"How is he?" "Let's see... Thoth is as warm a person as a stove in deep winter." "The house?" "...what do you mean?"
"The state the house is in." "Of this stove? Excuse me, but that was merely me speaking in metaphors. If you need to know, you can imagine the house as being just like my saloon."
The grandmother stopped cuddling the little thing, looking over here, her eyes judging as well as filled with... pity?
"So he's as much of a father as a pebble stuck in dung." I stifled a peal of laughter there. Comparing Thoth in all his glory with a roadside pebble made me laugh.
Yet only until I realised what that meant for my prized saloon. Since it had somehow become part of this comparison...
I felt bad. Like really, really bad. So much so that my hands refused the glorious task of polishing my dearies.
Only with the passage of minutes did this become better. "Milk!" She eventually demanded, tearing me out of my sulking mood.
"I don't—" Casting a little spell on a flask of fresh milk held under closed bars from the neighbouring store made it possible to fulfil her command.
"Here you go, grandmother." "Hm!" While she fed the scrunchy face, stopping the unruly little thing from not complying with her two old, steely arms, she looked at the bottle in her hand with suspicion.
Milk... Meanwhile, I couldn't help but groan in silence. First, who the hell would order milk in this fine gentleman saloon?
My clientele was composed of adults, not kids. Second, hoarding milk behind the exalted counter was like insulting my other fine beverages.
Third... I did actually stockpile on milk in the past. Just... its shelf life wasn't anything to write home about, so I found myself disposing of the spoiled mess more often than was good for business.
However, the look in her eyes didn't allow for refusal. She was the expert on the topic, a woman who had always put everything into raising the little ones.
In short, she was a passionate specialist. One with enough bite to demand milk even from the king himself if need be.
And Gods too, apparently. "How is he?" "I... answered your question already." "No. Not entirely. His behaviour?"
Some things were hard to understand for mortals. I had to explain the obvious, it seemed. "Thoth is a scourge, a vengeful ghost, a butcher without conscience, a scholar fated to be remembered..."
By the time I realised how many gorgeous descriptive words I'd used to describe my dear friend, her face looked already worse for wear.
"Don't misunderstand. An equal exchange is of unparalleled importance to us. Fret not, the flute on the table is... worthy."
She looked down on the instrument where she failed to see past its mundane appearance. Yet that was good too.
Should I've told her instead that when blowing into it, she'd get any one wish fulfilled? Even if it meant becoming the one and only Mortal Empress by divine grace?
If I'd learned one thing over the endless years of service, it was that mortals hardly ever thought things through. So her getting access to something like this was a first even for me.
But that only underlined how helpless Thoth truly was when it came to the little one. In any case, who was I to trash-talk?
There wouldn't be any immortal out there disputing my bottommost ranking on the parenting ladder. I was worse than Thoth, for sure!
"Boasts... but there is always some truth to fantastical claims. Should do... must do... sell?" I simply had to turn my head out of her line of sight, my lips twitching as if I was suffering from a spasm.
Bang!! Suddenly, the door to my prized saloon was kicked open with so much force, the hinges crumbled to pieces as it hit the wall.
"Customers—" "Where is the foul creature? Lowly peasant, traitorous peasant, where have you hidden the daemon?"
The man at the forefront of a gaggle of paladins glanced fleetingly across the interior, his disrespect and disregard plain to see on that arrogant face of his.
Clad in pristine white armour, he didn't say a word, letting the other man beside him do all the talking. Or rather, the insulting.
"Heinous bastard—" "Dear. Customer. Your aggression helps you little in my famed saloon. What can I bring you?
Is it ale you seek or something stronger? Darker perhaps?" The grandmother beside me was shivering in fright, her bent back bent downwards even more.
It was evident just how great her wish was to sink into the ground, unseen. The few other customers too weren't in the right state of mind.
"This little..." "[Spear of Light III]!" It all happened too fast. Something hit me on the breastplate, sending me backwards and crashing into my brittle collection of dearies.
I remained suspended and impaled on the wall for as long as the darn spell needed to run out of energy.
"Arrest everyone. Find out who they are and what they do. The people they've come into contact with. We need to stop this brainwashing by any means necessary."
From afar, I hear someone bark commands. But it didn't want to register in my ears. One glance at the ground below made me realise that what I feared most had happened.
My dearies... gone. All the expensive trinkets I've tolled away for centuries to buy... gone. Tinkets with meaning... all bloody gone. And with them my calm. It all went up in smoke.
"Fucking savages!" My snarl was all that was required for my believers to come to my aid. The seal separating me from the incomprehensible brabbles they interpreted as heartfelt prayers was no more. "Rrrraaaaahhhhhh!!!!"
My saloon... turned into a graveyard of sorts. All kinds of undead came crashing through the dimensional crack my leaking divinity riddled the place with.
I grabbed the little one, grabbed the arsehole, sole survivor of the foolish bunch, and rushed far from here, leaving behind tears and good memories alike.
Thoth, that bastard, had it coming! "It's always me to clean up after your mess! Even in this mortal realm, I'm destined to do the fucking same!!!! Any yet I have to save you still..."