The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

Coin awoke to a darkening sky, the twin moons looming high above him. A weak groaning noise formed in his throat, the mimic trying to force himself upright. He ached from end to end, in a way he never had before.

"E-Elijah!" Essine called in a panicked voice. "He wakes!"

Elijah's wrinkled visage soon loomed over him, the older man tutting. "Calm yourself, lad. You're among friends," he said, settling his hands on the mimic's shoulders to keep him from rising.

"Where are we?" Coin warily asked.

"We set up camp a little ways out from where we found you. That explosion, whatever it was, that got us running over here," Elijah explained. He sat back and sighed. "I gave you some medicine to dull your pain, but I'm no healer. How are you feeling? Anything broken?"

Coin shook his head. He could sense the inner workings of his body with greater clarity than a human could, able to sense the state of his bones and muscles. Slowly, subtly, he began to mend the damage with some of his latent biomass.

"This one found you in a crater, surrounded by dead greenskins. But nobody else was around. What happened?" Essine asked.

Coin grimaced, thinking back on the last thing he could remember. It had all happened to fast, a rush of force slamming into him at terrifying speeds. And try as he might, he couldn't fathom what he had done to warrant such a reaction.

Even when he'd been a normal monster, humans had attacked him in self defence. He couldn't recall doing anything aggressive toward the elf, nothing to warrant nearly being smashed into a pulp.

And so he recounted the story, deciding not to mention his shapechanging, and when he spoke about the dark-skinned elf he could see Elijah growing uneasy.

"Fiodor," the old man said, paling. "Aye. Heard of that one. Chancellor of magical affairs in Arcadia, and said to be one of the nastiest people to serve under Velasco. You didn't necessarily do anything to set him off, lad. He's just a prick who has it out for humans with magical potential."

"And is the world full of... pricks like him?" Coin asked.

Elijah offered him an apologetic smile. "There are a few elves who get queer and territorial around magic. It's an ancient thing. From my experience, most don't care. But those who do..." He grimaced and glanced off to his side. Coin followed his line of sight, to the distant crater he had been blasted into.

"And this... Fiodor? He is allowed to hold power?" Essine asked. A visible shiver rocked her body. The kobold seemed quite shocked to know injustice was not something exclusive to her people. It was a kind of equality, at least.

"A prick he may be, but he's undeniably a prick with considerable magical knowledge and ability. He's personally welded shut portals to the Bleak, and even warded away a dragon when it threatened Sentinel," Elijah explained.

Essine's fur fluffed outward. "D-dragon? There is a dragon near the city?"

Elijah shrugged. "There was, years back. Don't know where it roosts nowadays, probably eastward by Mount Reiss. Wouldn't worry about it, were I you," he said, describing the dragon with the same one would use to describe a slightly annoying dog. "Well, anyway, he's said to be one of the strongest wizards in all of Arcadia. And considering who he serves directly under, I can see how he'd end up being so insecure about humans using magic."

Coin huffed, sinking back into his bedding. He reached over, gripping at his tunic. Still in place, fortunately. If Elijah had tried to remove it, then he likely would have been aware of just how alien Coin actually was.

"So he attacked me just because he has a grudge against humans?" Coin asked, looking up at the moons. "I don't understand."

"Intolerance is hard to predict and harder to understand," Elijah replied. Essine looked away at his words. "Ah, Essine my lass, I think the stew should be fine by now. Would you mind taking a look at it?"

"Oh, of course. There are a few spices I wished to add," the kobold said. She swiftly rose and scurried away, moving toward the warmth of a crackling campfire.

Silence fell between the two men, Elijah's expression slowly growing more grave. "I was about to check you for any broken bones before you got up. Might as well get around to it now. Come on, take your tunic off."

Coin's blood ran cold. His clothing felt like normal fabric to the touch, and even rustled about as one would expect it to whenever he moved. Yet it was ultimately an extension of his flesh, joined and held in place by linking membranes on his shoulders and back. 'Removing' his clothes would be akin to removing a swathe of skin.

He held a hand aloft to keep Elijah at bay. "I'm fine, really. I'm sore is all," he said, wincing and propping his weight on his elbows. "I'd know if I had anything broken."

Elijah frowned. "You might have some damage you're not even aware of. The human body is tricky like that."

Coin wanted to laugh. The old man had no idea how right he was. "I'm fine, really." He raised the hem of his shirt to expose his slim upper body. "See?"

"No... bruises? None at all?" Elijah asked, blinking in confusion.

The mimic flushed. "I had a magical barrier that absorbed most of the hit," he said. Which was at least partially true. "It's... well, magic allows for a lot of toughness,"

"I suppose. But it's a damn miracle you weren't hurt worse." Sighing, Elijah turned toward the nearby road. "That bastard. Heard tell he could be cruel and violent but I never thought he'd attack a stranger on the road. Bad sign when he's making the goblins look nice and reasonable in comparison."

Coin lowered his shirt as Essine returned, a pair of steaming wooden bowls clutched in her grasp. She handed one to Elijah, who graciously accepted it from her. The kobold knelt beside him, managing a weak smile. "Eat, please. It will make you feel better."

He leaned over for a better look at the dark brown broth in the bowl, chunks of meat and diced vegetables floating on the surface. Essine moved with care, fishing a spoonful up and holding it out for him. And, slowly, Coin ate the offering.

"This one was worried," Essine said, her ears flattening against the sides of her head. She offered him another spoonful. "The explosion this one saw... it was something that filled me with fear."

"I'm okay, I promise," Coin replied. He saw the worry in her eyes, the sad twitching of her whiskers, and felt a pang of discomfort swell in his stomach. Guilt, perhaps, for making the kobold worry Whatever the feeling was, he didn't like it.

But what he did quite like was Essine's cooking, greedily devouring each spoonful offered to him. Elijah was a good cook, it was true, but Essine absolutely blew him out of the water. 'Spices', it seemed, were the key difference between the two. And the pleasant burn in every bite reminded him of the delicious tang of the fried chicken from Wheat Valley.

A great warmth filled his gut by the time he finished, and Coin did indeed feel better. Yet, in the back of his mind, he could not help but think back on Fiodor, the look of disdain the wizard had worn on his face.

He hadn't done anything to deserve that, nothing to warrant being nearly killed. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. He gripped the top of his bedroll, squeezing it until his knuckles paled.

Coin wanted to get some kind of payback, to show Fiodor that he couldn't get away with things like that. But that could come later, he tried to tell himself. When he had a better grasp of his own magic.

"Thanks, Essine," he said, smiling over at the kobold. She smiled and bowed in turn, before scurrying off to clean the empty bowl. He turned to Elijah, who was slowly finishing the last dregs of his stew. "We continuing on toward Sentinel?"

"Are you able to travel?" Elijah asked, not looking up from his bowl.

"I should be. A night's rest is all I need, I promise."

Elijah gave him a wary look, arching on eyebrow. "You best not be lying to me," he said, pointing at the mimic with his spoon.

"I'm being totally honest," he lied.

Elijah sighed and set his bowl aside. "Fine, fine. I'll take you at your word, as strange as your condition seems to me. Come morning we'll continue on, and we'll be in Sentinel before you know it. Ideally without another fight kicking off along the way."