Chapter 205: The Quest to Clean a Statue
"I am not happy."
The elven miss uttered a line worthy of a certain blond-haired character.
It was a bright, clear day in the city's central square. A statue stood in its center, a statue of the great Holy King Norne, a man who had left an indelible mark on human history.
And at the foot of the statue, two figures were busy at work.
Time and the elements had taken their toll on the great monument. A deep green moss had grown in the crevices, and a network of fine cracks was spreading at its base.
Serie was floating at the top of the statue, her fingers now weaving a series of a delicate and intricate threads of a blue mana, carefully removing the moss from the hard-to-reach places without damaging the stone. She was a quick worker, but the look on her face, under her hood, was one of a clear and present annoyance.
Below her, Rhodes was cleaning the base and filling the cracks. He was using a simple method: a bucket of water, a few rags, and a clay-like substance, like an ordinary laborer.
"Rhodes," she said.
She had finished her work and had now come down to where he was still crouched, scraping away at a patch of stubborn grime.
"Yes?" he asked, without looking up.
"I need an explanation," she said, her voice now a little louder. "Why am I using my precious magic to clean the moss and dirt from a statue's head?" It was the most boring thing she had ever done, even worse than the time he had insisted on washing her hair.
He stopped and slowly straightened up, and looked at the low-pressure system that was now hovering around the elven miss.
He did not answer her right away. He just slowly, deliberately, took a small, flat purse from his pocket and, with a few light clinks, he emptied its contents into his palm and held it out to her. A few small, dark, and lusterless metal discs.
"? "
She was confused. "What are these black things? Where did you dig them up?"
"They are not 'dug up'," he said with a serious expression. "This is our travel fund."
"Travel fund?" her frown deepened. "Is this... money? The taste of humans is getting stranger and stranger." She could not understand why they would use such a plain, even dirty, piece of metal as a medium of exchange.
"Yes, money," he explained patiently. "In a human city, you need this to eat, to buy things."
"Money? Did you not bring any? I seem to recall that over the past thousand years, you've collected a fair amount of shiny baubles and good-quality magic gems." She remembered a large pile of them, in a corner of his room, a pile she had almost thrown out once because it was in the way, but he had stopped her. Had he really set out on this journey without any money?
"I did," he said with a sigh. "I brought a few gold coins. But..." his expression was a little hard to read, "...the currency is not the same."
"Gold is a hard currency, but most of what I brought was minted by the dwarves," he explained.
"And what is wrong with that?"
"Dwarven gold coins," he said, and took out one of the dark coins for comparison, "they have a habit of mixing in some other metals to increase their hardness. So the purity... is not as high as the coins that are currently in circulation in the human kingdoms. And besides, times have changed. They now prefer their own official currency. My dwarven coins... I would have to take a huge loss at a money changer, or just sell them as raw gold. And as for the gems... I only brought a few. I can't just pull one out every time I want to buy something. It would attract too much attention. And I can't just... sell them in small pieces."
"..."
She looked at the pathetic little pile of coins in his hand and then pictured him, trying to haggle with a street vendor with a giant, glittering gem, and the corner of her mouth twitched. It was... an absurd image.
"So," he said with a shrug, and pointed to the great statue of Norne, "yesterday, when we entered the city, I saw a notice, looking for a mage to repair and clean this statue. And I thought it would be interesting, so I took the job."
"Interesting?" her own voice was now a little louder. "I do not find this interesting at all. Were there no monster-slaying quests?"
"Don't you think," he said with a smile, and his own gaze now fell upon the statue, "that it's nice, to do something simple like this, once in a while? And besides..." his voice was now a little softer, "...to see his face... doesn't it bring back any memories?"
She followed his gaze, and her own eyes fell on the familiar face of the statue. Norne... the quiet one who had always taken care of them, the one who had been so flustered when he had asked him to found a nation... his ideals, his obsession, his final farewell... a strange and complex emotion now replaced the annoyance in her own eyes.
"He looks a little... old," she said softly.
The statue was of a middle-aged, solemn and majestic Norne, a far cry from the spirited young man she remembered.
"Yes. Being a king is a tiring job," he said with a shrug, his tone now a little teasing. "But this guy... to have such a huge statue of himself... and what about us? Not even a single shadow."
To his surprise, she defended him. "These statues were erected by his people, long after his death, to honor his memory." She paused, as if trying to recall a distant detail. "I heard that when he was still alive, he had wanted to have a statue of all of us made, all of his old companions. He had drawn sketches, had even found a sculptor, but..."
Her gaze fell on an inconspicuous spot on the base of the statue, where the inscription of his great deeds was now faded and illegible. "But... the statue of you," she said, and looked at him, her earlier annoyance now completely gone, replaced by a new, softer look, "...it was never to his satisfaction. He kept having the design redrawn, over and over, and in the end... he just gave up."
"That sounds like him. So serious, and a little... hesitant."
The only two times in his life that Norne had not hesitated had been when he had decided to go on an adventure with them, and when he had agreed to found a nation.
He just shook his head with a small, fond smile and picked up his rag. "He has good taste, at least. In that case... I'll give him a good polish."
She looked at him, and then at the statue, and the last of her own displeasure seemed to have been washed away by a wave of a shared and bittersweet memory.
(End of Chapter)
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