Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

From the moment the Fount was baked, he knew everything. With the Soul Jam of Knowledge in his possession, it was built into his very dough to know every little thing about Earthbread’s past, present, and future. 

And he despised it.

Sure, it was fun to be the “smartest” cookie in the room, but it gets old when you have to live it everyday. 

It gets repetitive.

And don’t get him started on the visions. Glimpses of the future that plague his mind randomly, trying to warn and inform him of what’s to come, but in truth, it’s nothing but tedious.

Because the Fount of Knowledge already knows everything. He knew of the Witches true motivations. The actual purpose of the baking of cookies. Every cold hard truth, and every bold faced lie, he knows it all. Over the centuries, he’s gotten used to it. Yet, the one fact that will always leave him in a cold glaze is his apparent destination. No matter what timeline or future he saw. It was always the same end.

Corruption.

In his visions, when he can make sense of them, it always has the same repeating images.

Beasts ravaging the land, jam and cookie crumbs scattered like ashes, forks destroying the already barren ground. And in the middle of it all, the five Virtues, Corrupted beyond repair.

The thought terrified him. Seeing his friends and him destroying Earthbread wasn’t what they were baked for at all. It just couldn’t be true. Yet, he always saw the same thing. A warning for what’s to come, and he had to stop it. The future has yet to arrive, and the Fount will do everything in his power to ensure that the future in his visions doesn’t come true.

But what could he do? Even though he held the power of the Soul Jam, he knew he wasn’t the most powerful cookie on Earthbread. That power was held by the Dragons that were rumored to run parts of the land and the Legendary gods that held their respective territories. But, he doubts he can receive their help.

So the Fount thinks of the Witches.

Truthfully, he knows they won’t do anything. They don’t care. Whether or not the cookies crumble another or unite together to sing kumbaya, it doesn’t even gain the Witches eyes. The only time that cookies become a great concern is when the Witches Banquet arrives which isn’t happening in a couple centuries.

So that left only one option, the Virtues. And the Fount…didn’t want to involve them.

Even though the five were baked in the same oven, the Fount never would want to bother them with an issue pertaining to him. The Virtues all agreed that they would do every matter that they got involved in by themselves, respecting the other five’s boundaries. Plus, he really couldn’t say whether these “visions” actually held that much truth to them. He wouldn’t want to cause a panic on a matter that isn’t guaranteed to happen.

Deep down, he knows he probably should tell someone, he alone can’t fight fate,  but he fears that they wouldn’t believe him, he fears they too will call him a liar. like every other cookie in this Witches. Damned. World-

So yes, this issue will only concern that of the Fount of Knowledge. Not only is he the one plagued with these visions of destruction, but it is also his duty to deal with issues that pertain to the future of cookiekind.

All he needs to do is to strategize.

The Ivory Pagoda was as busy as ever.

Cookies coming in and out from all over Earthbread to worship the Virtue of Volition, praising her blessings and asking her to permit the wishes that lay on their tongues.

Everyday was the same. A cookie would find themselves in front of her, begging for something that only she could give, and the Virtue of Volition would give it without an issue.

It was getting exhausting, and that was the issue. The bearer of the Soul Jam of Volition shouldn’t ignore the words of fellow cookies, she should be offering aid whenever possible.

But it’s getting harder to fulfill each wish and dream lately. Almost as something in her dough was eroding away, it was quite worrisome.

“Oh great Virtue of Volition, please help me!” Yelped the floral cookie in front of her. She nearly flinched, she didn’t realize she was dazing out.

“What do you need, Orchid Cookie.” She stated calmly as she regained her composure. The cookie then began to spout about how their garden was drying out due to the constant spice storms plaguing their home. They asked for advice on how to save their orchids from dying out before the harvest. A deep part of the Virtues mind thought ‘Witches, this is going to a while.’

After Orchid Cookie left, she felt relieved. She finally got to drop the presumptuous title of ‘The Virtue of Volition’ and become something more herself: Mystic Flour Cookie.

It always comforted her to drop her virtuous title after a long day, it made her feel like she was actually a normal cookie. It was strange that only she had chosen a name for herself out of the five Virtues, but she guessed being the representative of Volition has its advantages.

Now with her new found freedom, Mystic Flour decided to roam her Pagoda in search of the project she was investing for herself. It didn’t take long for her to find the cocoon she’s been building over this decade.

The webs and strings stemming from the dark pillars, connecting together to form an intricate design built to sustain her for centuries. It was her greatest masterpiece. A place for her to regain her power and sanity so that she can help cookiekind. It was nearly finished, and soon, she can finally begin the steps of regaining her power and stopping the erosion that she felt happening in her Soul Jam.

“Mystic Flour Cookie, I am sorry to disturb you, but your presence is inquired.” Mystic Flour immediately turned around to find Cloud Hatae’s mother bowing her head, beckoning for permission to speak. “What is the issue, and how can I be of assistance?” She started immediately, ruffling down her hanfu. Though, she stopped in her tracks when she heard a familiar voice from beyond where Cloud Hatae’s mother was bowing.

“Calm down, Mystic Flour. I get being excited to see me, but even you can relax sometimes.” The Fount of Knowledge stated as he walked further into the room.

Mystic Flour then stared at the blue cookie approaching her dumbfoundedly. She then said, “Oh great Fount, I did not expect you of all people to leave your Spire to come visit me all the way in my Pagoda. But I guess even you are full of surprises.”

“That I am.” He said smugly.

Mystic Flour then turned to Cloud Hatae’s mother who was still in the room. “I thank you for bringing the Fount to me, you may leave and attend to your child if you wish.” The Hatae nodded and left the room, leaving the Fount and Virtue alone.

It was silent for a moment as the two stared at one another. Interestingly, the Fount was the one to break the silence.

“You should really clean this place up, those spider webs are something else.” He said pointing up at the massive cocoon that hovered behind her.

“Hm, I think it gives my home some charm, reminds the citizens that I am as old as the tales say I am.” She said smiling. The Fount snickered at that, replying with, “You are quite old, I can’t remember if you always had white hair, or have you received it from your years of being alive. Oh is that a wrinkle I see-“ the Fount began to yap, poking jabs at her age.

To this, she rolled her eyes, laughing silently. “We're the same age, you fool. If anything, I think you're worse than I am considering the cane you occasionally walk around with.” The Fount  sputtered at that and immediately crossed his arms and glared at her with no true heat in his eyes.

It got quiet once more, but the tension was mostly gone.

She then asked, “Now, why has the Fount of Knowledge come to my Pagoda? I doubt you came here just to make small talk.”  The Fount gasped and immediately interjected—“Do you think so little of me? I always love talking with you.” He then gave a mock bow, gesturing for her to plead her case.

‘I beg to differ’ she thought.  Instead, she raised her eyebrows and said, “Not saying that you don’t care for me, you’re just not the type to abandon your Scholars alone in your Spire of Knowledge.”

The Fount then became oddly silent, but after a minute, he groaned and responded, “Witches, don’t remind me. Those Scholars are the most inexperienced cookies I’ve ever met! I try teaching them but they never can retain a teaspoon of the knowledge I spill. They’ll be the death of me I swear! And don’t get me started on-“ the Fount began to rant about the variety of instances that his followers had gotten into this week. He was gesturing wildly and his eyes flared with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. His hair also became more frazzled as he went on and on about the Scholars.

Mystic Flour took this as a sign to get some tea, this was going to be a long conversation.  She began to walk around the room—the Fount following her absentmindedly, still stuck in his yapping—till she found the little tea table she had put in here a while back when Cloud Hatae Cookie began to visit her more frequently. Now, they were a joy. Though it didn’t seem like they’d enjoy the tea, Cloud Hatae always would take an opportunity to speak to Mystic Flour Cookie. 

Smiling at the memory, Mystic Flour decided to make some jasmine tea for her and the Fount. After finishing the set, she turned to face the annoyed Fount to invite him for a drink.  While midturn, she nearly was hit in the face by a floating tea cup.

Alarmed, but not surprised, Mystic Flour glared at the Fount of Knowledge for the mess he was causing. The Fount, now beginning to float a few inches off the ground, had started to levitate the surrounding objects in the room as he was ranting. It’s a common occurrence for the Fount to lose a hold of his magic, but it didn’t mean Mystic Flour Cookie couldn’t be annoyed by it.

Funnily enough, the Fount’s hair now looked beyond frazzled, and his clothes had begun to wrinkle with his constant hand motions. He floated higher and higher, and the objects began to swirl around him faster and faster, making him look like he was stuck in a miniature tornado ready to destroy her own Pagoda.

“-frankly, Black Sapphire is by far the most annoying cookie I have ever met, he’s always constantly bothering me about-“

“I thought you said Black Sapphire was by far your most favorite scholar?” She chooses here to interject as she doesn’t want her nearly-finished cocoon to get destroyed by a fool.  

After her statement, the whirlwind stops—leaving himself and the objects frozen in midair—and the Fount seems to have snapped back into his senses. He looks around, noticing the mess he’s made, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“Well, he is a great scholar, and I will applaud him for it,” he begins to say as he slowly lowers himself down from the air into the chair across from her. ”But he’s also far too curious, even more so than me sometimes.” He places his chin onto his hands as he finishes speaking. The rest of the objects that were once suspended in midair have returned to their previous places, the only sign of the whirlwind before was that of the Founts own ragged appearance.

She handed a cup of Jasmine Tea to the Fount, and he gladly took it. Immediately taking a sip and sighing.

“Oh Mystic, you always know how to make the best teas,” the Fount of Knowledge said while closing his eyes in contempt. She hummed herself as she too took a sip of the tea as well.

After a few minutes of silence, the Fount spoke.

“Though, I do always enjoy your company, I came here to ask you a question,” Mystic Flour nodded, implying to continue the conversation. The Fount then clicked his tongue, and the air around them became heavy once more.

“How long do you plan to confine yourself into this little cocoon?” Gesturing towards spiderwebs that surrounded the room with raised brows.

Mystic Flour Cookie froze at that. Not that she was shocked that the Fount had figured out her little project, no one can really hide anything from the Fount of Knowledge. No, she was surprised that the Fount brought it up at all.

The Fount of Knowledge was a curious individual, but he also never really questioned what the rest of the Virtues did. The five had a silent agreement that they would run their respective areas in how they saw fit, no need to question anything. The only time a Virtue would question another is if said Virtue found something dangerous in what someone was doing. So, what did the Great Fount fear of her cocoon?

Instead of bringing up her thoughts, she answered his question while placing down her teacup. “I was planning to stay in it for a few centuries, maybe even a few millennias.” She paused, as she noticed the Fount sitting eerily still as he looked down in his tea, but she continued anyways, “I suspect that I’ll enter this cocoon by the end of the month. I already am writing the letters I’ll send to you and the rest of Virtues when I succeed.”

The Fount finally then stared at her, an unreadable look on his face. She met his gaze, trying to decipher what he could be thinking at the moment.

“The others are not going to be happy when you finally tell them.” The Fount chuckled with no true joy in it, “I know that we Virtues haven’t met together for decades, but the rest will still be upset when they find out.”

She nods at this, now avoiding the Fount’s piercing gaze. “I know, and I’m sorry for  this to happen so…unexpectedly. But I am sure that I must do this, for both cookiekind and myself.” She exclaimed while putting her hand on her chest. She felt the need to justify her actions, she didn’t want the Fount to get the wrong idea on why she was truly pursuing this project.

There was a beat of silence that dragged way longer than it should’ve been. Mystic Flour felt that she aged a couple centuries waiting to hear what the Fount thought.

Finally, expasterated, the Fount drags his hands down his face, muttering something she can’t quite hear. He finally sighs, “I guess that means there’s no stopping you.” She doesn’t respond to that, not really understanding if he’s upset about her not informing the Virtues of her plan, or the idea that she’s abandoning the Virtues to live off in solitude for centuries.

The Fount then hesitates for a moment, unsure what to say. After a minute, he looks back up at her, “May I ask what prompted you to go through with this?” 

Dread filled her dough at that question. It felt as if she had just been dunked into a river of milk, and her dough was becoming even more unsteady the longer she was in there. Of all the things the Great Fount could ask, he chose that question? She quickly took a chug at her tea—ignoring the deadpanned look she received from the Fount—to give her time to think of what to say. 

Should she lie? On second thought, what cookie in their right mind would lie to the Fount of Knowledge himself probably. She could try just prolonging this tea sip, but even the Fount—who is now starting to glare at her—has a limit towards his patience.

That left the last option, the truth. She might as well face the beast  before it comes back to bite her later. So she put down her teacup, but she didn’t look up. She really didn’t want to face the Fount at the moment.

“…my Soul Jam, it isn’t, I’m not-“ Witches she couldn’t even explain it, “something is happening, and I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not.” She still didn’t look up, but she heard the Fount move, most likely gesturing for her to explain.

“…I can’t h-hear… the Light of Volition.” She managed to stutter out. “This cocoon…it’s supposed to help me regain my focus on my duty, it’s supposed to remove this sudden—“ she pauses to think of the right word “—apathy, towards cookiekind.”

She chooses this moment to glance up at the Fount and he… huh…

She really couldn’t describe that look.

“I’m worried, Fount. Something is going awry on Beast Yeast, and I don’t know what the cause could be. But…I do know that this cocoon is the first step to fixing that. I need to regain my strength so that I can effectively help cookiekind.” She then hesitates saying the words that begin popping into her mind, but she does it anyway. “Perhaps losing sight of my Virtue is a sign that we five need to reevaluate our ways of leading our subjects.” She saw the Fount begin to object to that, but she continued.

“The Witches tasked us to guide cookiekind, to lead them towards prosperous lives. But if we constantly tell what every cookie should do, when are they going to find their own volition in their lives?!” She could feel herself getting emotional about this, but she could hardly care at the moment its been awhile since she’s truly felt something

“We are beginning to lose sight of our own virtues, and it’s beginning to show. We were not baked to be servants, bound to the needs of cookiekind; we were baked to make sure that they were raised to achieve their own dreams, not have it be spoonfed to them like some toddler!”

It was quiet after that. Neither of them said anything at her outburst, and the room was only filled with her heavy breathing. The Fount purposefully avoided eye contact with her, and she could feel the sudden unease from him. It reminded her of the time when the Fount brought a cream wolf to a meeting the Virtues held together a while back.

It happened centuries ago, when the Virtues were still young and inexperienced at their newfound roles. It also was when the five didn’t hesitate to get together and discuss what was going on in their kingdoms in Beast Yeast.

This specific meeting happened to be held in The Fount’s grand old Spire of Knowledge; he had just finished building it, and he wanted to show the five his greatest achievement before he opened it to the rest of Earthbread.

The Fount himself was running late, so the rest of Virtues were casually talking. The Sugar of Happiness—practically laying on the right shoulder of the Salt of Solidarity—chattered about the new cookies visiting her garden. The Salt of Solidarity—standing stoically, not bothered by the winged cookie—spoke fondly of the new recruits he was training for his Knights of Kala Namak. The Herald of Change—standing closer to her—boasted the making of a new spice tribe. She herself even spoke of how talented many cookies were in her kingdom, and what they had wished for to pursue their endeavors.

It was around then when the Fount of Knowledge burst into the world with a cream wolf in his arms. “Sorry I’m late, found this old boy in the frosty peaks on the edge of Crispia, actually ran into these dragons, but they were arguing so I didn’t bother-“

“Wa-wait wait wait, when did you go to Crispia??” The Salt of Solidarity immediately questioned. Mystic Flour smiled at that. The knight, despite seeming to be the most put together of the five, always got the most confused with any of their bizarre antics.

“That’s not important. But I really wanted to compare the difference between Beast Yeast cream wolves and Crispia cream wolves.” He stated as if it were obvious, pushing the cream wolf higher in his arms as if to demonstrate that .

The Sugar of Happiness then yawns while expressing her take on the situation, “I didn’t think there was that much of a difference, they're both quite adorable though, aren’t they? I think they would make a lovely addition to my Garden.”

However, the first part caught the Founts attention “‘Not that much of a difference?!’ That’s basically saying there isn't a difference between jelly and jam!”

“Is there a difference between jelly and jam?-“

“Oh my Witches- I swear I’ve already gone over this debate with you guys, do anyone even listen to me??” the Founts, attempting a joke.

Yet, now Mystic Flour felt bad, not that she didn’t listen to the Fount, but he…talked a lot so she tended to mix and forget most things he’s told her.

Luckily, the Salt of Solidarity replied, “I thought that was about the argument about the difference between cake hounds and cream wolves?”

The Fount immediately turned to him dumbfounded, but after a minute, he looked like he was struck with revelation and points his finger towards the knight—barely holding his other arm around the now jumpy cream wolf. “Ohhh you're so right! How’d you even remember that?”

“I always remember everything you say. You always have something intriguing to bring in the conversation.”

At that, the Fount went stock still, eyes widening; it even looked like his breath was taken away, which was…odd. Before she could question it, however, disaster struck.

The cream wolf, who was seemingly held in the Founts singular arm, somehow escaped and jumped towards her, its teeth starting to snap as if ready to bite her. It probably would have, thinking about it now.

But the Herald right next to her pushed her out of the way, leading the cream wolf to crash into him instead. The room erupted into chaos once more.

The Sugar of Happiness squaked and shot up into the air out of shock, the Salt of Solidarity reached for his sword, Mystic Flour ran towards the Herald to see if he was alright, and the Herald…he was laughing.

“Oh this beast is quite a charmer, he might’ve bruised me!” He managed to cackle out. “Makes me wish cream wolves were in the Land of Spice, would definitely liven things up over there.” He then said while attempting to get up with the cream wolf attaching his claws and teeth into his lower left arm.

Despite the odd situation, she couldn’t help responding to that remark. “I thought the spice tribes were fighting over how much land they could use?”

“Eh, that happens every other week. Oh! I will say you should come visit and see how they resolve their issues though, cookies come up with the weirdest ideas!” He says with barely contained excitement in his eyes.

She nods, considering the idea. She should get out of her Pagoda more often. She then remembers what’s going on and notices the cream wolf is now clawing at the red cookie’s arm.

That’s when the Fount seems to awaken out his trance, and he snaps his fingers. The wolf that was formerly clinging onto the Herald is now up in the air, spinning slightly. The Fount then sighs and turns his attention to the Herald. The Fount doesn’t necessarily say anything, but the look in his eyes practically screams that he feels ashamed of the incident that just occurred.

The Herald doesn’t say anything for a moment either, but he does start laughing. He walks over to Fount and the Herald pats his hand on the Founts shoulder. “Don’t fret if my friend! I have never been bested by a cream wolf before, it'll be a tale that will be remembered for ages.”

The Fount smiles at that, and gestures that they should actually start the meeting that they all originally were there for.

Yet, through that entire meeting, his eyes always held that sense of uneasiness.

Just like his eyes now.

“I think I should leave,” the Fount said, putting down his finished tea. He then started to get up and began turning to leave the room.

But—“Wait!—she interrupted. The Fount stopped for a moment which left her room to continue. “I think…I think I have the right to ask you a question, great Fount. It’s quite rude to ask something of someone, and not expect them to get something in return, no?”

The Fount doesn’t look at her, but he does chuckle a bit. “Yes, I guess that’s fair. I really was quite… inquisitive today. Well, ask away blessed Virtue.”

Uncomfortable at the sudden use of formality, she steadies herself and begins to ask the inquiry she’s had since the Fount began to question her cocoon. “Do you have any inkling of what might be the cause of this-“

“No, I do not.” The quick response made her stop in her tracks. The Fount—who was still not looking at her—seemed…to have known what she was going to ask. “I-I see.” She stuttered out, ignoring how her mouth was getting more dry despite the tea she had just been drinking.

The Fount then faced her one final time. He looked…guilty? Relieved? Contempt? She really couldn’t tell since when did the Fount emotions become so hard to read

The last thing she heard from him was simply this, “I’m sorry for this rather abrupt visit, and I really shouldn’t have questioned your motives like that,” he pauses, which gives her a moment to study his eyes for a minute. “I should get going now though, but it has been fun catching up with you, my friend. I will be saddened not to see you after this.”

“I won’t be gone that long, if all goes well, I’ll be out before you even can write my absence in the history books.” She says to garner some faith.

The Fount nods, and they say their goodbyes. The Fount doesn’t turn back once when he leaves the room.

A part of her really wished she called the Fount back. To fully discuss what was happening to their home, and acknowledge the Fount’s strange behavior. But she didn’t.

He left. She stayed quiet. And that was how it ended.

But even after it all, that…look in his eyes bothered her. From the briefest moment when he met her eye contact for the last time.

She swears she saw fear.

Chapter Text

‘Well, that went horribly,’ the Fount groaned internally. The conversation with Mystic Flour gave him a massive headache, and he couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that he just messed something up royally.

It didn’t help that he had to rethink every action he had just made as he was walking (ugh) back towards his Spire. It was a painfully long walk; it takes 3 days there and back to make it to the Ivory Pagoda, and of course, he left his cane back in his lovely Spire.

It’s weird to think he even needs a cane nowadays. The Witches, supposedly, created the Virtues to be ‘all-powerful’ and ‘indestructible.’

“So much for that, I can barely walk home,” he grumbled out loud

Annddd now he’s talking to himself, great!

Witches, he’s stressed, and he’s only talked to one Virtue. He doesn’t know what he’ll do by talking to the rest.

It’s fine, though, he just needs to make it back to the Spire and replan. Well, actually plan what to do about this issue.

He originally felt that he didn’t need to think this through; he thought he would only need to catch up with the Virtues, calmly discuss some things that they were doing, return home to his Spire, and evaluate any other issues that might arise from this corruption.

The problem was that he didn’t account for the fact that Mystic Flour Cookie actually sensed something happening. Now that worried him. Because if she noticed something, then it means that the corruption was starting to happen.

Maybe he should have told her what was going on-

He suddenly feels a jolt down his right leg, and he nearly falls face-first onto the forest floor, but he luckily grabs a tree that was right next to him to stabilize his balance.

‘Probably a sign from the Witches themselves telling him to sit down and think about what he’s  going to do.’ He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh at the random thought. Nonetheless, he agrees with the notion.

He lowers himself down beside the tree that he was holding onto, and he starts to think about the drastic situation he has found himself in.

For millennia, the Virtues have always done their jobs in aiding cookiekind reach their fullest potential. Whether it was providing wisdom, resources, and gifts, the Virtues would always provide for a cookie in need.

But now…

‘Perhaps losing sight of my Virtue is a sign that we five need to reevaluate our ways of leading our subjects’

Mystic Flour’s words begin echoing in his head, ricocheting to the very corners of his mind like some sort of jello frog jumping desperately, trying to catch some sugar fly.

‘She wasn’t wrong,’ he tries to justify himself, ‘but she also wasn’t right.”

Losing her sight of her Virtue was a sign, but not in the way she implies. Her statement only proves that he needs to push forward on this plan to stop this growing corruption.

The Fount is a stubborn fool

There is nothing wrong in appeasing cookiekind, it’s the literal job of the Virtues. The five are meant to give and bless their subjects because what else can they do? The Witches gave them this immense power which means it’s their responsibility to use it for the good of cookiekind.

And Mystic Flour Cookie…isn’t doing that.

He didn’t want to say it outright to her face, but the thought of her ‘abandoning’ her people to fend for themselves didn’t seem smart. Especially when the corruption is beginning to show signs of taking hold. 

He won’t lie though, he too gets annoyed at the…stupidity…uhhhh…uniqueness they are morons of his scholars. He really wishes he could be alone in his Spire. He wants to study and inspect all the curious things of Earthbread, but it’s his role to provide the truth to all the cookies who ask.

They don’t even want the truth, they don’t want the harsh, cruel knowledge, all they want to hear is the lies lies LIES-

He really should start moving again; he still has a couple miles to go. The sky above him is starting to darken, but if gets up now, he should be able to reach his Spire by sunset.

But his limbs still ache, and he really doesn’t want to get up at the moment. What he would give to just lie down on this tree, and let time pass around him. When was the last time he actually looked at the sky?

It’s sickeningly pretty. The sun has been out of sight for a long time due to the tall trees that surround him, but he can barely see its shining glow slowly dimming in the east. The clouds are being drifted by the steady breeze that crosses in front of him, and the sky has taken a soft shade of pink as it slowly fades into the night sky.

He could almost forget his own impending doom

He should really get home to his Scholars.

But…he hasn’t felt this peaceful in a…long time.

It’ll only be a minute.

It took two extra days to reach the Spire of Knowledge, and as expected, he was bombarded with questions from the curious of why it took him so long to return.

‘I wish I hadn’t.’ He thinks bitterly, rolling his eyes. 

But he manages a smile and tells of his journey to the Ivory Pagoda. The cookies, obviously, are enamored of his tale. They swoon at the sights he speaks of, and they sigh at the mention of the Pagoda's famed steamed dumplings. They follow him all the way up to his office—which lies at the top of the Spire—chattering about what they all got up to while he was gone, and what questions they want to ask him. By the time he reaches his door, a crowd has begun to form all around him, jabbering about their inquiries. Not even a minute once he got back, and the Scholars already seem to have lost it.

A part of him really wanted to run into his office and close everyone out for the next decade.

But he couldn’t do that, despite the rising corruption, the happiness of his subjects is the most important thing. It’s what will help save them all.

So despite his growing claustrophobia, the Fount smiles and begins to attempt to answer the random questions he hears bouncing around in front of him. He doesn’t even realize that his back has hit the door of his office; he also doesn’t notice an audible click coming from the door behind him.

All of a sudden, he feels something catch on his arm, and just as fast as he notices, he is pulled harshly and is seen tumbling through a previously closed office door.

The second he’s in the room, the door shuts automatically, leaving gasps of both terror and shock to arise outside from the Founts sudden disappearance.

Still dazed, it takes him a minute to process what just happened. From the unexpected inertia, his ears are ringing, and he finds himself nearly face planted on the floor. 

‘Could this day get any worse?’ He thinks. 

Once he regains his bearings to sit himself up, he realizes that yes, his day is going to be a lot worse. 

Because right in front of him is one of the most irritating, confounding cookie he’s had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting on the entirety of Earthbread.

“-reminds me of the time when I dragged Teardrop Cookie away from the fountain one morning because she believed that drowning herself would cure her case of the flu! Not the brightest cookie, but she was funny.” He barely hears Black Sapphire Cookie’s annoyingly familiar voice over the loud ringing that now accompanies his mind. Part of him is really glad he didn’t hear the sentence. Probably would have given him a headache too.

His face must show how out of it he is, because Black Sapphire immediately says: “You didn’t listen to a single thing I said, did you? Witches, how old are you? One push and you can’t even gather your own bearings!” Black Sapphire then walks over and offers his hand toward the Fount to help get him off the ground he’s been accompanying for the last minute.

He begrudgingly takes it; he had grown quite accustomed to the floor.

He’s then dragged—again—till they reach his office chair, which isn’t that far. His office is a small yet comfortable circular room, it has splashes of blue, gold, and white through the few pieces of furniture he has, and there are large windows on each side showing the land of Beast-Yeast.

The most used part of his office is—obviously—his desk. He had received the gift from the Salt of Solidarity, but it clearly was made from the pale trees that grew in the secluded Faerie Kingdom. Either way, it’s one of his most cherished possessions.

There are papers and scrolls strewn across the pale wood, making a mess that only he could understand. He can’t remember what he was researching before he decided to embark on this strange plan, but he bets it was something interesting since he didn’t clean it up before his trip to the Ivory Pagoda.

But that can wait; he has other matters to worry about.

He’s brought out of his thoughts after a sudden push as Black Sapphire lets him fall into his chair.

“Gosh, since when did you become so heavy? Remind me never to help you up again, that was exhausting.” The grey cookie jests. “Honestly, with all your magic, why don’t you—I don’t know—float around?” Black Sapphire begins to walk away from the Fount chair and goes around to the other chair on the other side of the desk. “I think it will be much easier for you instead of bothering with a can of all things.” Black Sapphire then takes a seat right across from, beckoning the Fount to see if he can stay.

Now wasn’t that a thought. It’s not like he’s never considered it before; in fact, he’d much rather be able to float around wherever he goes(he has the magic supply for it). It’s not like he minds using his magic—he loves it—he uses it in front of the other Virtues all the time.

It’s just…it’s better if regular cookies saw him as… a regular cookie. A part of him thinks that people would like him more if he acted like others. And flapping around like a weird bird wasn’t exactly the most ‘normal’ thing to do.

Then again, maybe cookies would actually respect him if he started floating whenever he wanted to speak. An issue for another time, perhaps.

He ignores the gem cookies question and instead brings up his own, “Why are you even in my office? Last time I checked, all cookies who aren’t me aren’t supposed to be in here?” he added with emphasis, nearly glaring at Black Sapphire as the grey cookie put his legs up on the top of the desk.

“Well, I’m pretty sure we both agree that I’m not just ‘some cookie’ dear Fount,” Black Sapphire says, a smile gracing his lips, “I am, after all, your most favorite scholar! I think I deserve to visit you whenever I please, don’t you think?”

And Black Sapphire…technically wasn’t wrong. Depressingly.

The Fount would never admit it to anyone (especially to Black Sapphire Cookie), but he did always like Black Sapphire Cookie.

Unlike most Scholars, Black Sapphire never did bombard him with random questions like most cookies did. No, instead, he actually used his library and Spire to gather his own knowledge. Of course, he would occasionally ask a question or two from time to time, but they always maintained what he was studying. Plus, he never whined whenever he got something wrong. He instead accepted his mistake and moved on to the next topic.

And in the Fount's opinion, that is what a Scholar should be. Someone whose curiosity is so strong that they're willing to search for their own answers, and when they find the answer, they don’t hide away in fear, but instead embrace the wrong.

It’s refreshing to see someone share the curiosity he once held.

So whenever he hears a sporadic knock on his office door, he never hesitates to let Black Sapphire in. Over the last decade, since Black Sapphire graduated from the Blue Yogurt Academy, the two have gotten accustomed to each other's company.

The Fount would mainly sit at his desk, investigating an issue, while Black Sapphire would waltz in, gossiping about what some of the other ‘Scholars’ did throughout the day. And though the Fount never should condone gossiping, it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it.

Occasionally, Black Sapphire would ask a question. But instead of asking knowledge questions, the gem cookie would instead ask questions about him, usually something philosophical.

And the Fount loved philosophy; it was the one thing he could never hold a fact upon. It always changed whenever someone brought on a convincing argument. It’s the only topic he could be proven wrong in.

Plus, it was nice to be the topic instead of the messenger.

However, this time was different. The Fount was far too exhausted to engage in the studies he was engaging in before he left for the Pagoda. And Black Sapphire, probably sensing his tiredness, was keeping quiet.

The quiteness irked him in a way, so he decided that for today, he would be the one to ask a question.

“Black Sapphire Cookie,” the Fount began to ease into the deafening silence, “may I ask you a question?”

Black Sapphire jolted for a moment, not expecting the Fount to speak to him. But it passed quickly, and the cookie began to chuckle lightly, “Me? Aren’t you the Fount of Knowledge? You should know the answer.” 

“This is more a philosophical question than one pertaining to knowledge.” The Fount suggested quickly. Black Sapphire then straightened up, noticing the serious tone that lingered in his voice.

“Well, I can’t deny a being like yourself for such a thing, ask a way.” The cookie stated calmly, imploring the Fount to continue.

He has been doing that a lot lately, asking questions. Quite strange for him, the Fount is usually sure of himself. Well, actually, he does remember that in the past, the Fount never hesitated to ask about something. The Soul Jam of Knowledge beckoned to know all little things, and he was happy to oblige. But after centuries of living, he has found the truth about all things, so he should know the answer to anything he comes by. Yet he’s asking advice from his top scholar on matters that shouldn’t involve ordinary cookies. Very strange.

“Do you think the Witches were correct in baking of the Virtues?” The Fount didn’t look at the cookie across from him; instead, he decided to look out the window on his right. The Spire, thanks to its height and location, had the greatest view of all of Beast-Yeast. If he looked hard enough, he bets he could see the edges of Licorice Sea, but at the moment, he imagines he’s looking at a Pagoda that lies high in the mountains, mist flowing over it, making it look more mystical than it ought to be. He imagines what Mystic Flour is doing at the moment, but the thought brings sudden dread towards his Soul Jam.

“…what disturbed you enough to ask this question?” The Fount startled at the sudden, grave tone Black Sapphire took upon himself, enough so that he looked away from the window and made eye contact with him. 

“I asked you a question first, I would implore you to try to answer it,” he says instead.

Black Sapphire is still for a moment, staring at the Fount as if he just said something world-shattering. It doesn’t take long for the cookie to shift in his seat, eyes jumping to the windows in the office, most likely in deep thought.

After a moment, the gem cookie stares back in Fount's eyes.

“I think we are lucky enough that the Witches were kind in their choice. We both know how cruel they can truly be.”

Before either could respond to that statement, there was a harsh knock at the door.

Both of them jerked their heads to the door, not expecting someone to attempt to intervene in theFount’s personal study.

They remained silent, both hoping whoever was at the door would go away, but another—much harsher—knock resounded in the room. A chipper voice then spoke.

“I am sorry to interrupt you, Virtuous Fount of Knowledge! But you received a message from that of Ivory Pagoda, the domain of the Grand Virtue of-“

The Fount immediately got up and moved quickly to the door. Before the unknown cookie could finish their statement, the Fount yanked the door open with far more force than he intended, startling the young Scholar carrying the supposed message. The young Scholar squeaked, and they threw the slip of paper in their hands toward the Fount's feet. They then ran enough before the Fount could even identify them.

The Fount paid no mind, though, as he immediately crouched down ignoring the sudden pain to retrieve the paper that lay below him. After receiving it, he noticed the message to be a white envelope, and judging by the texture, it was made from spider silk, a clear sign that this letter came from Mystic Flour herself. And of course, cursive letters laid across the back of the envelope, saying: My Dearest Fount

He’s going to be sick.

He barely noticed Black Sapphire cookies standing beside him as he tore the envelope open, grabbing the letter that was left inside. Words filled the page, and each one was as cruel as the last.

‘To my friend,

I’m terribly sorry to do this so soon after our meeting, but our talk made me realize how little time we have left. As you already know about my little project, I’ll spare the details I left for the others. But I decided that I need to go through with this as soon as possible. I know you did not see eye to eye with me on this matter, but I truly believe that this will help cookiekind and overall, the Virtues. And if I am proven wrong, then I’ll be sure to heed your advice more often once I leave the cocoon. 

Oh, Great Fount, I can tell that you are fearful. Of what? I doubt you’ll ever tell me. You hide so much nowadays. I miss the days when things were simple between us Virtues, when we didn’t hesitate to meet with one another. That was another thing about your visit that made me realize how different we’ve all become. I can’t quite recall the last time we all enjoyed each other's presence. I know you are hiding something, but I trust that you didn’t tell me because you plan to have it resolved the second I return. I will not know how long I will be gone, but I wouldn’t mind if you came to visit. I may not be able to talk with you, but I’ll still hear your wishes. Don’t hesitate, I am always here.

With Hope and Faith,

Mystic Flour Cookie’

After reading the letter, the Fount felt his jam run cold. He really messed this up. Visiting Mystic Flour was only to ensure that her little cocoon was still in progress; he thought he still had months to convince her not to fully go through with it. He didn’t realize visiting her would cause her to go into her cocoon within a week. A week! They are all so done for.

He can feel himself starting to panic because shitshitshitsHITSHIT-

It’s fine. Everything is fine! He just needs to be more clinical about this. He still has time, and he can still fix this; he just needs to meet up with the other Virtues. Screw this attempt at planning; he should have just immediately gone to the Land of Spice. He’s wasting time sitting here doing nothing-

“What did the Virtue of Volition do? Is it what caused you to visit the Pagoda so abruptly?” He heard someone say.

Through the storm of thoughts crashing through his skull, he forgot Black Sapphire was in the room with him. Now thinking about it, he probably read the very personal letter between him and Mystic Flour. Beneath the panic, he started to feel an unmistakable rage at the thought of one of his most trusted Scholars peeking into his own business 

He must’ve looked pissed, because Black Sapphire immediately tried to justify himself.

“Heyyy, I'm a curious cookie! To be fair, you did not attempt to hide the words—“the Fount was glaring now “—OKAY! I’m sorry! …I know that was insensible of me.” Black Sapphire finally said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“…one day your own curiosity will be your downfall,” the Fount grumbled. He’s almost certain that Black Sapphire didn’t hear the words uttered out of his mouth, so the warning had no true effect. But it didn’t change the fact that the statement was true.

“...I need to leave for the Land of Spice-” he began to say as we walked over to his desk to grab the cane on the side of it, but Black Sapphire grabbed his arm before he could get too far.

The sudden pull hurt, but he paid no true time to express it. Still, Black Sapphire Cookie noticed and lessened his grip slightly. 

“But you just got back from the Pagoda, wouldn’t you want to rest?”

“I do not need rest, and I have urgent matters in the Land of Spice,”

“No need for rest?! You almost were knocked off your feet by just talking with the Scholars!”

“I deal with that on a daily basis, practically part of my schedule. A few questions never harmed me.”

“But still! The Spice Tribes are devolving into another Civil War. It would be stupid of you to leave when battle is on the rise!”

They’re starting to argue, which is unexpected from Black Sapphire; he always respects his decisions in anything they’ve done. But now Black Sapphire’s grip is becoming heavy, and his eyes seem to be frantically shifting from bewilderment and disbelief.

He doesn’t have time for this. He roughly pulls his arm out of Black Sapphire’s hand—causing the cookie to stumble—and the Fount turns to reach for his cane.

Well, not really cane, it just functions as one. It was a tall, golden scepter that had a large blue eye at the top. He mainly just used it for presentation, but over the years, he’s found it a lot easier to lean on whenever his body begins to crack and crumble. He ought to get an actual cane, but he doesn’t know how the Scholars will respond to him showing such vulnerability. The only people who even know he needs one are the Virtues (maybe that weird Faerie in the northwest) and Black Sapphire Cookie.

Speaking of Black Sapphire Cookie, he is currently standing still, looking like he just got struck across the face. If the Fount were in the mood, he would probably comment on it, but he needs to talk to the Herald of Change.

He attempts to quickly leave through the door to his office, but he gets stopped—once again—by Black Sapphire speaking.

“I know you won’t tell me anything, in fact, you’d probably lie to me if I even tried to ask-“

“I wouldn’t lie-“

“-But know that I will always stick by your side, no matter what happens.”

…Now this is getting awkward. Not that he doesn’t appreciate Black Sapphires…uhhhhh…confirmation of loyalty?

Actually, he really doesn’t know what’s going on; he doesn’t understand why Black Sapphire is saying this, it’s awfully out of character for him. he can't accept the idea that someone actually believes in him. Black Sapphire is truly putting his faith in the wrong cookie- Black Sapphire is supposed to be this renowned Scholar whose only joys in life were confirming his truths and gossiping about any Scholar that crosses his path. He’s not supposed to consider the Fount as some form of friend, especially a friend that apparently needs help; he should only see him as a courier of the Knowledge his Soul Jam gives forth. It's all very strange, and it provides more proof that this corruption is beginning to take hold cause what cookie in the right state of mind would be friends with him-

And maybe he could tell Black Sapphire that. Maybe he could speak about his fears. But the Fount knows he never will; he’s learned to find comfort in a lie because it’s the only thing he can be sure of. 

“I am simply going to the Land of Spice to meet up with the Herald. No doubt that he will take this harsh news far worse than the rest of the Virtues, so I think I should offer my aid to him.” He doesn’t…fully lie, he just avoids the true danger at hand. The uncertain stance Black Sapphire takes on shows that he knows this, but—as promised—he doesn’t speak on it. 

“I most likely will be gone for a while, as I plan to leave for the Garden of Delights as well.”

Black Sapphire finally nods at this, and offers, “That’d be wise. I’ve heard a rumor,” he pauses at his word choice, “well not a rumor, that sounds harsh. I mean to say that I heard that the Garden of Delights isn’t…doing too well right now.”

The Fount’s eyes widened at that; that was worrying news. “What do you mean? The Sugar of Happiness has always ensured security in her garden.”

Black Sapphire only shrugs, “With the Civil War between the Spice Tribes, I hear a lot of resources have begun to run dry. Even with the Knights of Kala Namak providing as much aid as they can manage, cookies are beginning to starve. And since the Garden is on the border of the Land of Spice…”

He doesn’t finish the thought, but both know how it finishes.

“I will be taking my leave then,” he turns toward the door, but he glances at Black Sapphire, as he notices the cookie begins to walk with him.

“It's a long journey, especially bound by foot,” Black Sapphire nudges his scepter for a moment. “Plus, I doubt you want to explain to your Scholars that you're leaving.”

The Fount shudders at the thought; he really has had enough of leading these fools. “What do you perhaps suggest, my most ‘esteemed’ scholar?” He adds sarcastically.

“I obviously can’t go with you, but I can ensure that you can get out safely.” Black Sapphire says this smugly—enough so that the Fount nearly kicks him.

‘I’m going to regret this.’ The Fount internally groans.

As if Black Sapphire Cookie heard his internal cry for help, he pats the Fount lightly on the arm. “Oh, please, all you have to do is follow me.” He adds while winking. They then both push the door open, ready for the steps of their apparent adventure. Black Sapphire looks at him and smiles.

“First things first, let's get you a carriage.”

Chapter Text

“Did you really think cookiekind deserved our sentiment?” She asked.

The sun was rising behind the mist, making the golden glow haze. Shifting as if the light's existence was nothing more than a mirage. The two of them were watching it rise together. Well, he was watching it; her eyes hadn't even opened since he struck this conversation.

“You can’t blame them for allll your wrong doings.” He mocks. “You kind of were asking for it by abandoning them, weren’t you?”

Her head shifted towards him, but her eyes remained closed. A part of him felt glad that he didn’t have to stare at the lifeless things she called eyes. But it still didn’t seem to hide the uneasy presence she now presented. Her simple, meaningless existence was a symbol of what the Virtues would become. Beings frozen in time, trapped at the point where they were at their worst. It’d be pitiful if a part of himself didn’t find peace at the thought. 

“Perhaps.” She nods. “But I do have a right to blame you.”

He freezes at that, but immediately recovers his stance and laughs.

“Ohohoahahaha—that’s funny! If only you could find a part of yourself to care!” He jests, but she doesn’t react toward the apparent insult. He really missed when she laughed, but he was glad that, in a sense, she was safe. 

‘But is she happy?’ He offers himself, but he opposes the thought, ‘Is anyone?’

He starts chuckling at the abrupt argument in his mind. He’s been doing it a lot lately; he can’t seem to decide what he really wants. Suddenly, he feels his dough drop cold, which causes him to laugh further.

She's now staring at him with those eyes. 

“In the end, it won’t even matter.” She shifts her gaze towards the sunrise. Internally, he sighs in relief, and his laughter begins to die down as she continues to speak.

“We’ll all return to flour by the end of this.”

He doesn’t disagree with her. He doesn’t plan to show his joy at the idea either.

The carriage jolts to the side, startling the Fount awake. Damn Black Sapphire and his ‘brilliant’ ideas. As the Fount's eyes began to adjust, he noticed that two Kala Namak Knights sat across from him, both fully donned in their armor. But as his mind fully begins to wake, he understands that his dream was far more telling than usual.

The Vision that once plagued his mind began to recede. He desperately tried to grab for something to remember, but it was like catching the wind between his fingertips; he never could hold onto it. Now the images barely even register, and the words he heard are a mumbled mess that’d give him a headache to decipher. He really is worthless. Even after years of having this troublesome ability, he can never get the hang of it. If anything, he’s almost certain that these Visions are only meant to torment, not actually aid him.

The Creators truly are cruel.

“Y-you’ve awoken, great Fount?” Exclaims one of the two Kala Namak knights that sit across from him, stutters out.

Oh. Yeah. He kind of forgot about the Knights.

It was Sapphire's ‘genius’ idea to smuggle him into a trio of Kala Namak knights. They apparently were making an expedition towards the Garden of Delights, but they decided to stop at the Spire of Knowledge for some sightseeing.

(Speaking of, when he meets up with the Salt of Solidarity, he’s going to comment on that because that should NOT happen on the job.)

Black Sapphire ‘convinced’ he bribed them, he literally bribed them with jellies the knights to sneak the Fount into their carriage. The Knights, still trying to comprehend that THE Fount of Knowledge was sneaking into their carriage, nervously agreed and threw the Fount in the backseat, driving away as fast as they could.

If the Fount experienced this situation any other time, he would probably investigate the probability that Beast-Yeast grew an abundance of Shroomies, and they were currently impacting the way everyone is acting.

But with the visions, and Mystic Flour’s actions, he has come to a different conclusion.

“Yes, I have awakened,” he says to the knight in front of him, “how far are we from the Land of Spice?”

The knight began to gather their composure and speak of their perilous journey from the Spire towards the home of the grand Herald. “Since you’ve been asleep since we began our drive, it’s been approximately a day and a half since we first left the Spire. We just recently crossed the borders, and we have been in the Land of Spice for 2 hours.”

“Huh, I was asleep for a long time-“ hold on a moment “-did you just say we’re in the Spice Lands?”

The second Knight, on the others left, nods eagerly, “Yes, esteemed Fount of Knowledge! Our map tells us that we’ll make it towards the Herald’s Temple in under an hour!”

‘Oh damn the Almighty, you’ve got to be kidding me.’ The Fount does not want to be with another group of bumbling fools.

“Have you ever gone to the Land of Spice?” He seethes out while the pair of knights look at him curiously, but the one on the right stiffens at his sudden tone.

“Well, no, we haven’t, we’re fairly new to the Knights, but we figured-“

“What cookie doesn’t—“ he’s too tired to do this lecture “—for any cookie who lives in Beast-Yeast, rule number one of traveling in the Land of Spice is Never. Use. A. Carriage,” he emphasized.

The knights are beginning to get confused. The one of the left chimes up again, “But using a carriage is the fastest means of transportation?”

…Yep. Idiots. The next time he sees the Salt, he’s going to yell at him.

“Yes, a carriage is very fast,” he replies sardonically, “but only when we’re on a dry, solid ground. Now I’ll beg the question, what is the Land of Spice most prominent of?”

“Uh…Spice?”

“Wowww, bravo, didn’t think you’d get that one,” the Fount rolls his eyes. He's probably very rude and not very ‘fountly’ at the moment. But if he’s being honest. He really couldn't care. In fact, why has he been caring at all? He’s the Fount of Knowledge, after all; these cookies really couldn’t compare to him. Of course, they're mindless morons. They’re not him. He is the symbol of perfection, he is the standard, and he ought to-

…he ought to put a stop to these disturbing thoughts. It’s not healthy to view cookiekind in such a light they are morons, and he should refocus his attention on the concerning conversation at hand.

“Apologies, that was awfully rude of me; it’s just hard to believe the Knights of Kala Namak don’t have the basic understanding of traveling through certain areas of the continent.” He attempts to reconcile. In a sense. But the Knights seem to appreciate it.

“Well, if we completed our training, perhaps. The Commander warned us that we weren’t prepared, but we couldn’t just stand by as we heard about the atrocities happening in the Garden!” The left states, the right nods along.

“…waitwait wait wait, you weren’t even supposed to be here?!” The Fount is seriously regretting the decision to let Black Sapphire plan how he got to the Land of Spice.

“W-well we’re more than prepared to take on the challenge! After all, Solidarity is about giving up everything to protect.” The right tries to defend.

“…did you even pass the trials.” The Fount states knowingly, and judging by the two now avoiding eye contact with him, he assumed correctly well obviously, he is the most impressive cookie-

The Fount gives a long sigh, which he’s realizing will not be his last. “You do realize that when I meet up with the Commander, I’m going to report on how you not only disobeyed orders, but also conned your way into getting that armor.

The two eyes widened, and they began to object but-

CREAK

The carriage was brought to an abrupt stop, and the two knights in front of him looked at each other in confusion, there was then a harsh knock in the door carriage, and the door was then yanked open.

The other two jumped at the sudden intruder, the left trying to grab his stolen sword, while the right practically fell out of their seat.

The Fount, the ever patient being he was, saw that the figure wasn’t some Spice Overlord—luckily—but instead the third and final knight of the group. She was probably in charge of riding the carriage till their next stop.

She looked winded, but she managed to speak through her wheezes, “The carriage, i-it can’t move!”

The other two became alarmed at this, but the Fount remained calm. He was honestly shocked that it took so long for this to happen. As the three began to argue, he decided to slip out the carriage to see the damage.

The moment he stepped out of his ride, he was meant by a harsh breeze and the view of the brownish red of spice that went on for miles. By the looks of it, the Knights and him were stranded in the middle of nowhere. After taking in his surroundings, the Fount decided to focus on the carriage itself. 

It was a simple thing, a mix of grey and white painted on the surface—a proud indicator that this came from the works of someone in the Great Baren—and it looked like it was being pulled by two horses. The horses are now just standing idly, probably very exhausted, judging by how they’re beginning to hang their heads slightly.

Finally, the Fount turned his attention towards the wheels of the carriage. Obviously, the front two were near red from the amount of spice caked on them, making them unusable. Plus, the left back wheel had apparently gotten stuck in a small hill of spice. One thing is for sure, they are not going to get this carriage moving any time soon.

He could barely hear the arguing of the three knights over the constant wind, which was beginning to concern him. Most people wouldn’t mind the cooling currents because they seem to dampen the scorching heat of the land. But harsh winds like the ones rushing through his robe are a tell of a Spice Storm coming through. 

Spice Storms were common, especially during the Land of Spice’s constant civil wars, since the crumbs of cookies gathered up in the spice dunes, making them more palpable towards wind currents. And judging by the distant haze on the horizon, it’s going to be a dangerous one.

“-I knew we shouldn’t have let you drive the carriage, you’ve always can’t get animals to listen to you Maldon Cookie.”

"At least I can read a map, you and Celtic Cookie can’t even tell the difference between a river and a lake!”

That’s his cue to intervene before the false knights start attacking each other.

“Hey, you three!”

The three knights seem to come to their senses as they remember that they’re traveling with the Fount of Knowledge, and they look over at him, imploring him to continue

“You should start moving before the Spice Storm sets in, you have time before it hits the area.”

The three look at him, a mix of confusion and terror at what he just said. Which, fair.

The cookie dubbed ‘Maldon Cookie’ seems to recover the fastest, but due to her distress, she kind of starts yelling at him. “A Spice Storm? How in the Creator's mind are we going to leave?! Our carriage just broke!” The cookie then groans in frustration, “This is all your fault, if you didn’t insist on coming here, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

From her outburst, the two cookies behind her flinched. Either out of shock that she actually yelled at the Fount of Knowledge, or in fear of what the Fount might do because he was insulted.

Truthfully, he couldn't care less about what a cookie thinks of him ironic given he constantly lies about the truth they’re so afraid of. In fact, a part of him realllly wanted to poke fun at how it was their faults that they were stuck in this position. But alas, a cookie loves to be right, so he didn’t bother arguing with her and proceeded to explain what they needed to do.

“It’s simple, really. All you three need to do is take your two horses and ride them out of the area.” He says while grabbing his scepter from inside the carriage.

And then, of course, they were back to questions because, sadly, cookies couldn’t use common sense.

“Are you kidding me? Our horses are practically dead on their feet!”

“We’ll never make it to the border. It took us two hours to get here, and it’s nearly sundown…” 

“There are only two horses, how are we all supposed to fit on all of them?”

He really can never get a break, can he? Even if the world were ending, he’s sure some cookie would still have the gumdrops to complain to him about some issue that hardly pertained to them. (The world IS ending) Well, hardly matters, a part of him hopes he’s crumbled by then. (And if he isn’t, he’ll probably do it himself because what immortal would want to face the end of the world alone-)

“There’s a Kulfi Village nearby, close enough that you can make it with your horses. Also, can’t you guys walk? You have legs, you know.” He adds, for good measure, he’s almost tempted to say that they need it to teach them hardships if they ever want to be knights.

The three of them sputtered for a moment, but they must have found no argument because they started to pack the things they needed for their journey.

The Fount didn’t really help them since it wasn’t his job to ensure that inexperienced cookies had all their utilities. This moment was probably a good lesson for the three.

‘Isn’t that what Mystic Flout Cookie said to do, let the cookies figure out their issues by themselves?’ A traitorous truthful part of his mind inquired.

‘This is different,’ he tells himself, but he couldn’t find a reason why.

After a couple of minutes, the group had gathered their items, and they were about to move towards the Kulfi Village. But as the Knights began to leave with their horse, they paused because they realized the Fount wasn’t walking with them. In fact, the Fount looked like he was about to head in the total opposite direction.

“Hey! Where are you going? The storm is going to hit soon.” Says…uh. The Fount thinks that it was Celtic Cookie(?), he never really got their names. He just didn’t know it’d be important. He also didn’t think it was neccesary to explain his own actions, but cookies must still be curious individuals, hopefully.

“As I said at the beginning of this journey, I need to see the Herald as soon as possible.” He said simply, barely looking back at the three, but he did hear a few gasps.

“Are you serious, that's still an hour away! You’ll be blind in the storm at that point!”

The Fount nearly laughed at the sentiment. “I’ll be fine, I was made by the divine dough of the Witches after all. This storm will hardly frazzle my hair.” That was a lie, he’s going to have spice stuck in his clothes and hair for weeks. But still, he knows he’ll make it.

The three fake knights didn’t seem too sure, but they knew better than to object, so they said their goodbyes, and they went on their ways.

The Fount really does not want to see those idiots again. He has far worse concerns at the moment, like the spice that is starting to surround and consume his vision.

‘I really hope the Herald will have a spare robe somewhere in his temple’ he mourns as he covers his mouth to try his best not to inhale the crumbs.

“We will enact this meeting of the four major Spice Tribes that each hold property in the Land of Spice. This trial is by means a civil discussion, anything that is said or done will be observed under the eyes of our Great Herald. You may now commence the proceedings.”

The Herald of Change was monitoring a meeting.

The Tribes, always disagreeing, called an audience with him so that he could hear their cases, and ultimately decide the best way to resolve this Civil War. The Herald doesn’t remember what started this war, but he thinks it was due to the sudden creation of a fourth tribe.

Originally, there were three tribes. But recently, an apparent fourth one run by Anise Anteater Cookie decided to ‘borrow’ territory from Cumin Mamba Cookie’s tribe.

In retaliation, Cumin Mamba Cookie complained toward Cayenne Bull Cookie. However, instead of allying with the snake cookie, she ended up pointing out that Cumin Mamba didn’t have the capability to own that much territory anyway after he lost it so easily.

Cumin Mamba did not like that. He ended their conversation by punching her in the face and leaving to take back his land.

Cayenne Bull was pissed after that and attempted to destroy one of Cumin Mamba’s villages. However, the lack of knowledge in maps led her to actually destroy Coriander Panther’s territory.

Cue another, repeating war that was only going to end with tribes more annoyed than united. At least they all agree that the Herald is allowed to have a word in their affairs, even though they don’t actually listen to him. They mainly do these trials to have an excuse to yell at another in a space where it’s ‘legally’ allowed. A part of him probably should be furious, but he technically didn’t want to involve himself in cookie affairs at the moment. He held the belief that change is more resonant when made by the cookies themselves. 

It was Cumin Mamba Cookie that began the trial, slithering as he went.

“I find that my tribe wassss treated unfairly by Anisse Anteater Cookie.” He slurred his words together like the literal snake cookie he is. “My fellow sssspice cookies were sssubjected towardsss harsssh treatment assss we were forced to leave our homesss, left to rot in the rising ssspice ssstormss.” He placed a hand over his chest and looked down to feign grief.

“Oh, shove it!” The anteater interjected, her red cloak swaying as she began to furiously point at the snake cookie in an accusing manner. “You Snakes insulted my tribe by insinuating that, due to our armored skin, we were cowards! Ironic given how fast you ran when we rightfully reclaimed our land.”

“Your land? You dare lie in front of the Grand Herald of Change? That wasss our land!” Cumin Mamba hissed, baring his fangs at the anteater.

“Correction. The land you two fight over originally belonged to our tribe.” The new voice belonged to Coriander Panther Cookie as he stood stoically beside his newly appointed lieutenant. “We graciously offered it to the snakes as a truce, but clearly that choice was a mistake as you—“ pointing at Cumin Mamba— “lost it so simply to a newcomer nonetheless.

Both the anteater and snake were about to object, but Cayenne Bull Cookie pounded her fist on the table and voiced her opinion first.

“Graciously? From the way I saw it, you gave that land up because you didn’t want to trade with our tribe. You felines threw that land at the snakes because you didn’t want to interact with us.

“You dare speak ill intent? Last I checked, I wasn’t the one to rampage your land!!”

“…to be fair, it wasn’t my intention to invade your land, it’s your fault for positioning yourselves so close to Cumin Mamba’s tribe.”

“Excussse me, what?! You tried to invade my tribess land!!!”

“Too bad her brain is far smaller than her form, a waste of potential if you ask me.”

“Why you-“

The voices started to mix and clash as the ‘discussion’ continued. But the Herald still didn’t see the importance of stopping the fighting anytime soon. He knew they wouldn’t actually crumble each other in his presence, he just needed them to properly air their grievance while he thought about the letter that had just been sent to his temple-

BANG

He nearly flinched at the sudden shake, preparing himself to stop whichever Tribe Leader decided to enact violence in his presence. But he stopped as he realized the four leaders were still shouting away at another, not noticing the sudden noise that echoed in the temple. The Herald shifted his eyes upward towards the large entrance of his temple and realized the source.

A Spice Storm. The reddish crumbs were being tossed through the wind, running to form a fright to behold if he weren’t used to seeing them after his thousand years running the land. It honestly brought a sense of calm to him. Despite the winds shaking the temple walls, it reminded him that there were other important matters to think on rather than the pitiful squabble the tribes got into this time.

The Herald let his gaze drift along with the wind, following the lines of crumbs and spice spinning in the sky. He heard most cookies feel sick at the thought that the very weather of the land was drenched in the jam and crumbs of cookies that had fallen victim to the wars that plagued the dunes. He might be hypocritical to think, but he finds that if he were to die, he wouldn’t mind dancing through the wind for the rest of his eternity. He hopes that those who have crumbled hold the same joy.

If he could die, maybe his thoughts would change.

Change…a fickle thing really. It’s the purpose of his entire existence, but he can’t really account for anything different in the last millennia. History repeats itself, and it’s eerie. Perhaps if he made an effort in organizing these tribes, he could enact true change. But a deep part of himself doesn’t know if he can keep sane if he actually tries. Imagine giving it your all and realizing that you’ve made no progress. The thought ought to make any cookie go crazy.

It’s probably pathetic that after millions of years, he hasn’t noticed any significant difference between when he first founded the Land of Spice. For being the Herald of Change, it seems he’s actually… not good at the very thing he was made for.

Now he’s starting to understand why Mystic Flour Cookie was thinking of starting an early retirement.

“Know what, I’m done with your poisoned words. I say we take our rage and use it on the battlefield. Those who agree with me say ‘Aye!’”

The room then exploded with loud cheers of ‘Aye’ which started the Herald away from his dissociative thoughts. Of course the tribes' only agreeing opinion was that of killing each other.

Apparently, during his spiral, so much time had passed. The Spice Storm that he had been watching began to die down, and the sun was lowering beyond the horizon.

As the Tribes began to stumble out, the Herald sighed in relief and began to rub his eyes. “That’s at least over for now.”

He begins to get up and heads off to his quarters to finish some affairs. But as he turns from the table, he almost runs into a cookie.

“Herald of Change, I have an inquiry that I must ask, if I’m allowed of course,” she says, while attempting to bow her head to show respect. By the looks of it, the Heralds believe that this is the newly recruited lieutenant of Coriander Panther Cookie’s tribe, Nutmeg Tiger Cookie if he recalls correctly. 

“Of course! A question is always appreciated in this time of change .” He boasts. The tiger cookie gains some confidence, and she raises her head to face him straight on.

“As you know, I have just earned my rank as lieutenant, and it's a great honor to my tribe,” he nods along as she speaks, allowing her to express her worries.”But I am terrified of what this war may bring, it is my first time leading in an actual battle, and I don’t know how I’ll fair. Compared to my predecessors, I am not as experienced, and I lack many talents that a lieutenant should have.” She draws out as her form starts to shake. 

He looks into Nutmeg Tiger Cookies eyes and sees uncertainty at what’s to come. Thinking about it, he never really considered that his denizens were horrified at the idea of death, it was such a common occurrence that he thought they were used to it by now. But realizing it, he probably doesn’t understand because he has never had to fear for death like they do.

This doesn't mean he has no care for his people. Its just…gets easier to deal with them crumbling after a millennium.

The thought sticks in his mind for a moment, but he shakes it off as he realizes he needs to answer Nutmeg Tiger Cookie’s question.

“Do you ever enjoy watching a storm?” 

The tiger cookie looks at him strangely, confused at the unrelated topic. Her face causes him to laugh a little, but he coughs it down to ensure she doesn’t feel bad.

“It’s perfectly fine if you don’t, every cookie has their different joys in life. I merely ask, "What do you notice whenever one hits.” He offers instead, and Nutmeg Tiger Cookie begins to ponder.

“Well, I’ve never thought to check. Each storm I’ve witnessed never has been the same so I—“

“Exactly!” He shouts, interjecting as he raises his four arms to his chest, crossing them to show his approval of the answer.

The tiger cookie jumps at the loud response, so he softens his voice down, “Think of cookies being similar to the storms you speak of. Some are loud, some are soft. Some are predictable, some are unexpected. But one thing for sure is that they are always different from each other. Every wind holds a different blow, each lighting shakes a different way. We all are different and changeable in terms of nature.” 

He decides to look beyond the widened arch of his temple, and he can see the Spice Storm that once hammered against his home now die down to a simple breeze in the midnight sky. Nutmeg Tiger Cookie follows his gaze, eyes shining with awe as if she’s looking at something she’s never seen before.

“Nutmeg Tiger Cookie, you will not be like your predecessors, and perhaps you lack the skill that they held,” he adds as he faces the dying storm up ahead, “but I can see that you will be an amazing lieutenant for your tribe. Though I don’t choose sides in the midst of war, I will cheer for your battles.”

The tiger cookie’s eyes began to soften as he continued to speak, and she turns her gaze away from the breeze to now look at him, “Great Heral- I-“

“Nutmeg Tiger Cookie! I need your assistance for—“ Coriander Panther Cookie begins to approach the two, and he stops in tracks when he notices the Herald standing in front of him. “—Great Herald! I’m so sorry to interrupt your conversation with my lieutenant, it’s disrespectful of me.”

“Nonsense, we were nearing the end of our conversation anyways.” The Herald shifts towards the panther cookie, and then begins to gesture towards Nutmeg Tiger Cookie. “It seems you’ve chosen a great second in command for your tribe.”

Coriander Panther Cookie laughs while Nutmeg Tiger Cookies face flushes with embarrassment.

“That's why I chose her! She will do well in the upcoming battles, especially against the other tribes. Buffoons they ought to be, I tell you.” Coriander Panther says as he shakes his head.

“I’m sure you two have important matters to attend to, so I’ll leave you be.” The Herald says to avoid another hateful rant from the panther cookie. The two cookies in front of him bow their heads, and he returns the favor. He then turns away, and begins to walk down the towering corridors of his temple.

He hears the two talk quietly, planning strategies and schemes to employ when the war goes into full effect. He silently hears the softs pads of steps as they begin to leave the temple. Most of the tribes and leaders have already left, taking the chance of the peace from the previous Spice Storm to reach their territories without running into a scuffle with another tribe. The corridors, once loud with shouts of fury, have become quiet with a few sounds of shuffling priests as they attempt to clean any messes they find in the blessed estate.

It was quite serene, a perfect breeding ground for the bumbling and disruptive thoughts that often find time to corrupt his head. He’s been getting distracted lately. The days seem to go far too fast, and his Spice denizens' lives pass twice as quickly. He’s been lucky to not notice the sharp developments, but Mystic Flour Cookie’s letter raised some concerns that he has been avoiding as of late.

The concept of change. 

As the Holder of Soul Jam of Change, it’s his entire essence to represent the power of novelty. But what does that even entail? Is he supposed to embolden the cookies around him to not fear the differing climate, or is he supposed to envoke the change itself? Centuries have passed, and he has yet to understand the true reason he was baked.

‘What have I even done with this life?’ He asks himself internally, and before he could go down another spiral of self-doubt, a sudden noise catches his ears.

The Herald of Change is quite attentive, he has to be to notice the small differences in his kingdom, so the sudden noise made him stop his mindless wandering that he’s been partaking around his abode.

‘Was that the sound of someone running?’

The Herald turned toward the sudden sound of footsteps clambering through his temple, trying to register who had the mind to run at this late hour. The quiet temple was very open, so it echoed whenever something was disturbed. This would often annoy the priests as they found that the atmosphere of his temple should be left undisturbed. So when he noticed a figure begin to run through the temple, he also noticed the priests beginning to shout ‘hearsay’ and ‘disrespect’ for the simple atrocity of making a noise.

The Herald honestly found it to be funny.

As the figure began to get closer, their appearance became more apparent and—is that the Fount of Knowledge?

Yes, it was a very red looking Fount as he was covered from head to toe in spice. His hair looked as if a hurricane passed through it, and he was sneezing up a storm. Still, the Fount was clearly determined so he kept moving until he was panting in front of the Herald.

“You *pant* would not believe the day *pant* I had.” The Fount exclaimed, one hand around a cane while the other was on his knees, as he forced himself to take some breaths.

“I can tell, I almost didn’t recognize you. Decide to change up your hair? It definitely is a unique choice.” The Herald gestures towards the wind-shaped hair while chuckling at the Founts demise.

“Oh hardy har, let’s all laugh at the fool shall we?” The Fount rolls his eyes, but the Herald can see that it holds no true frustration behind it. “You wouldn’t have a spare robe, would you?”

‘Turns out the Herald of Change did have a spare robe. Thankfully.’ The Fount muses as he attempts to pull on the white cloak that Herald had thrown at him. He believes it must’ve belonged to one of his priests as the Herald had a…very ‘expressive’ attire. Not like him to judge (actually he judges a lot), but the Herald's clothes were far too revealing for the Fount himself, so,  he was glad to have a robe—though short—to wear while he attempts to wash his regular getup.

Speaking of, he and the Herald were at a lassi hot spring, one of the few located in the Land of Spice, to attempt to remove the spice that gathered in his clothes, his efforts are proven to be ineffective as his hair still falls with spice every time he walks, but it’s fine. Talking with the Herald is his biggest concern.

“What brings the Fount of Knowledge to my temple in the midst of a Spice Storm? You’re not one to show without a warning.” The Herald begins while he crouches near the lassi to test the temperature to see if it’s worth getting in.

The Fount shifts uncomfortably, attempting to adjust the loose white robe given to him to hide his nervousness. He didn’t know how to explain his side of the story this time.

The last time he attempted to confront a Virtue on their concerning habits, he ended up convincing the Virtue of Volition to go through with her plan earlier than intended. He did not want to mess up with the Herald, he tends to be less predictable than the others. But what to say? 

He can’t tell the whole truth, the Herald already was dealing with a lot with the ongoing war, he didn’t want another issue on top of that.

But he couldn’t lie fully either, he already did that with Mystic Flour Cookie and it effectively failed.

Maybe…

“I’m guessing you received the letter from Mystic Flour Cookie?” He says, dropping his hands at his sides to try to stop himself from fidgeting. He noticed the Heralds hand freeze above the lassi, but in a blink of an eye, the Herald composed himself, and looked up to meet the Fount’s eyes.

“Is that really the reason why you decided to visit me?” The Herald’s eyes were blank with an unknown emotion. It unnerved the Fount to see such a ‘plain’ expression on a sporadic figure.

“Yes, it is.” He lies. “I was worried about how you would take the message, you two were good friends after all.”

All of the Virtues were close with one another, but there were some relationships that were closer than others. The Herald and Mystic Flour were an example of that. They weren’t as close as the Angel and the Knight, but any blind cookie could see the two held more care for each other compared to most.

The Fount suspected it was in relation to their Virtues. Mystic Flour Cookie believed that the choice a cookie makes is the most important aspect of an individual. The Herald of Change found that actions were more impactful when made by the cookies themselves. Plus, the two loved their art. Whenever the Fount thought of the two, he always remembered them explaining how the cookies in their respective kingdoms would create the most beautiful trinkets and architectures. The Fount himself would often join as well whenever his mind was enamored by the differing and evolving culture of nations.

“Hm, well I appreciate the gesture.” The Herald took his hand out of the hot spring. He then looked at his palm. “This spring is far too cold for my liking.”

“Of course it is, you spice cookies always find scalding heat equivalent to a breezy day by the Licorice Sea.” The Fount crouches down next to the Herald, leaving them both sitting on the edge of the hotspring.

The Herald is still looking at his palm.

“Are you upset at Mystic Flour's decisions?" He inquires.

“Of course not,” the Herald seems to break out of his trance and shakes his hand in the air to remove the lassi stuck on his hand, “her choice is important, and I know that her efforts will be rewarded accordingly.”

The Fount nods, faking his agreement in the statement.

“But I do wish she told us at our last meeting. I don’t understand why she would hide it.” The Herald lets his hands fall and looks out across the hotspring, vision swaying its attention on whatever he can catch his eye on.

The Fount’s face contorts at the Herald’s statement.

 “Did you two meet up recently?” He asks.

This causes the Herald of Change to turn his towards the Fount, eyes alight with confusion.

“What do you mean? We had a meeting with all of the Virtues just a few months ago.” The Herald states, his smile brightening as he seems to remember their time together.

The Fount, however, feels his jam begin to freeze.

“I don’t understand,” He wearily adds, “we Virtues haven’t had a meeting in forever.”

The Herald’s smile begins to tighten, and his eyes rise up in question. “No, that can’t be right. It was in the Great Barren, surely you remember.”

The Fount does remember, practically impossible for him to forget. Not only due to him being the Holder of the Soul Jam of Knowledge, but because of the strangeness that meeting held.

The Salt of Solidarity was the one to host the meeting, which was extremely rare. The Commander never liked hosting meetings in his home, he felt it might be disruptive for his Knights so he always opted to travel. But this meeting was purposefully called by him. During their discussion, the Commander explained that he may be out of commission for a while as he was pursuing a project in line with the Faerie Kingdom.The Fount remembers the face of the Sugar of Happiness, she was awestruck at the news and demanded the Holder of Solidarity to explain what he was doing with the Faeries, but he remained silent and spoke that it was private, and would be revealed when it was finished.

“But that meeting happened three…decades ago,  not months.” The Fount hesitantly adds.

“Oh.”

“…Are you—“

“Fount of Knowledge, may I ask for your opinion?” The Herald interrupts and shifts his head to face the Fount, but his eyes remain on something across the room. The Fount tried to follow his gaze for a moment, but whatever the Herald had his eyes on was so obscure that not even the Holder of Knowledge could capture it.

“Of course, what plagues your mind dear friend.” The Herald chuckles at his response and finally shifts his eyes towards his face.

“Nothing too drastic, just some thoughts.” The two sit in silence for a moment. The sour smell of the lassi fills the air, and it does little to calm the Fount down from his raging thoughts. The Herald obviously isn’t to set in his mind, but the Fount can’t tell if it’s due to war ravaging his land, or if there are ‘other’ forces at play. If the Witches did care for his predicament, he would have prayed to the Creators for it to be because of the former.

“Do you ever question why the Witches baked us five in the first place?” The Herald finally suggests, now looking upward as if asking the Almighty themselves. “Did we really have a purpose other than existing?”

The Fount feels believes he’s brushed this topic before. With Black Sapphire Cookie. Still, it was a difficult question. Philosophically speaking, there’s no true way to answer it, and he doubts he ever actually will. The Almighty were cruel, they created cookies originally as nothing more than a common delicacy to share amongst friends. But then some Witch had the brilliant idea of incorporating magic into the very dough that they baked with. Cookiekind was never supposed to exist. It was simply an idea that exploded into a disaster when the Witches actually succeeded in creating life.

But they still were here, despite their strange upbringing. 

“The entirety of our existence—cookiekinds existence—was built from a question, you know?” The Fount offers instead. “Our purpose merely was a test for the Witches to understand the extent of their powers.

Yet, I don’t think that means we have no reason to exist. The Witches may have created us for their own experiment, but it worked. They were able to create an entire society capable of their own feelings. We five were just given a guideline. Our soul jams are an opportunity, a gift from the witches to finally guide our kind toward a wishful future.”

The hotspring, once shrouded in darkness with nothing but the pale moon to light its surface, began to lighten as the sun began to rise somewhere in the east. Little by little, the rays began to warm the desert, and though small, made the Fount squint when he caught sight of the glare.

“But even if we choose our purpose, what are we supposed to do when we realize that we’re failing?” The Herald questions as he shifts his gaze away from the rising sun, and back toward the Fount. 

“Great Fount, these last few years have been hell. My mind feels like a fog has descended upon my priorities and warped them to become something unrecognizable. I now feel numb at the sight of my denizens dying. I barely shift when I hear news of villages being destroyed. I fear I have drifted so far from my originating beliefs that I don’t even remember what I was striving for.”

The Herald grabs him by the borrowed cloak and forces him to face him.

“What is wrong with me, Keeper of Knowledge.”

The grief in the Herald’s eyes shakes the Fount. Never should his bright and vibrant friend be exempted to such dreadful thoughts. But to tell him the truth? Describe to him the horrors he’s seen in his barely registered Visions? pleasepleasePLEASE

No, he can’t. This is mission, and his alonefoolfoolfoolfoo. The Herald has far too much to worry about. He can wait to tell the Herald all of his worries when there isn’t a civil war on the rise.

But what to say? The last time this happened, he said nothing at all and that led the Virtue of Volition to enact her project far faster than intended.

But if he says too much, the Herald will involve himself, which is not what the Fount needs at the moment. what to do what to do what to do what to-

Oh! It’s quite simple really. The Herald asked him such an open-ended question, it’s possible to pull a little fib to keep his friend's mind clear.

“Grand Herald,” the Fount raises his hands to grab the Herald arms, attempting to steady his friend from going down an inner turmoil, “have you considered that you're just…somethingsimplesomethingeasy-bored?”

The Herald jolted in his arms, and his eyes widened in exasperation, “Bored? That’s—“

“Accurate?”

“No, no. That’s not right. Being bored would imply that I—“ the Herald sputters for a moment, not convinced on what bull the Fount’s spewing. “—that I don’t—“

“My friend, since when have I been wrong in my assessments?” The Fount insists, trying to get the Herald back on track.

“…Well you hold the Soul Jam of Knowledge-“

“Then we shouldn’t be arguing about this, frankly it’s an insult to my intellect.” The Fount tries to joke, but it rolls off dry on his tongue, like a rolling pin against flour.

The Herald finally stops trying to object to the Fount and instead tries to let his hands fall down to his side in defeat. The Fount, however, still holds onto his arms as they fall which causes them to raise half way, looking as if a puppet's strings were cut, but the conductor refused to let the performance to end.

“You just need to try something new. Invest in a new activity to keep you focused.” The Fount adds for good measure. “Everyone goes through this. We all find ourselves in little funks, but it gets easier after getting used to it, you know?”

“…Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course I am, it’s literally my job to be”

The Herald laughs at that, his eyes that once were blank with uncertainty lighting up with something akin to acceptance. The action finally lets the Fount let go of his arms and lean back to enjoy the familiar moment.

“If I weren’t so tired, I’d argue with you. “ the Herald then gestured towards the rising sun that was now barely above the horizon. “We’ve been here all night.”

“What can I say, I’m just sooo interesting that you had to spend your lovely sleep time with me instead.”

The Herald shoves him at that, hard enough for the Fount to nearly fall into the boiling lassi.

“Hey! Don’t you dare cause another mess.” The Fount threatens, but the Herald laughs even harder, enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“HAHAH! Please! The lassi would do you some good, just by sitting you’re leaving a mark of spice.” 

As if to prove his point, he grabs the Founts head and shakes it, causing more spice to fall to the ground.

The Fount grabs the Herald’s hand and shoves it away. “Ugh, remind me next time to not visit you. I’ll just send a letter.” 

The Herald silently snickers, but he doesn’t make any more attempts to disturb the Fount. In fact, the two both decide to look back at the sunrise and enjoy the rare moment of tranquility on the eve of war. Strangely, the Fount feels a sense of deja vu staring at the sunrise with someone by his side.

He must have dreamed of this.

After a few minutes, the Fount finally stands up, forcing the Herald that was sitting beside him to stare up in confusion.

“My next stop is the Garden, leaving now might guarantee me to make it there by tomorrow's noon.” The Herald below makes a sound of acknowledgment, nodding as he processes the information. The Fount takes that as his cue to leave so he grabs his spice filled robe and staff, and begins to leave the hotspring, but he doesn’t get very far as Herald suggests:

“Maybe I could join you? It’s a long walk, and knowing you, you’ll probably pass out half way there without someone nearby.”

The Fount turns around to face the Herald, and he guesses his face announces how weirded out he is because the Herald chortles.

“B-but don’t you have a war? Don’t you need to, like, observe it?” The Fount argues, but the Herald smiles on and waves his hand as if to brush something away.

“The Tribes figure everything out themselves. Plus, didn’t you say I should try something new. Going on a road trip surely is a new experience, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Fount groans internally. Nothing against the Herald, but he doesn’t want to risk slipping tongue around him. His stress levels are so high that he might explode.

‘But wouldn’t having a friend in the journey lessen the pain? It might be fun!’ His mind traitorously supplies.

“…fineee, you can come.” The Fount finally sighs out, he walks all the way back to the sitting Herald and offers his hand, “but are you sure the tribes won’t mind?”

The Herald snickers and grabs the Fount’s hand. “Please, I doubt they’ll even notice I’m gone.”