#cosmopolitan cookie

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Dragon City has always been noisy, but after Beast of Pride had conquered it, it almost became unbearable. The cacophony of sounds. The amount of people. Both the original citizens and the invaders. The arguing, or harsher conversations could be heard all the time. Fear, anger, and confusion mixing. There were a lot of soldiers as well. Patrolling. Looking for rebels who were hiding and scheming. After the burning of the library the ‘safety measures’ have been increased. It’s been like that for almost a year now.

A lot of things were being transported through the city. Usually all to the same place. To the colosseum. It wasn’t exactly in the city, but it was quite close to it. Multiple carriages and carts drove there. Be it with food, resources, armor… or cages with animals. The colosseum housed a lot of… gladiators and creatures. A lot of fights were happening, a lot of damage. Everything had to be kept in the top shape. Especially given how the loud roaring unsettled citizens. But that was specifically only at the end of every second month, and Dragonberry dealt with it in glorious fashion. Even allowing others to watch her might. 

Today there was another delivery. A special one, after the trip to Beast-Yeast. From three ships that had been sent out, only one returned with most of its crew. Two others had been shot down. Exploded within seconds. 

The wagon that was pulled by the horses was entirely made of metal. Like a moving prison cell. There was a wooden box tied on top of it. It seemed excessive. Even viscous animals were given more light. What was hiding in this one? One wouldn't know. But the Cookies that were in charge of it looked very unnerved. Especially the man who was holding the rifle. His posture tense, always glancing back at the cart. The gun pointed down. Finger not quite on trigger as to not fire on accident, but it was close to it.

A lot of gossip stirred. Of what possibly could be inside. That it required a cage made of steel. That a firearm had to be ready to use. Because it was quite unusual. Once Hollyberry Kingdom started the occupancy they enforced their own laws. One of them being that only specific groups were allowed to own and use firearms. Any individual without a permit would have their weapon confiscated. And a lot of them were confiscated. Especially the self modified weapons.

Even members of the church, that had been previously abandoned for a long while, stopped their chores just to watch the cart pass by. Some nuns and friars watched with frowns. Some shadowy figures watched through the stained glass of a building with disdain. How great it was they had been given the order to return to this place, shortly before it got taken over by a neo-beast. Allowed them to see how the situation developed, how some major event played out. And most importantly gave them a chance to give some of the residents a chance at peace.

One thing could be said for sure. Before any games in the colosseum could take place, everybody already knew there was a new priced addition to it. The question was what addition exactly it was.

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Dragonberry already waited at one of the gates of the colosseum. She had gotten the message a week ago that the ship had returned… one ship. But it had who she wanted, so she'd consider it a victory. She had wanted to see the archer for herself. The thorn in the side that had to be taken out so carefully. How bothersome he had been. It felt great, seeing that cart slowly getting closer and closer.

The wagon passed through the gates. Didn't even stop for her. Which she didn't mind. Simple safety measure. Always check things in a controlled environment. Never let things go out of hand. 

She slowly walked after the cart. The iron gates slowly closed behind her. She watched how her people got off to the ground. Dust kicking up the moment their shoes made contact. Among them was Cosmopolitan. He seemed to be healthy at first glance, but he didn’t appear to be mentally present.

“Well? Since you got all the way here, I assume the mission was successful.” She started. Her hands on her hips.

“He's in there…” Cosmo answered. Nodding to himself. Still somewhat unnerved. Despite how many days have passed.

She just raised one of her eyebrows and looked at another cookie. That one was more of a medic, a scientist. They had black hair with a pink streak in it. They were holding a journal with many loose pages. They versed through it rapidly. Looking back at her anxiously. 

“The prisoner has uh… definitely legendary aspect…” they started, unsure. 

“Oh really? And yet you were able to drag him down all those stairs.”

“We… didn't drag him down…”

“When I shot him, he fell down from the cliff. All the way to the bottom…” Cosmopolitan said, still not looking up.

“... He fell thousands of meters down, and survived?” Dragonberry looked at them with her eyes wide open. She sounded both surprised and impressed. The smile formed on her face.

“It's not that he survived the drop… it's the fact he got up.”

The smile disappeared just as fast.

“... Pardon?”

“One of the soldiers had to shoot him again to pacify him.”

Cosmopolitan closed his eyes and counted to ten. Trying to calm his mind down. To force the last few months out of his mind. His throat felt dry and as if it was burning.

The voyage to Beast-Yeast itself was alright. It simply took longer because they couldn't go through the Licorice Sea. Had to go around it and then stay close to the shore. The issue had started when fog raised. Blocking the view, he couldn't shoot when he couldn't see. Thankfully it didn't stay for that long. Whatever or whoever was controlling it couldn’t keep it up.

… Still two out of three of their ships had exploded, and ten sailors were lost to pale ailment. It felt horrifying to Cosmo… at first at least. Seeing them start coughing like he did. Seeing them getting paler. Seeing them feverish, rambling about greener lands and brighter sun. Seeing them being reduced to nothing. Seeing how it ended. How it could end for him.

His medication was supposed to last him for the entire voyage. Multiple bottles labeled for travel to Beast-Yeast and back. The latter part of supply was out in less than three weeks. Partially because it was used to help others (useless. It hadn't helped. The medicine was just wasted on them). Partially because he started taking more of it out of panic. What was supposed to be two pills max, had turned into four. Sometimes leaving him feeling beyond numb and dazed. Sometimes making him vomit the medicine, because his stomach couldn’t handle it. He didn’t like how regardless of how much he took his fingers started to get numb more often. Could still move them, they were still intact. But he just couldn’t feel them anymore. A strange thing it was, to feel the palm of his hand but not the fingers.

His hand was twitching. He should get more medicine. He should find a doctor. He didn’t want to look under his gloves. He hadn’t taken them off since sailors had fallen sick. Something deep in him refused to do it, despite knowing what he would see. How stupid. How moronic.

And yet the most hunting image of the entire trip was probably the body of the archer. Shooting him from afar had been… scarily easy actually. All of it had boiled down to just lining it up correctly. Aiming. And pulling the trigger. And he simply watched through the glass, how his target was pushed down from the mountain. The force and speed of a bullet being too much.

Of course, everybody assumed Cosmo had just killed a guy by accident. So they took a smaller boat and made it to the shore.

It had been a horrific scene. It had almost made him gag. A mangled body. Broken in several places. Bones sticking out. Broken arms. Broken leg. Broken ribcage. Broken skull. Blood all over the man, on the rocks, on the sand. A metallic scent in the air. Overwhelming. Nothing else to smell but blood. And that body had looked up at them. He had looked up at them. Rising to his feet. Painful groan. The sounds had been nauseating. Like a meat being squished. Torn flesh moving, tearing itself up even more. Blue and red veins exposed. Organs almost falling out. But still held in place as if to defy gravity. And they were pulsing, working. Heart especially. Rapidly beating. Despite the commotion Cosmopolitan had heard it clearly (or maybe his mind made it seem even worse). How poor organ continued to pump the blood that kept on flowing out. There had been steam coming off, as if the blood had been too warm. As if it had been about to boil. 

A body shouldn’t move like that. It shouldn’t look like that. It shouldn’t behave like that. It shouldn’t get up–

“I monitored his recovery during the voyage,” the medic continued. Looking at their notes, their hands shaking a bit. “He fully healed in just two days. But the fact of how fast it was caused some… side effects, and it took weeks for them to stop. After and during it he didn’t speak with us. But he was mumbling to himself…”

Dragonberry just listened with her head tilted to the side. For a second she considered studying the guy for research, but hearing that his recovery caused side effects, it gave her doubts. Still, she extended the hand for the notebook. The Cookie gave it to her without an objection. She could read their notes and see how the archer would be doing in the colosseum. Afterward she could decide if it’s worth the trouble to keep the guy hooked on tranquilizers… very strong tranquilizers.

Not to get his strength or to experiment. Unless it came from a dragon, she didn't want it. But if the guy was gonna suffer after every fight, keeping him alive could be costly. She could rush fighting him, if he won't be completely useless in the arena. 

The main reason had been getting him out of the way. Now her ships could finally get to Beast-Yeast… hopefully. Whatever she did with him was less important. Maybe she could get some additional info out of him. Or she could give him up to Celestial Cheese, if she got bored. The other Neo-Beast always found a new use for someone. Nothing went to waste.

Speaking of other Neos… on one hand it could be actually worth researching the guy. Getting some better scientists assigned to him. If he had recovered from two bullet wounds, and such a high drop… for a moment she wondered if his healing was in any way similar to Saint’s. Because if it was, it was definitely better to study the archer. To perhaps find out where the limit in such healing could be. How to maybe push it overboard, for those side effects to happen, for them to be more prominent. It would be beyond useful to remove Saint Vanilla out of the picture. Preferably sooner than later.

“Where is his bow and arrows?” She finally asked after a moment.

“Bow and a knife are in the wooden box,” the scientist answered. “He had no arrows when he fell, must have left on top of that cliff.”

“... he had a knife?” Dragonberry asked. Somehow that seemed a tad strange to her.

“A skinning knife. The Archer is probably a huntsman…” Cosmopolitan answered. 

Many huntsmen did carry a skinning knife by themselves. The huntsmen who actually hunted for food and fur that is. In Hollyberry kingdom butchers were usually the ones who skinned the game. And then what happened with the skin or fur depended on the hunter. More jobs were involved. More employment, and nobles didn't have to worry about getting their hands too dirty.

“His armor is also in the box. It would require some repair, though. The bullet caused a bit of damage.” The scientist added.

In the colosseum armor for warriors was usually provided. But if they had their own, then sometimes they were allowed to use it. Dragonberry knew very well that it does make a difference what one is wearing. Of course, a true Hollyberian would be able to fight even in a puffy dress or a tight suit. Regardless, she had seen that some of the gladiators performed better with their own weapons and their own armor. The comfort, the confidence it provided. The public remembered the soldiers by the shine and color of their steel.

She would order one of the smiths to fix it as soon as possible. She really wanted to see him fight. A man who worked from a distance, trapped in an enclosure. She eyed the steel cart. Even for her that was a bit of an overkill. But better be safe than sorry. Her people have seen that man survive a lethal drop and recover in outstanding time. They just didn't want to take any chances.

“Open it up.” She ordered, nodding her head at the cart. “Gotta see our new priced addition.”

Cosmopolitan sighed and turned around. He changed his grip on the gun to hold it with one hand. With the other he reached into his pocket for the keys. When he found them he pushed one into the keyhole. But he didn’t turn it. Not yet.

“He looks normal?” He asked.

On the ship he never had gone down to see how the archer had been doing. Why should he? The sight of his mangled body had been enough for a lifetime. And he already had to deal with others falling sick…

“He's looking too normal for me. Not even a scar.”

Somehow the scientist's words made him feel even more unnerved. Still, he finally turned the key and pulled the door open. The inside of the truck was dark. But there was a silhouette at the very end. Sitting cross legged on the floor. As if they were meditating and someone now interrupted them.

“We're here. Get up.” Cosmopolitan said shortly. Trying to sound stern. He tapped onto the metal with the barrel of his rifle. The sound echoed. 

The captive finally got up. Slowly, unbothered. The rattling of the chains was already heard. The man slowly got out of the cart.  

His wrists and ankles were chained together. The chains were long and loose enough to allow him to walk. But short enough that if the prisoner attempted to run he would definitely trip and fall. The man clearly wore the clothes in which he had fallen. What once was white and blue fabric, now was almost wholly covered in dried blood. In some places it was lighter, almost reddish. In others it was dark and brown. And yet he seemed to not care.

“Do you know how many issues you have caused me?” She started. Looking down at him.

The Sun Hunting Archer differed from what she imagined. He was way smaller than she expected. But his upper body did seem to be well built. He was younger as well. Delicate facial features, not even a sign of facial hair. And like the scientist had said - not even a scar. He seemed to be in his early twenties at most. She always had imagined someone older. Someone in their forties or fifties. 

His black eyes stared up at her. But there was no fear. No awe. No anger. Just boredom. Maybe not even that. It was just… blank. Simply staring at her, with no feelings or expectations. 

“You've got nothing to say?” She tried again. To get a reaction out of him. “You're not interested where you are and why?” She smiled at him still, but there was a slowly rising anger. She hated being ignored.

He opened his mouth. Feeling of triumph started to grow in her chest. Having the Sun Archer in chai–

“我的弓在哪里?”

It was as if music came to a screeching halt. Dragonberry just slowly blinked at the shorter man, who looked at her with indifferent expression. An instant yet simple realization hit her.

The man in front of her was from Flour Ridge. The place that was infamous for being empty, only three maybe four legendary beings there. Of course he would speak the native language only.

It was as if music came to a screeching halt. Dragonberry just slowly blinked at the shorter man, who looked at her with indifferent expression. An instant yet simple realization hit her.

The man in front of her was from Flour Ridge. The place that was infamous for being empty, only three maybe four legendary beings there. Of course he would speak the native language only.

Well. Now she felt stupid. What an ugly feeling. Ew.

She just looked at the scientist with a raised brew.

“I… I’m not sure if he understands the common language…” They admitted nervously. Not even looking up at her. “He refused to answer my questions… or maybe he just didn’t understand me… but all the time he was mumbling it was in his language…”

She held herself back from groaning. Okay. At best, he just refused to cooperate. She could work with that, and a bit of defiance was good. It gave him an edge. She wondered how long that sharpness could last. But if he genuinely only knew his native language then there was a bit of an issue on their hands. Because someone would actually need to teach him common speech. Because no one knew the ancient language from the mountains. Maybe someone on Beast-Yeast did, but she had no idea where to find them. Nobody really climbed those mountains nowadays. Even during her travels she had been warned to stay away. Those who chose to climb those stairs were always sick and never came back. People went there to die peacefully.

Dragonberry just pointed with her hand at the corridor behind her. “Get him a number, fill up the documents, and get him into the first cell with free space. Just not with anyone aggressive, I don't need gladiators infighting again.” She looked at Cosmopolitan. “There’s Baeckeoffe Cookie waiting for you in sector C. They'll show you the animals.” Then she glanced at the scientist. “You're gonna watch over the Archer and monitor his health and anomalies after each fight. Just make sure he won't suddenly drop dead.”

The researcher looked like they wanted to be swallowed whole by earth. And yet the two of them only nodded. Cosmo put his hand on the prisoner's back and pushed him a bit forward. The blond man complied and moved as directed. But he did glance to the side as he passed by Dragonberry. But only for a short moment.

-----

“They want you to change right here–”

“I've heard them.”

Ghee was mumbling in Flourian underneath his breath. He was lucky enough that the guards spoke a common language. At least Scorching Sun didn't have to translate everything, like it was back on the ship. There they spoke Hollyberian apparently.

It had been hard to listen to her. When his body had been healing. It almost hurt more after he had recovered than before. Almost. Getting… shot and falling down was still one of the worst experiences he had (out of the physical ones). He still had that bullet in his right shoulder. The doctor had been able to remove only the second bullet. The first one was too deep, and before they could try the next day, that wound had already healed.

He needed his knife back. Or any other sharp tool. To cut through skin and dig through muscle. Just to get that thing out. It hurt to move his arm all the way back. How was he supposed to draw back the string of a bow?

He stared at the clothes that he was given. His chains were removed so he could change. A few guards were staring at him. That scientist was holding a bunch of documents. And something like a pencil in their hand, just more mechanical. 

“Why do they need to watch?”

“To know any identifying mark, if I had to guess.” The deity sounded nonchalant. He saw her shrug in the corner of his eye. “You know how soldiers have dog tags? Just in case they can't identify the body?”

He nodded. There were no soldiers in the village or pagoda. Never had been. But there had been some in Four Dumpling Kingdoms. And he has seen Kala Namak Knights, or Silent Legion, whatever they were called now. He found the change of name useless.

The other Cookies just looked at him as if he was slightly insane. Mumbling and nodding to himself. 

“It would probably cost them too much to give dog tags to every prisoner. Checking dead bodies for any identifying marks is cheaper.”

Of course. Nothing but greed. Always the biggest driving force for Cookies. This place felt full of it. Just when he walked down many corridors to this room. The place felt harsh, the way their leader spoke with such pride. How empty hearted must this place be.

However, it also didn't matter who died here either way. The cycle would restart regardless. Their old self unimportant. But it was clearly not done out of principle. If it was, there would be no checking at all. All dead would be grouped together, possibly buried together, but with all respects kept. But they were checking. And because of that it gave a look of elimination process.

Scorching Sun observed him. How he still refused to move. The elemental sighed and moved in front of him. Ghee squinted his eyes. Her glowing halo was so bright it hurt his eyes even now. It reminded him of when he had aimed his arrow at her. When all he could see was a light so bright, it had been making him go blind.

He should have gone blind. The good aspect of being possessed by an elemental, whose domains (aside from obvious sun) were healing and destruction both, was the fact any injury would be healed perfectly. Returned to top notch health, albeit at the price of unimaginable pain.

“Here, now only I'm watching.”

“I don't like when you're watching.” This time less of a mumble. A more clear sentence.

“Ghee, sunshine. I've already seen you undressed plenty of times.”

Silence. After a few seconds the deity rolled her eyes and turned around. She understood not wanting some strangers to watch. But she had seen his body already. It was unavoidable with their predicament. She had seen the torn flesh and broken bones heal. Missing parts regenerate. And it simply was better for the clothes to be removed.

Scorching Sun didn't really understand the shame people carried regarding their bodies. Or why it varied across countries and cultures. Both among Cookies and their Creators. It was just a body. Be it dough or flesh. There was nothing explicit about it. It was just anatomy. Everything that lived had it.

That could be because body for elementals was nothing more than a mere vessel for their conscience. A means to interacts with mortal beings. She already existed on her own. Way up above. Shining day and night. But as just a star, she couldn’t do much. Couldn’t use the magic that she provided. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t watch closely, only from so far away, you didn’t even see anything. A body allowed for more control. For her, a being who had to gain the vessel, it would always be fundamentally different in comparison to beings, be it Cookies or Humans, who are born with their vessels. Never separate.

She heard him shuffle behind her. Slowly changing behind the table. But the moment all his upper clothing was gone, they told him to stop. The researcher looked disturbed. But they started taking notes anyway. Scorching Sun heard the table creak.

“Didn’t you guys say he had no scars?” The guard asked. Confused, and at unease.

“... it doesn’t look like a scar to me…”

Scorching Sun glanced behind her at Ghee. To see what could possibly cause such a commotion. She didn’t recall him to have any scar. Especially on his chest. Were they talking about her mark? Where she had a glowing wound on her chest, Ghee had a symbol of sun. A swirl with multiple lines representing rays. It was golden, slightly glowing. And yet it almost looked like a birth mark. Not a perfect shape like it would be required for a magic glyph or a written spell. It was a tad too long, and a tad too wide.

Ghee was staring at the ground. His hands gripping the table hard. She was not sure if he was fully mentally present or if he was dissociating already. He sometimes did that. His meditation often turned into that. Or maybe it didn't. It was sometimes hard to say when one was having glimpses into the other plane of existence, or when they were actively imagining things.

She could hear his thoughts. As it allowed them to communicate. When he was meditating or dissociating it was empty. A deafening silence. Only sometimes interrupted by ideas, images of valleys and mountains ever so peaceful. Of the sun shining bright and warm. Of the scent of peaches in the air.

Although, now that she thought about it. There was maybe one way to recognize where the delusion started. When he got to see other cookies. Especially when he got to hear them. As far as enlightenment went that was not possible for a mere Cookie to interact. One would have to be already a higher being to be able to interact with them and yet physically stay in this realm. And Ghee was not that. Deified by other cookies, but at the end of the day he was just one man that was unlucky enough to be born during the dusk of Virtue Era.

His head sounded empty now. If not today, he would start to dissociate this very week.

They allowed him to put on the new clothes without interrupting after that. They were quite simple. White cotton shirt, and bright orange button up T-shirt with a pair of pants of the same color. He got a tag. Not with a name, but with a number.

BY-FR 001

To Scorching Sun it was not only disrespectful but beyond offensive. To Ghee, it was somehow comforting. The elemental just side eyed him. Although she agreed with some principles of apathy and destruction, the erasure of one's self was something she couldn't comprehend. Not if it meant leaving absolutely nothing behind, not even a proof of existence.

She was a Sun. She couldn't be less than a Sun… but she could be more. The small black hole in her abdomen was a reminder. An attempt cut short, but not a total failure by any means. She could be more. Each element could be more. A soft wind could be a full blown hurricane that destroyed buildings, entire cities. The ever providing ocean could ruthlessly drown anyone who tried to traverse it. It was a home to countless creatures, a mother to beautiful, delicate, smart beings, and to vicious, violent monsters both. 

Stormbringer would probably agree with her on that front. At least to some degree. For she herself was just a lightning, but named herself an entire storm. Not just zap of electricity from above (regardless how devastating in nature). But the dark clouds that defeated light. The harsh wind that blows and blows. The unyielding rain that blocked the vision and made everyone freeze. And within that the bright flash, the deafening sound coming in late. Lighting. A thing that occurs for such a short moment, and yet was full of power. Rage and excitement all at once. Yes, she had the minor deities that aided her, but in the end Stormbringer was the one to call the shots in the sky.

One could only be more, not less. And yet here was Ghee. A man who was deified during his lifetime. If he had died, had she not taken him as a vessel, he would be worshipped. He had been worshipped, given how some Cookies and Dumplings had spoken of him or to him. Just to not such a high degree as it possibly could be. Residents of Flour Ridge found the worship of still living mortals strange. It was more normal to do it once the person finished their cycle. To elevate their soul, to make their next cycle holier, or give them a proper glory if they did become Immortal. 

The descendants of those who left the mountains before getting blessed by Mystic probably worshiped him still. Not knowing if he had died by now, or if he was still alive (and he clearly was). By now he surely deserved to be called Immortal, no? It was just a pity he had to be trapped in this realm. And yet here he stood. Fully content to be reduced to a few letters and a number. Truly, a picture perfect follower of Apathy. At least in theory.

His original clothes were taken away. None of the workers said whether it was to burn them, throw them away, or to just wash them. They put him in the chains again. He was shortly moved to a different room. Where he got his fingerprints taken. His mouth checked, to see if none of the teeth were fake or if none were missing. 

The issue came when there were some sorts of documents that were to be filled out. A few Cookies were arguing about how to get him to speak, how to get him to communicate and understand. The guard was observing Ghee with tired eyes. The archer on the other hand was eyeing the sheets of paper that were left on a table along with… pencil? Something similar. 

“That's a pen.” Scorching Sun told him shortly. “And I think we need to drop pretending we don't understand common language. It was funny, though.” She chuckled a bit.

It had been Scorching Sun's idea for him to pretend. Mostly to just annoy the hell out of the employees and Neo-Beast as well. To see them struggle with such basic things as communication. Ghee simply decided to comply, although not out of any malicious intent of his own. He just found no use in talking with others earlier. He could speak common but what use did it have, when everyone had their hearts closed? They wouldn't listen to him if he spoke the same language. They didn't listen to others, they just followed given commands. Talking was meaningless. A waste of time.

He still needed to fill up the documents, though. So he grabbed a pen and slowly started to answer the questions. It was a bit hard. Not because the document required too specific things, but holding a pen was uncomfortable. He was more used to holding a calligraphy brush. So now his writing looked way more shaky than usual. The bullet in his shoulder didn’t help either. Still, he didn’t care as long as it was readable.

The guard just stared at him confused. But they didn’t stop him nor did they inform others of what he was doing. Clearly wasn’t paid enough. Those three just kept on yelling at one another. 

Some questions were very easy to fill up.

Name? Ghee Cookie 酥油餅乾.

Age? 20 (or at least at this age he was stuck. He stopped counting the passing years a long time ago.)

Occupation? Huntsman.

Marital status? Married. 

Scorching Sun's halo dimmed a bit, but she didn’t correct him. She had stopped long ago. That was a topic that could at times make him forget the teachings of apathy. He was not a picture perfect follower. He knew that. He doubted there was one. But he tried his best to not give into the urge of anger, to not get overly defensive. Not anymore.

Nationality was filled in beforehand it seemed. It checked out, given he got his number immediately. Although in his opinion the letters should be dropped as well. They should just count all the prisoners one by one.

He noticed how Scorching Sun was staring at him. Slightly offended by his thoughts. He simply moved to the next question. They were getting harder as they went. Well maybe not harder, but the answer could be complicated. At some points the elemental had to help him put things in words.

When there was a question regarding the criminal history, he was not sure whether it was about all of it or just the documented ones. Scorching Sun told him to leave it empty. Because he was not breaking any laws when he had been eliminating the ships (although one could argue that law no more functioned in Flour Ridge. At least not how it used to). Shooting an elemental was apparently considered a public service, so that didn't fit the criteria. And he was never held accountable for the murder with premeditation.

Ghee left that space empty. Stopping concerning himself with it about halfway through the goddess’ explanations. It didn’t really matter in the long run. 

Once he filled everything up he simply walked up to the arguing bunch. He tapped one on the shoulder. Didn't do anything. They just swapped his hand away. The guard rolled their eyes at this. They moved from their place, and forcefully turned the other person around.

The Cookie was taken off guard. Ghee without words handed them the document. They looked confused, and then looked down at the sheet of paper. They looked both defeated and annoyed.

Another one glanced over their shoulder. “You understand the common language?”

“Yes.” Ghee’s accent was heavy. In Flourian the emphasis was usually on the last syllable or letter of the word. And even in such a short confirmation it was still present. 

They just gave him a blank stare for a moment. “I hate you,” they declared. With a voice of someone who was not paid enough for any of this.

Ghee just shrugged in response.

-----

He was led by two guards down the corridor. Passing by multiple of the cells. They were placed in such a manner that one cell was not immediately facing another. Probably to limit conversations between the prisoners. In each cell there were three people max. Usually of the same gender per cell, but it happened some were mixed.

All the other occupants were dressed in the same clothes as him. Orange shirt and pants. Only a tag with numbers and letters to differentiate them. Many of them seemed to be of a better built. Like some of the soldiers from Spice Swarm or from Silent Legion. But there were some of a more slim slim silhouettes, some more fragile looking. They looked all sorts of ways, but there were repeating traits among many prisoners. Looks like many of them were from the same regions.

He was stopped next to one of the cells. Where there were only two people. One would make a good soldier, and clearly was through some fights, based on the scar on her eye. Like many other Cookies her skin was darker but more on an orange side. Possibly due to the amount of spice in her dough if he had to guess. Or because of any other ingredients that affected a color. The other person however looked way too frail. They were sitting by the wall. Their long brown dreded hair obscured their face.

One of the guards opened the cell door with a key. The other was removing Ghee’s chains. The sound of both actions got the other inmates attention. Once the archer was free he was harshly shoved inside the room. The action was so fast and sudden that he hit the ground. There was a sharp pain in his shoulder. The doors were locked behind him with a rattling of bars and a click of a lock.

“Oh look, you got roommates. How lovely.” The deity commented drily. Combined with pain from a bullet it made him flinch more than normally. 

Just as Scorching Sun said that one of the Cookies walked up to him. The one with orange skin, and messy hair. She extended a hand to help him up. Ghee glanced at it for a moment before taking the help. With one swift movement she pulled him up to his feet.

“Huh… you got number one… has Dragonberry conquered new land?” The woman asked as she looked at his tag.

Ghee glanced at her tag. It was on a white T-shirt, since the orange shirt she wore wrapped around her waist. Apparently they were there as well, and he just hadn't paid attention to it. Her number read ‘C-DV 187’. He had no clue what the letters meant.

“Probably ‘Crispia, Dragon Valley’. That's where we are right now. In some city that's in the region's land.” The Elemental explained to him.

“Thank you.” It was said to Scorching Sun. However, the other Cookie thought he was speaking to her.

“Hah, no problem!” She said with so much joy it was almost jarring. Useless excitement. “But… seriously, where are you from? I don't recognize the letters…”

“Please, say she didn't defeat another kingdom or country…” The other cookie, the frail one, spoke up. Ghee couldn’t see their number from this angle. 

“Beast-Yeast, Flour Ridge.” He answered shortly. “I don't think she'll be taking it over any time soon.”

If Ghee wasn't shooting down the ships, that would mean they would make it to the shore. Still they would have to go through the fog, and so most of them probably wouldn't make it halfway up the stairs. And those who would – Cloud Haetae would possibly tear down their guard, and Lamian Dragon would probably take care of them at the end. After all, one comes to Flour Ridge to peacefully depart from this world. Dragon would fulfill their duty as Ivory Lady’s self-proclaimed helping hand.

In the worst case scenario the old lizard could fight. Although that had to be an absolutely awful scenario… or Lamian had to simply fail and give into their draconic urges. The latter would be quite disappointing but possible. They already have shown impatience by using the flaming pearl. How pitiful. However, not fully unexpected. Dragons were sapient creatures. Capable of shapeshifting, of learning, of speaking in common, of magic. At the end of the day, they were still closer to animals. Their natural form was a dragon one, not the oversized Cookie-like form that kept their tails and horns, nor the form that actually made them blend in with Cookie kind. It was no surprise that beings so closely tied to nature would have trouble going fully against it. But it wasn’t impossible by all means.

“Thank Witches…” the frail one said. A sliver of relief in their voice. 

“Well… I think we should introduce ourselves!” The woman clapped her hands. “I'm Burnt Sausage Cookie!” She pointed at herself. Then she gestured to the other one. “And this pessimistic fella is Rolled Wafer Cookie.”

“I'm a realist,” they corrected. A glimmer of bite in their tone but it was barely anything. A person who was already broken down, yet clinging to something that remained. 

The two of them looked at him. And for a moment it was disappointing that they wouldn't refer to him by simply a number. Something suddenly burned in his head. He was certain that Scorching was slowly getting fed up with him today. It happened every so often. 

“Ghee Cookie…” He looked Rolled Wafer up and down. “Why are you here?” He finally asked, his tone lacking any emotion as usual.

They sighed as they changed their sitting position. Now he could see their number. ‘C-DV 235’. There were a lot of people in the place… or had been. He doubted everyone was still alive.

“Short story long, in an act of defiance against Dragonberry I've burnt down a library.”

There was a loud silence for a moment. There had been no pride in their voice. It sounded like they offhandedly just mentioned an event. Little to no importance. 

“Why?” The archer asked after a moment. 

They opened and closed their mouth for a moment. Trying to find the correct words. 

“She overtook the city? And the whole dragon research thing?” They stated simply. Like it was the most obvious thing under the sun. Like it was a sufficient enough explanation. When Ghee just tilted his head, they asked confused: “Do you know anything about a Dragonberry?”

He just shrugged and shook his head. He didn't know much about her. For some reason she wanted to hunt down Lamian Dragon Cookie, which was stupid because that old fossil was barely worth a bowl of rice (Lamian's words, not his). Eternal Sugar had already put her claim on her, so enlightening her was off limits (for now). He was unsure to what level the damage was allowed. He knew that she was weak of heart like all the people she's been sending. Greedy, prideful. How pitiful. And apparently she has also claimed other's land as hers, which he was just told.

Honestly, nothing special. There had been dozens like her throughout history. The only thing that set her apart was that she was an owner of the souljam. Which was probably the only reason why Lady of the Gardens even bothered to learn about her. He had no clue why she would want the woman, though. Perhaps like Ivory Lady, she simply had kindness to spare, despite the inherent cruelty of the world? He doubted that to be the case. She wasn't that altruistic. Eternal Sugar was known to be possessive of those she held dear, even more than of those who simply entered or were invited to her paradise. 

Burnt Sausage put her hands on her hips. She whistled in surprise. Though there seemed to be a bit of worry. At how uninformed he apparently was.

“Do you know where we are?” She asked.

“Dragon's Valley, Crispia.” He just learnt that from Scorching Sun. But he had no geographical knowledge of this continent. So the name didn't really help him much.

“Eh, close enough…” She did a so-so motion. “We're in Dragon City. We were kinda known for our knowledge about dragons and draconic creatures.”

“And I worked at the library, I had access to all the books and scrolls, even wrote a few of them…” Rolled Wafer said. They sounded almost nostalgic. Almost. There was some bitterness there. “Queen Mother was someone Dragon City could trust back in the day…”

“Ah, a scholar then. Those are people one usually doesn't want to cross.” Scorching Sun commented. 

Ghee partially agreed with that statement. The best example was the Jester from the Spire. He had changed but his cycle didn't finish; he was still a scholar. However whether one wanted to cross any scholar depended if one simply cared for the consequences. Or if one even realized them.

“You took away the resources she required. Whatever was or is her goal.” Ghee summed up.

Rolled Wafer looked away. “After a year I've decided it was the best for all citizens if she simply had no access to the knowledge.”

“It took them a year to reach that conclusion?” Scorching Sun acted offended. Like it was absolutely scandalous. That they were this slow-thinking.

“A year?” Ghee asked shortly in the goddess' name. He just lacked the emotions she had.

“Listen, I don't like to act rash.” They defended themselves. (Ghee heard Sun yell ‘boring’ in the back of his head, he winced.) “I just rather see what she was doing with this colosseum, hear the orders she was giving out, what information she was requesting from scholars and scientist… and act based on that. Citizens don't have the information now, and neither does she. She gotta now slow down, and make decisions if she wants progress in research or in territory. She can't be in two places at once.” They concluded.

“And she already has to be here at least once in two months… she clearly gets a kick out of it, though.” Burnt Sausage added bitterly. She crossed her arms against her chest and leaned against a wall.

“Why must it be every two months?” Ghee asked.

“Oh, she fights a messed up replica of a Greenish-Red Dragon.”

“She what.”

-----

To say Cosmopolitan already was starting to dislike his new job would be an understatement. For a moment an intrusive thought entered his mind to go outside and shoot himself with his own rifle. He didn’t discard that idea, but he didn’t entertain it either. He just let it fester in the back of his mind. 

There were dozens upon dozens of wild animals in cages. Some he knew himself like butter tigers, or giant berry spiders. Those were common in the Hollyberry Kingdom's jungles. There were many creatures from Dragon Valley's as well. Lizard-like in nature but not draconic. Simply mimicking to scare other predators. There were monsters from other lands as well, he didn't know those. Only somewhat being able to categorize them. Some kind of overgrown cake wolves. Some jackals from the desert. Some beings were made out of stone, they resembled golems.

Of course, cages on their own wouldn’t be able to hold down those beings. There were magic spells engraved into the bars. Assuring additional safety. There were two ways to open the cage. From the side of the corridor, the one Cosmopolitan walked now, and from the side of the arena. To let those beasts out right away into the fight. And to easily get them back inside once the show was done.

Thank Witches, Baeckeoffe Cookie wasn’t that much of a serious individual. Because if he had to put up an act of a perfect employee straight away, Cosmo would actually consider the intrusive idea. Too bad, shooting one self with a rifle is quite hard. Well maybe not hard, but it’s just inconvenient. Would have to point the barrel of the gun at the bottom of his jaw. A pistol would be better. Would be able to hold it with just one hand. 

“These are Magma Lizards. They’re moody assholes. Just stay away from them. To deal with them special gear is needed.”

Cosmopolitan glanced to the side. Looking at the mentioned creatures. They were the size of a bigger dog. Their scales dark. But their eyes were glowing red and gold. Saliva from their snouts was the same. Although he was almost certain that was close to becoming a lava. Their heads looked sturdy, built for pushing and blocking. He quickly counted all the lizards.

“There’s not many of them,” he noted.

There were at least two or sometimes even three cages for each kind of creature. At least ten per cell, sometimes racking up to almost twenty. He assumed it depended on how social each animal was. Tigers were more solitary ones, so there couldn’t be too many of them in one cage. But there was only one cage for Magma Lizards. There were only four of them.

“They’re closely related to draconics.”

Cosmo just raised one of his eyebrows at that. He knew they were related to draconics. That’s why their skin was overpriced half of the time. Because it was easy to fake as one of wyvern, but the scales weren’t acid proof. They were highly fire proof, though. Still, didn’t explain why there were only four Magma Lizards. They were not even territorial, they were very social creatures actually. 

“Ah, dang it, right. You’re Hollyberian.”

“What does my nationality have to do with this?”

“Listen, brother. Nothing against you… specifically. But you guys are kinda uh… either you guys act like you better than us all, or you have no idea what is happening…” The man leaned onto their giant, sharpened casserole spoon. “And like… you get the position of animal tamer off the bat. Which on one hand is very important cuz we often have to deal with scientists… on the other you do half of the stuff you’re not supposed to because we're short staffed…” They waved their hand dismissively.

Of course the colosseum was short staffed. Half of the people were either employed as soldiers or as sailors as of late, to his knowledge. And apparently if you were difficult in the colosseum, you were just forcefully removed if what he was told was true. From experience Cosmopolitan could already say that being a soldier was probably a preferred option. At least there you got mercy of a fast death. 

Adding to that, normally Cosmo would find it offensive that Baeckeoffe thought he got his position either because of his nationality or status as a noble. Mind you, as an aristocrat he shouldn't even be walking down this corridor, especially not as a worker. The only pleasure of being here was that according to the contract, if he were to mess up, only he would be held accountable. His House, his family wouldn't be dragged through mud due to his possible shortcomings. 

But it wasn't normal. He was tired, he had been on the sea for two months. With a bunch of people he hadn't known or liked. He was still ill. His throat felt dry. So a big part of him couldn't really care less about any possible insinuations or bias of his now co-worker. His mind was forcefully putting that aside, and only filtering objectively important information.

And so far, he was barely told anything important.

“Sir, may you, please, explain what you mean?” He felt dust in his throat.

“Damn, you’re really in the unknown, huh?”

“My family has a reputation for opposing the royal family. We tend to not get ourselves involved in whatever they're doing, and if we do, we’re rarely a support.”

“Oh, you're from Cranberry House!” Baeckeoffe clapped their hands in enthusiasm. “You guys make great wine. Especially from local spice cranberries.”

Good Witches, where was this conversation even going? He was tired, he felt lightheaded and cold at tad… he had fever again didn't he? He stayed without medication for too long…

“Glad to hear that our products are enjoyed outside of our homeland.” Cosmopolitan said with a well practiced smile. Although his tone was quite tired. That one he couldn't help for now. “But returning to the topic at hand…”

“Ah, right, right. Scientists, right.” They rubbed the back of their neck. They cleared their throat. “As far as I've been told… because of ‘recent’ and unexpected events, there has been an initiative for excessive research regarding all draconic creatures, their evolution and all of magic that could apply to their kind.” They sounded as if they were quoting. Or more like mocking somebody specific.

Cosmopolitan tilted his head to the side trying to recall any important events. Anything about dragons in the last few years. In Dragon Valley or Dragon City. He doubted Hollyberian political discourse had anything specifically to do with it this time around. The closest thing he could remember was when Hollyberry stopped the Giant Red Dragon attacks at the city. But that was long ago. Way before she established herself as a queen again.

“But hasn't the Red Dragon been slayed?”

“I mean… the original one was… not the Greenish Red Dragon, of course.”

Of course not Pitaya Dragon. That usurper was missing and there was a price for them. A price was for them alive. If that lizard died Dragonberry would be enraged. 

“So it’s… a copy of a copy?”

How such information didn't make it to the Hollyberry Kingdom? Journalists would have their hands on it in a blink of an eye. Though, there had been huge control before he was allowed to enter the city, even at the port. Or more like there probably would be, if he wasn’t Hollyberian. When shown his passport and id, they just allowed him to pass through. The researcher that was now in charge of that archer had been checked thoroughly. Either an actual citizen of the city, or they were from somewhere else entirely. Cosmo didn’t really bother to learn their name throughout the trip. They didn’t really talk much, he didn’t want to talk. 

Baeckeoffe simply motioned with his hand to follow him. Further down the corridor. And so Cosmopolitan did. The older man every so often used his weapon to hit the bars of cages that contained more rowdy animals. The echoing sound made them disoriented and stopped infighting. Loud noise always got the attention.

After several more minutes they got to the door. Or more like to the gate, perhaps. It was as big as the entire corridor. There was a small door in there. Just for cookies. Both the gates and the door were all locked up. One with multiple beams, almost as thick as trunks of trees. The smaller door didn't seem to have any specific lock. Probably it was on the other side. Or maybe Cosmo just couldn't notice it, the surroundings seemed a bit hazy.

“We're not allowed to get inside, only scientists and Queen Dragonberry. If we have an issue of absolute importance, you knock and pray they won't tell you off.” A short pause. ”This applies to any deliveries labeled for Yewberry Pie Cookie. They’re not always there, but better to go and check.”

There was a sound. Something like a huff. Big and drawn out. From the other side of the door. Cosmo and Baeckeoffe instinctively took a step back.

For a short moment curiosity overtook the noble man. His fever was still present, but it lessened. Or maybe it just became easier to ignore. He still couldn't feel the fingers in his hand. It didn't matter. What mattered is how that creature appeared.

When Dragon City was being terrorized by the Red Dragon the news was everywhere. In the newspaper, people were gossiping all around. How the awful usurper was probably taking its anger out on poor cookies. The situation had been going for a while for it to reach Hollyberry Kingdom.

But this? There was nothing about it. Never heard of it. Which meant it had to happen quite fast, and possibly not long after Dragonberry had taken over Dragon City. She had to be around, for the situation to be over almost as soon as it started. To actually decide what information makes it to Hollyberry Kingdom and what doesn't.

He turned his head around to ask Baeckeoffe a question. If he knew anything about what had happened. But just as he opened his mouth, it was as if he was hit by a wave. He started to cough. Harshly. It made him curl up on himself. His rifle fell to the ground. The sound echoed around.

Baeckeoffe dropped their spoon to support him. As if he was about to drop… it could be a possibility. Like through a fog he remembered being sick at Cranberry Mansion. How it had hurt to move. How one day he would feel better only on the next day to have a dangerously high fever. It didn't hurt yet. But he felt both cold and hot. Like he was about to suffocate in his clothes, but if he was to take off even a coat he would freeze.

“Hey! Watch out, are you okay?”

Baeckeoffe carefully moved him towards the wall, and carefully helped him sit down on the floor. Good ground, cold… not good. Too cold. The bigger Cookie stood next to him, but kept their distance. Unsure if they should be this close.

“Got any doctor?” Cosmo asked in-between coughs. After a minute of fighting for a breath. He felt as if he had breathed in dust on something. His eyes were watering, as he tried to cough out whatever was stuck in his throat.

Which was flour. It was always flour.

“... Depends if you want them to report to someone…” they said unsurely.

Instinctively Cosmo shook his head no. Something deep in him was unable to decide if he didn't want too many people to know his state, or if he didn't want to bother too many people. He just wanted to go back to bed. He didn’t need a letter to be sent out to his family, that he’s running a fever again.

“... Then our best option is church.”

-----

The walk to the church was mostly hazy. He knows Baeckeoffe rushed them both. Only yelled something to one of the other employees. He was given a scarf to cover up his mouth. As to not infect anyone else, and probably to not be heard so much when he was coughing. Not even a first day in a job, and Cosmopolitan already had to use sick leave. Off to a great start.

They led him through the less attended alleys of the city. Probably to not be spotted by guards and accidentally getting questioned.  On one hand it was good. It was quieter there. The noise wouldn't give him a headache. But it was darker and dirtier. He didn't like the smell there. It made his body fully shiver in disgust.

Baeckeoffe Cookie had to help him walk. Not that Cosmo couldn't walk on his own, but he was slower like that. So they supported him with one arm and in the other hand they carried his gun. They left their own weapon at the colosseum.

It took them several longer minutes to get to church. Well, not even to the church itself but one to the buildings that seemed to belong to it. His mind was too foggy to remember the proper name now.

There were two people there. One in a white robe and the other in a black. But both of their clothes had red shades to them, with a bit of gold here and there. After a longer moment he noticed that they both had a symbol of a fork in their uniforms. 

The nun in white robe was cleaning the window. The sound of it, regardless how subtle, made Cosmo’s ears bleed. The one who spotted them first was a friar in dark clothes. He had been reading something, he sighed and closed the book loudly. As if wanting to make his annoyance clear as day.

The man had brown almost ginger hair with plenty of white highlights. But that seemed to be natural, not because of age. There were some nut toppings on top of his head. His octagon shaped glasses reflected the light. He eyed the two of them.

“How bad?”

Short. Straight away to the point, already guessing the situation. One would wonder how often this happened.

“I’m not sure… but I have to rush back to the colosseum, he was supposed to have a patrol around the gladiators’ cells. I have to cover that for him.”

Wait, he was supposed to? That was not in his job description as far as he could remember. But Baeckeoffe mentioned the colosseum being short staffed. Witches above, he’d rather be doing business meetings with Raspberry as the representative of her House.

The friar mumbled something under his breath and held himself back from rolling his eyes. The nun opened the door, while he helped to move Cosmo inside the building. It turned out to be the living quarters along with the infirmary. It was a very modest place. There seemed to be mostly only essentials… and it seemed to be designed for a bigger group of people. The place had signs of people living there, of course. The chairs were a bit out of place. The dust was not everywhere. But it was dusty. Still a lot of cleaning to do.

Once he was finally in infirmary, somewhere within the corner of his eye Cosmo noticed Baeckeoffe staying behind. The nun talked to them. He didn't get to hear what they were saying, as the friar closed the door, after helping him sit down on bed.

“What’s the issue?” The man asked. Tilting his head to the side, hands folded behind his back. “We understand not trusting doctors to not report to higher ups, but we need to know the symptoms.”

Cosmopolitan kept on the scarf he had been given. He looked down at his gloved hands. He moved the fingers he couldn’t feel. It was so strange to see them move, while not even feeling the texture of the glove. Because of that he was too aware of the other glove.

“Are you allowed to not report back?” Cosmo asked unsurely. It was weird that doctors did that in general. Was there an outbreak or something that they had to keep a track of numbers?

“By law of both Dragon Valley and Hollyberry Kingdom, any religious organization is an entirely separate entity. We do not get funding from any ruling party, we simply pay tax for the land owned. We abide by the current laws, and there isn’t one that forces us to report on others. We do keep track of the changes Queen Dragoberry enforces on this land.” The friar answered shortly. Speaking in a way that was very familiar to Cosmo. Practiced speeches, the man either was of higher status or had worked in the past with aristocrats. “Additionally, we find the idea of telling on other Cookies rather sinful. It creates mistrust and paranoia. Cookies should feel safe to speak about their issues, be it physical, social or mental.”

Cosmopolitan felt… strange. His sickness aside, the friar in front of him wasn’t mean. Not at all. Just one of many people who were more strict. Maybe slightly annoyed, but not mean. But there was just something off. Still, Cosmo slowly took off one glove. The one on his left hand.

The friar stared with his eyes wide. He inhaled sharply. Cosmopolitan however didn’t have much of a reaction. The fingers were fully white. He couldn’t feel them. He curled them up, and bits of dust started to fall off with each movement. But the body stayed intact.

He probably should be more horrified by the sight. But he wasn't. Now that he actually saw what happened he had no reaction at all.

The other man moved towards the glass cabinet. Full of various jars and vials. He took some of them down, and put them next to the table. Then he paused when he was about to take another object. Hesitation.

“Is there more sugar or more salt in your dough?”

“Sugar.”

“Sugar it is.”

There was a lot of alcohol in his ingredients. But all of it was sweetened up. Liqueur was already sweet on its own but with sweet oranges and cranberry juice? If it wasn’t for lime juice and vodka, his dough would be overly sugary. 

He watched how the friar took the jar on the left instead of the one on the right.

“The main ingredient?” He asked as he took out some tools from the other cabinets around. It looked like laboratory equipment. Some strange shaped flasks, and what not.

“Cranberries.”

The friar lightly hit one of the cabinets in frustration. “Sister Pastry, will be annoyed…” They mumbled under their breath.

They didn’t have cranberries. He would have to ask sister Straciattella to go and buy a lot of them. And sister Pastry won’t be mad at such a simple thing, but she would definitely be to some level displeased. 

“May I ask what you wish to prepare?” Cosmopolitan asked, coughing shortly after. The scarf muffled him a bit. 

“Your body is basically turning into flour.” He stated simply. He waited for some reaction but he got only a blank stare in response. He continued. “Which can only be attributed to your flavor cells getting rewritten. For some reason they lost information about your ingredients. But they cannot have no flavor, so they start to copy the ingredient that you have the most. Which is flour as it is every cookies’ base. Sugar and salt both intensify the flavor. The point is to create medicine that will strengthen your flavor. Therefore while your dominant ingredient will always be flour, it will copy the other ones. Because they’ll appear to have a stronger presence.”

“You’re quite knowledgeable about illness…”

“Sir, with all due respect, but I did have a life before joining the order. More importantly I have a PHD in infectious diseases. The pale ailment seems to be similar to cinnamon plague, albeit way more potent and drastic in how it develops. If you doubt my services I can present my certificate, although the members of the order should not boast about their achievements.”

Cosmopolitan just stared at him blankly for what felt like several minutes. “How much will it cost?” He finally asked.

“It doesn’t cost anything.”

“... it doesn’t?”

“We’re not allowed to charge for our services. The only time we gather any money is during a mass and it has to go towards any work regarding the church building. Since it is used by everyone. Members, worshipers and visitors alike.”

“... how… how do you even function if you have no funds?”

“We work based on donations. We do not charge for the services. But if someone is to donate us something, be it money, clothing or food, or ingredients for medicine we can accept it. Although the ingredients we mostly grow by ourselves.”

“Is… is that because of the dogma or because of occupancy specifically?”

The friar made a ‘so-so’ motion with his hand. Not much of an explanation.

“You will have to wait a while… I need to send out a sister to buy ingredients. And preparing medicine that will last you for a week will take up to two hours. For now I can give you some paracetamol to lower your fever.”

“... I apologize for the sudden trouble. Next time the needed ingredients will be provided beforehand.”

The friar smiled at that then. A soft smile. It was kind. It was lovely. Cosmopolitan felt uneasy.

“That would be greatly appreciated. If it's not much of an issue, we would advise to bring things after or before a mass.”

After giving the noble required medicine the friar left the room for a moment. To tell sister Stracciatella to buy needed ingredients, and perhaps more food if she was able. However as he made it to the common room he stopped abruptly. Seeing the pale Cookie with bits of chocolate in her dough and icing speak with Pastry. The shadow sister looked at him immediately when he entered.

She wore clothes similar to his, aside for the veil and additional laces. The same dark colors with a bit of red and gold. Not purple like in her previous church. This was not a Republic, nor anywhere remotely close. That was on the other continent. And they were in Crispia, in a Dragon’s Valley. Of course the colors would be different. Even the fabric of their clothes was different. Thicker, heavier. Made from flax and obsidianites. Quite expensive fabric, but needed in such environment. It allowed them to cover their entire bodies and protect them from fire or acidic hazards (and with so many draconic creatures around it was too common) without overheating. Sister Stracciatella’s robes were made out of the same material, but bleached heavily to not be of black color.

“That man is of a noble house.” Sister Pastry started. She didn't sound angry, or mad. Just tired.

Nobody could blame her for it. There were only three of them here. Him, Stracciatella and her. Three people running an entire place that should have at least ten people taking care of it. And they definitely needed more people, especially given the church building in Dragon City has been previously abandoned for at least ten years. Lack of worshippers, a whole lot of stubborn agnostics or elementalists. Believing in the fire… how pagan.

“The other worker from the colosseum said he’s from Cranberry House. He has a villa on the outskirts. It’s better to have important people on our side.” Stracciatella chimed in. Although her tone was more of a whisper.

“Plus it’s not like we can’t just say no. We are obligated to help him by our oath to the Order. We are to show kindness to those who suffer. I am not letting him go without proper medicine.”

Pastry Cookie tensed up a bit. She eyed him for a moment. “Do you doubt my loyalty to duty, brother Medovik Cookie?” Her voice was stern. But there was a hint of surprise, of anxiousness.

He straightened up. He corrected his glasses before folding his hands behind him. “No, sister Pastry. I simply would like to point out, you might worry too much. Regardless of his position or status, I doubt Dragonberry would be bothered by our presence or his involvement with us. We're the least of her concerns.”

Dragonberry had an entire kingdom of her own to run. In the city there were posters of her missing granddaughter and a dragon. She had to keep Dragon City under control. And had to keep that abomination of a replica in one place. The three of them had seen it twice. Once when it had risen, because Pastry had recognized the half-cake Cookie in disguise and had been adamant about following him and the rest of his group. The second time had been in the colosseum, to see what had been done about it, and get a clearer glimpse about how souljams functioned.

It had been awfully spent 60 silver scales. 20 silver scales per person was an outrageous price, first of. Robbery in broad daylight. At least there had been proper safety measures taken to ensure, the freak of nature wouldn't fly off. During the show Pastry had spotted some pomegranate gems. Had said she recognized them from one of her previous missions. Didn’t elaborate further. They also got to see how the souljam worked. It seemed to function just fine, whenever a weapon made contact with Neo-Beast’s shield some fragments of light showed around, as if its power activated. But the gem itself severely lacked the shine that was brought up countless times in legends and historical texts. It definitely was a souljam on that shield, that was unmistakable, but it looked like a cheap stone if anything.

“I understand you’re shaken by your previous mission and seeing - I assume - the previous perpetrator didn’t help…” Medovik said carefully. He and sister Stracciatella had been informed of sister Pastry’s occasional doubts from her previous mission (details were left unspecified). Still, she’s been a member of the Order for longer than him, and was granted the dark robes as well. The loyalty had to be there. “But all three of us are not only a religious minority, but also immigrants. We both are from Candystick Archipelago, and sister Stracciatella is Cacaonian. I think the rebels in town are more of an issue to her than us.”

Pastry Cookie bit the inside of her cheek. Too many things had been happening lately, and her robes felt really heavy today. She had had trouble getting out of the bed again. She simply would like to take things slow. Have time to think. To sort out her own things… and as selfish and sinful as it was taking vows did help in a way. Her loyalty was assured, for it was true! It was really true… Cookies were many things… and so were their Godly Creators. Easy as that. No need to think about it too much.

The Reverend Mother had stopped dotting on her, with worry and suspicion. Instead she had greeted her one day with a proposition of the highest honor. An offer to join the main cathedral, one where a High Forkbearer resided.

She had declined. Too big of a jump. Too sudden. Too important. Too much. She had asked to help out somewhere else, where the faith would be needed with such strange changes happening in the world. Dragon City had sounded so nice. A duty to fix a church, a few other members that she wouldn’t know much, and they wouldn’t know her. Perfect, slow. A chance to start anew, to think everything through. And also to carefully guide citizens, to offer them help in need, when a Neo-Beast had been at their door step. A chance to give them a bit of hope (because all the creators couldn’t… no they couldn’t. There are good and bad spirits of the fallen… the same had to be with Gods, no? Yes, surely…)

But of course, when she had finally started to feel at ease, not only does Neo-Beast successfully take over the place. Merely a few days later he shows up again. With the same woman and her damn mirror, and a few others, and… and raises sin against a creation itself (not a cake. Cakes were… cakes were tolerable… not fully sinful… just in a grayzone… yes, that felt right. Neither pure or sinful. Yes…). There had been something wrong with him, though… she didn’t recall him having spirals in his eyes.

It just… it just had been a lot, a few past years. Especially given their directive regarding souljams had changed. Don’t have to get it back, just need a fraction of its energy (which honestly made things somehow worse). At last they didn’t have to involve themselves with the tyrant directly. So suddenly not only an employee of the colosseum showing up, but Straciattella telling her he’s of noble house? That did put her on edge. “Permission to speak?” The younger sister asked her unsurely. Her eyes locked on the floor.

“... Sister Stracciatella, you may always speak freely.”

“We do not need him to support us openly. He has to simply have a good opinion of us. Hollyberrians seem to value their families a lot… if he thinks well of us, the sentiment will be shared by his family.”

Pastry tapped the back of her heel a bit. That was a fair point. They can’t just force themselves on others, that creates distrust. And they still needed to help him, because he was ill. Lately there have been a lot of ill Cookies. Many colds and cinnamon fevers. Medovik had said it was simply the season, it should pass. He had become more concerned since the news of a few Cookies getting more and more pale.

“Had he proposed supplying us?” Pastry asked. To know how many shopping errands they should account for in the future.

“He did. But for this one, we do need to buy a few kilograms of cranberries… and more sugar and salt. We still have some but we’re slowly running out of it…” He seemed to be ashamed of that.

Pastry didn’t really understand why exactly that would be a reason to be ashamed. He was using their food and ingredients, but that was strictly for medicine. And citizens simply required a lot of it lately. That was not a sin to help.