case you do end up going for that Mandate the hard way… well, surely there's no better place to attempt it than from inside the Immortal's own palace."

It was all Serac could do to suppress a laugh of surprise, which would've been quite strange within the outside-voice context. She nevertheless took Trippy's advice on board while coming to her own conclusion. She glanced at Zacko before she announced her decision, but only as a matter of formality. Her Manusya partner met her gaze with his trademark sardonic grin, ever ready to roll with the punches.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Serac said with a confident smile to match Tyr's genial one. "Zacko and I didn't break free of our hellish chains only to serve a different master one Realm up. Besides, as far as I can tell, we've done nothing but descend so far, and now you're asking us to skip all the way to the top of the Realm? Don't you think that goes against the spirit of this whole climbing Mount Meru thing? No, we'll go our own way, starting right here in the Roots."

If the Realm Immortal took any offense at having his generous offer so emphatically rejected, he didn't show it. If anything, his smile widened a touch, just enough to show some serrated bull-shark teeth.

"I understand, and I can't say I'm all that surprised," King Tyr said. "Well, go forth then, Wayfarers. Seek your answers and chase your potentials. You have my blessing and well wishes, but know that my offer remains open, should you ever change your mind. Oh, and one more thing: may your Path never lead you astray for long."

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