Chapter Text
Rejected by god.
Normally that isn't something you want on your résumé, but in a world where god is barred from certain stores for shoplifting, it shouldn't be too concerning.
But as a higher being myself, it's simply unacceptable.
I give him a glare, wings puffing up behind me slightly as my hands ball into fists. I'm not stupid; I won't attack my idol. "Why not?"
"Ehhh..."
A bite of his sandwich simply vanishes as he holds it close to his head. A blank television screen, no tells or signs I've gotten through to him. He won't even look at me. "I'on' wanna," comes his blunt response. The drane...? "Wh- What do you MEAN you don't WANT to!?" I find myself stammering, thrusting the blueprints in my hand against his arm. He shifts away from me in his seat as I unfurl the paper, desperately trying to grab his attention to my perfect plans. "I'm- I'm perfectly capable, I have everything planned out and I even have people willing to give a 'Starr' Kingdom a shot, if you would just--"
"No."
I stand. Indignantly, neatly folding up my plans before shoving them into my satchel again. He watches me as I move, almost judgementally. "It's more than just I don't wanna, actually," he mutters, taking yet another bite of his sandwich, "There are enough Kingdoms as is."
Damn right. Ruler Malter can't even hold his own.
The look on my face seems to catch his attention, later than I'd thought. "They're made specially for the purpose of Ruling, Reese," he says. My wings lower; of course he'd know. "Changing your name and like... begging me for a place isn't really gonna work. Best you could do is find a Ruler willing to let you, eh... ghost them? Like... a mentoring thing."
A mentoring thing. At best, it would come from The Creator himself, but clearly, he has "better" things to do. Although it isn't a bad idea. And it's put like an opportunity... For promotion, perhaps? I can't help but smile down at him. "So who should I go to?" "Whoever will listen, I guess," he sighs, taking the final bite of his sandwich. He folds it up neatly, and... offers it to me. "Good luck and all that. By the way, could you... throw this away for me?"
My first sidequest on the road to glory... I give him a dutiful salute, to which his screen dims, before taking the foil and bowing.
Off to the nearest trashcan, Majnae.
---
For a trashcan, I'll give it this; the castle is beautiful.
And edible, too. The court jester persistently slaps my hand away from the vases lining the halls, but I nudge him away with my wings. One collision with his melting visage finally gets him to speak. "What the drane is an angel doing in the First Kingdom?"
"You tell me what the drane a lowly Majnaean is doing speaking to an angel," I snap at him, allowing him to catch up and walk beside me regardless. "You should be honoured I'm here."
"As Malter's personal advisor and second in--"
At this, I nearly find myself laughing. "Second in command? You're dressed like a medieval fool!"
My statement seems to pass straight through him, as he restarts his own. "...As Malter's personal advisor and second in command, I think the wants of an angel are the least of our concerns. So if you would kindly leave--"
I groan, pushing him back behind me with a wing. To be met with my fourth denial of the day in Majnae of all places is already a disgrace of its own. Divine might of mine could send this melting man of ice cream straight to the afterlife, but...
I can't believe I'm thinking this-- 'I have to be on good terms with Malter.'
"I, Mr. Starr, angel of the heavens--" "That's... not a thing." "-- and pupil of The Creator, have formal business with your leader," I strain through gritted teeth. Half of me hopes Ruler Malter says no; that way I could at least move on to more respectable affairs.
The jester-advisor gives me one of the most hateful looks I've gotten to date, before sighing.
"If I let you into the throne room, will you leave."
"Most likely."
Without another word, he pushes open the massive caramel door.
Unlike the rest of the castle, the throne room is a mess. What I presume is Malter's throne has been reduced to rubble, licorice-woven rugs a mess about the floor. In the middle of this ruined hall is a sugar glass chandelier, shattered, denting the ground. How it lit, I'll never know, what with Majnaeans being averse to fire. I suppose he's lucky this castle isn't in flames for it. I squint, adjusting my monocle as I scan the hall...
Pacing about in a corner with a small jawbreaker-iron table is Malter.
What a mess of a man. I take my time walking over to him, listening to the echoes of his shoes hurrying about the floor.
It takes two clearings of the throat to finally catch his eye, or rather lack thereof.
"Kh-hem."
"PLEASEDON'TKILLMEIMEANYOUCAN'TKILLMEBUTITSTILLREALLYHUUURTS--!"
...I slap him. Admittedly not the best choice, but I really can't help it. What a mess...
It takes him a moment to regain his footing, and as he straightens up, I take the only seat at the table.
"O-Okay. You're not here to kill me?"
"I'm... not here to kill you, no."
He breathes a sigh of relief, loosening the grip on his cane. "Okay... okay, so why... why are you here, uh..." "Mr. Starr, angel of the heavens and pupil to Th-"
"Mr. Starr." My face falls, and by Crea I hope he sees it.
He does, and his brows furrow nervously. "I- I'm sorry, you said you were an angel?" "Of the highest calibre, yes." "Um... why ARE you here? To... To help?"
"Oh, no, no, I just want your help."
One of his brows raises in bewilderment. Of course he doesn't get it.
"You see, my greatest aspiration is to become a Ruler! But our dear Creator believes I don't yet have experience, so naturally, I come to you, grand associate, to mentor--"
He's tapped his cane against my arm. He still appears confused, but there's a slightly more final air to him now, as he slowly retracts his cane and puts it to the floor again.
"Er... no."
...
"The drane do you mean, 'no'?"
As if he's in a place to deny me, as the weakest and by far most pathetic Ruler in the entirety of this plane. And yet, I watch as he awkwardly motions for me to stand, and I begrudgingly have to obey.
He pushes the chair back in behind me, and it grinds against the tattered floor, forcing me to wince at the sound. "I'm... I'm k-kind of super, suuuuper busy with other- other stuff."
I huff, ear wing stretching as I exclaim, "What could POSSIBLY be more important than helping me out right now!?"
"...War?"
"Oh, yes, sure," I say, still in disbelief, "I'm sure that your little century-civil war is so much more important that helping an entire new Kingdom grow is suddenly moot."
"It..."
He scratches at the back of his head, unsure of what to say. "It is...? I- I'm sorry I can't help you, uh, Mr.... Starr, it's just I have a lot on my plate right now, um... trying not to get killed..."
"You can't get killed, you buffoon."
"Not for forever, but it still hurts a lot, okay!? I- I mean--"
Malter turns away, back to his makeshift corkboard littered with papers and maps I don't care to read. He scans it for a moment, and ends up snatching a blank post-it note from one of the far corners. After hastily scribbling on it with his almost drained pen, he hands it to me. A crudely drawn spiral... "Is... this your face?"
"Show it to- to Prosperk or Gallvant, I don't know, just- just tell them I sent you and they'll hear you out. I'm sorry, I- I really am, that I can't help you, I just..."
I pocket the note, watching as he collapses onto the chair. "I'm dealing w-with a lot right now, okay? Maybe they can hear you out."
"As if I need you to help me gain an audience with them. I'm an angel, damn it," comes my disbelief, as I begin to walk away, "And I'll be damned if I need YOUR help. Good day, Malter, and yes, good luck."
I drown out his pleas to listen as I storm out of his castle.
If he's so engrossed with war, surely he won't notice a candy flower missing...