Miasmora & Wisric's Grand Meridellian Misadventure

     She wasn't sure why she was the one who had to Kiss the Mortogs, but he certainly wasn't going to do it.

     And the plan did make sense--uncurse a prince, convince him to escort them into the Royal Wing of Meridell Castle, and find the ghost of the ancient princess there who probably still remembered Old Meridellian, and could translate the key on the Old Paper they'd found in the Rubbish Dump earlier that day.

     "What if she only knows Old Meridellian and doesn't understand a single thing we say?" the Swamp Gas Skeith asked.

     "Then this is going to be a bad day," Wisric replied as the two of them passed back over the castle's reeking moat. "Worse for you than for me, at least."

     She could. Not. Stand. This Ixi. For a few minutes while they'd been in that deep, dark, ancient stairwell beneath the castle, she'd thought maybe Wisric had a redeeming quality or two. Maybe a surprise beneath that rough, aloof exterior that could make him tolerable. But that must have been the fear talking, because now they were in the light of day again-- with Crokabeks cawing in the trees nearby, sun shining in a perfectly blue sky, Neopets passing on errands of all sorts--she was absolutely certain that had been the fear talking.

     The Kiss the Mortog sign came into view, and a moment later, the Grundo who ran the game, with his smiling crown.

     Miasmora shivered.

     "You're the one who's good at talking," Wisric said as he pulled coins from his belt pouch. "And they'll be more inclined to help the Neopet who uncursed them. That's why you have to do it."

     Miasmora looked at him. She-- She hadn't expected him to have a good reason for making her do this, and was that-- Was that an admission that he wasn't particularly good at talking to people?

     Maybe she was still feeling the residual effects of their encounter with that Grarrl (if it had been a Grarrl at all) beneath the castle.

     "It should take two tries, on average," Wisric said, counting out a hundred coins and passing them to her.

     ***

     It took six tries, and by the time a shaken and confused Royal Gelert stood in front of them, Wisric's purse was nearly empty. He'd retreated to the edge of the pond, and was watching from a distance as Misamora muddled her way through a rough explanation of what they needed.

     "Since we-- I freed you from the curse," she added.

     The Gelert, who was starting to regain his bearings it seemed, gave her a quizzical look. "Was the reward this fine Grundo offered not sufficient?"

     "Well, you see--he charged us 300 Neopoints to try to find you, and the reward was only 100 Neopoints. So you see, you're a little in our debt. But no worries! If you could just do this tiny little favour for us, we'd be happy to consider everything even."

     "He-- He charged you to--" The Gelert shook himself. "What year is it?"

     "Year 27."

     He sighed with relief. "Excellent. Okay, well. The air smells so strange, and you look so strange--what colour are you? I don't think I've ever seen such an umm.. striking Neopet before." He wrinkled his nose.

     Miasmora sighed too, but not with relief. "Swamp Gas," she said.

     "Swamp Gas. That's-- That's new and interesting."

     "It's not new."

     The Royal Gelert looked for a moment as if he were going to argue with her, but then abruptly changed the subject. "I suppose I could accompany you to this Meridell Castle you speak of. Afterwards, could you point me in the direction of the Great Cliffs? My castle lies that way."

     "The what?" Miasmora asked.

     "The Great Cliffs," the Gelert repeated. They're to the east of the Lightning Swamp, between--"

     "Oh no," Miasmora heard Wisric close behind her.

      Miasmora turned to see Wisric approaching them, his mouth moving, but no words coming out. He grabbed Miasmora's arm, and gestured away from the Gelert prince.

     "Just a second, my friend has something he wants to tell me, hang on," Miasmora muttered to the Gelert as she was pulled away.

     They retreated a few steps away, and Wisric whispered, "The Lightning Swamp doesn't exist anymore."

     "What?"

     Wisric cringed. "Keep your voice down. Listen. Have you ever heard of the Brain Tree in the Haunted Woods? He asks for information about ancient Neopians--when and where they lived. The Lightning Swamp is a common answer to his questions. I think the Great Cliffs are too, and a bunch of other places. Skull Rock. Umbuku Island. I mean, the places still exist, Neopia hasn't changed that much, but they're not the same anymore. The Lightning Swamp is just a forest now, I think. You have to tell him."

     "Tell him what?"

     "That it's not the Year 27 he thinks it is. He's been a Mortog for... A very long time."

     Miasmora stared at the Spotted Ixi. "You tell him."

     "You know exactly how that would go."

     "Wait. Would he know Old Meridellian, do you think? Should we ask him if--"

     Wisric shook his head. "Wrong part of Neopia, I would think. I'm surprised we can understand him. I wonder if that's part of the curse. Anyway. You tell him."

     She sighed. "Fine. Okay. But if he bolts, and I had to do this for nothing..." She moved back to the Gelert, who was studying his reflection in the Kiss the Mortog pond. "I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."

     "The fine Grundo already rewarded you for--"

     "Not about that. I think-- Listen, I think going to the castle's Royal Wing is probably the best thing you can do for yourself, not just us. King Skarl will help you get settled in his court, probably. I guess I don't really know. He might hate the idea of having a rival around. You won't be a rival, will you?" She sighed. "I'm rambling. Listen, when I said it was Year 27-- What you have to understand is-- Whatever Year 27 you're thinking it is, it was a very long time ago."

     Well, she probably could have done that more delicately, but she was sure it was better than whatever Wisric would have said.

     To her surprise, the Royal Gelert rallied quickly from the news. "That... That explains things, then, doesn't it? Does this King Skarl have baths in his castle?"

     "I'm sure he does," Miasmora said, though as soon as the words were out, she wondered if they were true. King Skarl, bathing? She'd only ever imagined the king eating.

     "Excellent. I feel... Never mind. Lead the way, if you would."

     Wisric fell into step beside the prince, leaving Miasmora to follow a step behind them.

     "I think King Skarl is preparing for a special feast tonight. You just need to act like you've been invited. A servant will surely show you to the Royal Wing. And of course, you'll tell them that we're your servants, and that we must be allowed to come with you."

     "You want me to lie to our host?" the Gelert asked.

     "Meridell is... How would you explain it?" Wisric asked over his shoulder.

     Miasmora grumbled. "What he means is that Meridell is probably not like your kingdom. King Skarl is-- Well, he's very interested in food. And his officials are very interested in-- Getting paid. If you know what I mean."

     "Not all of them," Wisric added. "The treasurer likes to flip coins. And the majordomo-- Anyway. No one will think you aren't supposed to be here."

     I hope Miasmora thought as she crossed the bridge to Meridell Castle for the third time that day.

     Her stomach grumbled. She glanced up at the sky. The sun was high overhead. They'd been at this for hours already--the scrubbing, the descent into the depths of the castle, this errand out to find this very confused prince. She hoped no one would object to his arrival at the castle, and that they would find the ghost of the ancient princess quickly, and she would actually be able to translate the map for them.

     It would have been nice if her ghost had been downstairs, instead of having to run all over the place like this to find the right ghost, and then...

     She realized as they approached the castle's front door--a grand monument of wood and metal, flanked by a whole squad of royal guards in blue and red livery, unlike the service entrance around back--that this kind of runaround, these absurd obstacles, were the kinds of things heroes in stories had to deal with. Maybe...

     Maybe even if this didn't work out, and there wasn't treasure waiting wherever that map led...

     Something the Ghost Moehog said drifted back to her. The last time he was asked for help. What if the end of the road wasn't treasure, but more work, another quest?

     Ugh. It had better not be.

     If it was--

     Her rumination was interrupted by their arrival at the front door. Just as Wisric had predicted, the guards gave them little trouble. Despite the prince's many, many years as a Mortog, his clothes were still more than fine enough and his bearing more than regal enough for them to wave him through.

     So the king was hosting a special celebration. While that was mildly interesting, it was yet another thing Miasmora didn't have much time to think about. Two servants escorted them through the castle to the Royal Wing, and by the wide-eyed expression on Wisric's face, not even he had seen these extravagant halls. King Skarl's feast halls and kitchens and the servants' corridors and castle corridors were one thing, but here, rich tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes from Meridell's history--battles in their conflicts with Darigan and Kass, treaty signings, the restoration of Meridell's farmlands. The floor beneath their feet was polished to a mirror shine, and there was not a single torch in sight, only great chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, lit, Miasmora was sure, by ancient faerie magic.

     The air was perfumed, and music drifted from one of the apartments farther down the hall, a soft but merry tune she didn't recognize.

     Their escorts, two Korbats, stopped before one of the hall's many doors. "Your suite, my lord," one of them said, bowing to the Gelert. "I believe your-- erm, servant is familiar with the castle, yes?"

     To Miasmora's surprise, the servant's eyes were fixed on Wisric. And Wisric's eyes on the Korbat. For a moment, she could feel the tension in the air between them. But then it broke. Wisric nodded quickly, clumsily, and the two Korbats bowed again--to the Gelert or Wisric she couldn't quite tell--and retreated out of the Royal Wing.

     How strange.

     The three of them retreated themselves, into the grand apartment that lay open behind them. The sprawling sitting room was furnished with plump couches and armchairs, upholstered in red and blue, with Meridell's coat of arms stitched or patterned into the fabric. Lush rugs covered the marble floor, layered over each other into a patchwork that made the room feel less... intimidating--less cold--than the hall outside. As Miasmora settled herself on the largest of the couches, she noticed the brocade pillows were more threadbare than she would have expected, that motes of dust lingered between the cushions. As though this apartment had been neglected, only recently--and hastily, it seemed--made ready for guests.

     Doors opened on every side of the room. The one Wisric closed behind him to the hallway, naturally. To the left of the sitting room was what appeared to be a study, lined with bookshelves, and across the way, a bedroom not much smaller than the sitting room. The last door was closed, and Miasmora guessed there was probably a bath behind it--which she wasn't going to point out to Xandrius until she was sure they wouldn't need him soon.

     Once the door was safely closed behind them, Miasmora turned on Wisric. "What was that about? With the Korbats?"

     "Nothing."

     "You're lying."

     Wisric hesitated for only an instant. "Yes."

     "If you could have gotten us in here without--"

     "I couldn't," he said. "I promise. I couldn't."

     "Bribing officials. Practically gambling on Mortogs. Sneaking ancient princes past guards. You're becoming a very hard Neopet to trust," Miasmora said.

     "You never trusted me."

     It was her turn to hesitate. "Fair."

     "Look, it's not important. Just... Personal stuff. It doesn't matter. I'm in this, same as you. You know exactly how many Neopoints I have to my name."

     Miasmora's cheeks burned. She realised that, of course, the Royal Gelert had been listening to their exchange. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to disappear entirely--except maybe to solve this infuriating mystery and get this insufferable Ixi out of her life.

     Even as she thought it though, she felt a touch of pity for him. Wisric had secrets. He had a past, and from what little she'd glimpsed, she didn't think it was a particularly rosy one.

     "Right. Anyway. Princess--what was her name?"

     "Isoldeia."

     "What about my bath?" the Gelert asked.

     Before either Miasmora or Wisric could answer, the Scorchio princess appeared in their midst--

     --and she was angry.

To be continued…