Mana Mutation Menace (Journey to Chaos Book 3) (61 page)

On his way back, he spotted a crowd of elves walking
towards the Universal Embassy. They were
not
dressed formally. In
contrast, they were dressed for battle. This briefly registered as a threat
until he saw that their weapons were signs and banners instead of swords and
spears.

As long as none of them shouts “KUAKI!” I don’t care.

The front door to the Enaz house was ajar and a scorch
mark could be seen two feet away from it; Kallen didn’t stop to close it after
teleporting. At the dining room table, Forge was dressed in formal blacksmith
robes and playing with a handheld.

“Is anyone else done?”

Forge spared him a glance before returning to his game.

“Right. Stupid question.”

He ran up the stairs to his room, where his own formal
wear was waiting in his pack. When he stepped through the door, he found a
package on his bed. Opening it up, he found a traditional elven robe. He'd read
about them just the other day; male formal wear during special ceremonies and
inter-village meetings. This particular one had a traveler's hood and a brooch
marking the wearer as mage. He choked up at the second; most elves were mages
but only special ones got the brooch. That Nunnal would make this showed her
faith in his abilities.

A dragon standing in a cave was stitched over the front
and back while a pair of crossed black staves could be seen on the sleeves. The
Flower Chaos was here too; its place was over the wearer's heart and along the
skirt.

The cuffs and hems were embroidered, and the fabric was
very soft. Eric couldn't believe Nunnal spent this much on him. It made him
feel guilty. He was still a novice mage; a novice
human
mage because elven
magic still eluded him. Suddenly, he didn't feel comfortable putting the robe
on. He didn't feel like he deserved it.

He was just about to fold the robe and return it to its
box when another thought occurred to him. If he put on his own formal clothes,
from his human culture, when Nunnal had gone to so much trouble...It was too
insulting to consider. So he stood in the room, robe in his arms, frozen.

 Nunnal knocked on the door. "Eric, are you ready?"

"Ahhh...ummm..."

"Are you dressed?"

"Ahhh...yes?"

The door opened. "How are you not sure you're...oh.
Have you decided not to come?”

"No!... It’s about the dress, I mean, the robe…it
doesn’t suit me. Not that it’s a bad article, it’s great but…” He manually shut
his mouth with his hand.

Nunnal smiled kindly. "This is about the decorations,
isn't it?" Eric nodded meekly. "Don't worry about the cost,
Vanquisher of Dengel." Eric's head shot up, mouth agape. "Yes, we
know all about that. I take you know about the Fallen One Festival?"

Eric nodded. "It’s about shaming Dengel's memory. You
burn his effigies. You throw dung on his statue. You tell how his hubris killed
him when he would otherwise live forever. There's a dance to demonstrate proper
courtship, and a feast to celebrate the fact that he's gone."

"That's right," Nunnal said with a nod, "and
you prevented his return."

"I caused it in the first place!"

"Didn't you fix that right away?"

"Well...with help from Kasile...yes..."

"That's right, you also foiled that coup."

"For the last time, I didn't do anything!"

"You protected my daughter's virginity and her
future. That's more important to me."

Eric blushed again. He did do that, and all by himself
too. He couldn't argue that one.

"Think of the robe as a token of my appreciation,"
Nunnal said. "Or, if you prefer to put this in mercenary terms, as a
reward and payment."

Ponix walked in, fumbling with the high collar of his own
robe. It was similar in style, but the symbols were different, such as the hand
of diplomacy. In addition to these, there was one decoration in his personal
style and it wasn't stitched; a game of tic-tac-toe.

"Eric, why aren't you ready? Oh, I bet it doesn't fit
right, right? But that won't be a problem, not for us elves. By the power of
Lady Chaos, our bodies can shrink, twist, and sculpt in the slightest or
greatest degrees so as to fit any piece of clothing regardless of other factors.
Why, when we were dating, Nunnal made me a sweater with the head and sleeves in
the wrong places, so I transformed to make her feel better!" 

 Nunnal turned a shade of red but smiled all the same.

"However, this is not the case with females, as they bear
a deep aversion to shapeshifting into clothes. I think it might be because they
are vai-EHP!" Ponix gasped as his wife secured his collar, tightly.
"They already look gorgeous in whatever they wear!" he choked out.

Nunnal loosened his collar accordingly.

"Eric, we'll be leaving soon. If you want to come,
you have to get dressed now," Nunnal said. "Annala's waiting."

That was all Eric needed. He used water avatarcraft to
cleanse himself and fire to quickly dry. Then he changed into the robe and tied
the sash around his waist, securing it tight. He noted that the hem was wide
enough to allow fancy footwork, then he chortled at himself. Here he was going
to an international vanguard meeting as a guest and yet he thought of himself
as a guard. He took a breath to dissolve his nerves. As a guest, he'd have to
mind his manners.

Four-fifths of the Enazes were waiting for him at the
front entrance, but all he saw was Annala. Clad in a pink evening gown, she
looked radiant.

The bodice flowed snugly down to her waist and then to a
clingy skirt around her ankles. Flowers made to resemble the Flower of Chaos
decorated it. There were no sleeves, only elbow length gloves. Her hair was now
over half grey, which created the impression that the tips were dyed
golden-brown. It was up in a chignon with a braided tulip behind each ear. Looking
at her, Eric forgot to breathe.

 Annala herself was at a loss for words. She didn't realize
how handsome he would look in her culture's formal wear. Nunnal couldn't resist
“aww”ing and imagining grandkids. Sharing the thought, Ponix was looking
forward to passing on his love of puzzles. Eric descended the stairs and
offered his arm to Annala. She accepted and stood as close as she politely
could. It was only then that Kallen emerged from her room.

Her hair was still damp from her shower and pulled into a
messy bun. She didn’t have time for make-up or flowers. She was wearing the
same sky pattern dress from the last Summit and the New Scepter Competition. It
was a little small on her and in need of ironing. When she saw her sister,
splendid and hanging on Eric’s arm, she slouched and dimmed.

Emily slid a lily behind her ear and said, “Don’t worry,
Boss. You look great.”

Kallen smiled. “Thanks.” 

Their walk to the Universal Embassy was uneventful until
they arrived. Some elves, like themselves, wanted to co-exist with humans and met
them on the way. Others, while they had nothing personal against humans, still
didn't like them and stayed as far away as possible. Still others had stronger
feelings and wanted to be close enough to protest.

They marched back and forth across the front lawn with
posters of a crossed-out human face. They recited the atrocities humans had
committed against them and each other with history books in hand. Above them
flew a banner proclaiming, “Temps Are Trouble.” However, Eric noticed that they
stayed outside of the tree guards' striking range.

“Here's the traitors now!" Meza jeered. "And they’re
bringing their powerless spawn and Dengel's mortal coil with him! Even The
Trickster’s Joke is coming!"

Annala stepped closer to Eric and his eyes slitted. He hid
a compressed mana bolt in his free hand. The moment they made a move against
his lady, he would blast them to pieces and feast on their remains. Forge stood
on Annala’s other side and palmed a dagger. Kallen fearlessly blew a raspberry
at Meza and Emily followed her lead. Nunnal and Ponix took point.

“The Scatterbrained Schmoozer and the Witch of Dnnac Ledo,
off to play with the Decayed Darwoss,” Meza continued. “Never has a human
family been more pathetic in their jealousy of the Favored Race!”

The protestors simultaneously shouted derogatory language
while listing off more war crimes with second mouths.

"Hear this, traitors? This is
your
history!
The history of your parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents! Thousands of
years of bigotry and evil! The people who were tortured and raped and enslaved
by the filth you're meeting with!"

Ponix stepped forward and snapped. A tiny wave rippled
from his fingers and cancelled the noise of the protestors. Irresistibly, it
drew their attention away from the Universal Embassy and towards the man in
charge of it.

“You’re absolutely right. Humans did everything you say,
but these humans in particular did not. In fact, they’re rallying like you’re
doing in protest of this meeting and saying many of the same things you are.
You have a lot more in common than you think.”

He extended his arms in welcome.

"The Conversion War ended over four hundred years ago.
The
great-grandchildren
of those humans aren't alive anymore. I invite
you all to come with me and meet them for yourself.”

They hesitated.

“What’s this I see? It couldn’t possibly be fear. The
Favored Race has nothing to fear from puny humans, right? Surely you want to
show off, if nothing else.”

One elf stepped out of the crowd. It was Nilo, and she was
decked in light magical armor. With her hair tied back and the light of battle
on her face, she looked like a guardian herself.

“Legend says that Muags the Hoarder hired humans because
of their simple-minded greed. Decayed Darwoss will make a perfect character study.
Besides,” she struck a pose, “they deserve to see what a
real
elf girl
looks like.”

  Meza smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “That’s my little
warrior. Ralm, get over here.” The boy was at his elbow in an instant. “That
Darwoss spawn won’t be able to control himself around my great niece. Make sure
he keeps his hands to himself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll stay here and direct an offensive if necessary.”

 “You know, Meza,” Ponix said, “other villages have moved
on and live in peace with humans. The total is some fifty percent of Avalon."

"Then they're traitors too!"

“The Supreme Council authorized this meeting to extend the
reach of our Grandmother, Lady Chaos, and beat back our evil uncle. Meza,
you
approved it to release our enslaved brethren. Why are you protesting this?”

Meza marched forward. His posture promised retribution
against the diplomat while Ponix remained calm yet steadfast. Then a short
little boy ran past him and jumped up to Ponix’s eye level. Hovering there with
hummingbird wings, he began his declaration.

“Because humans are evil and primitive worms that cannot
conceive a higher thought than base self-gratification nor hold true to a
promise greater than the memory of goldfish and the highest ambition and
ultimate goal of such debased creatures is the subjugation of all things into a
sitcom for their petty, commercialized, amusement.”

The younger members of the mob immediately echoed this sentiment,
and thereby forgot their previous grudges in light of this new one. The older
members, Meza included, groaned at the shame they brought upon the group. Emily
and Eric laughed. While the hate mongers paused at the humans laughing at
themselves, the one who had spoken up winked at Eric and vanished.

Several more elves joined Nilo. Most were goaded by
Ponix’s words, but some were genuinely interested in seeing a real life human.
It was a scholarly interest, like bird watching. Then there were a couple who
wanted to play with their goldfish-like memory.  

The Enaz family and their guests entered the protection of
the tree sentinels and more verbal abuse followed them in. From the back, Annala’s
hair was more visible and the Subjugation Collar as well. One of the mob took
notice and shouted, “Static Elf! Hair-Dyed Human! I’m glad that treacherous
human collared you!”

Eric was about to release the compressed bolt when Annala
tightened her grip.

“Don't,” she whispered. “They're right.”

“Annala!”

“They are,” she continued. "Without my powers,
without...” She cut off and gulped. “I
am
nothing but a human with hair
dye.”

“Annala....”

Inside the Universal Embassy, the atmosphere had changed
since Eric’s arrival. No elf was lounging about or slacking off; all of them
were busy with last-minute preparations. There were still banners to hang,
flowers to place, food to set out, tables to set up, and rooms to prepare.
Guardians patrolled every hallway looking for trouble and they, in turn, were
watched to make sure they weren’t causing any themselves and even these
watchers were watched by Ponix to make sure they didn’t “accidentally” miss
anything.

Inside the Arch of Kresnik’s chamber, a red carpet had
been rolled out from the Arch itself to the exit. Elves in uniform lined each
side of it; men as butlers and women as maids. This struck Eric as extreme for
a town whose people didn’t like visitors, but then he remembered Annala’s deal.
The price for medical mana mutation was the freedom of elven slaves.

They want this to happen as much as Norej and for
similar reasons.

“I hear Tiza spent a week in the land of tents, getting to
know her not-boyfriend’s family,” Kallen remarked. “Either she’s all polished
and proper by now, or she’s gone mad.”

“As we say on my home world, ‘you can’t make a silk purse
out of a sow’s ear.’”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Kallen said. “The power of love
can make people do bizarre and extreme things; things that were not thought to
be possible. This is all the more the case in a world where is love is
equivalent with chaos.”