The Courier’s Undying Duty

Set in the same world as: Water: Maybe TM

‘Ahhh, there you are, my sweet, sweet, prey.’ Thought to himself a small person, hidden well in the shadows under the roof. A man in rich clothes stood by a table in his personal quarters on a luxurious ship. He was examining a box that was well decorated with jewels. He jumped from 1 beam to the next, quiet as could be. Shadow lurking in the darkness. Unseen, unheard, undetected, unexpected. He drew his dagger, and then jumped. 

He left as quietly as he had entered, undetected, unexpected, with his prize in hands. The ship was about to set sail, he had just enough time to leave it. 

“Well done, well done.” He commended himself. “Undetected, unexpected, like a…” He paused, pondering for a moment. 

“Diarrhea” Commented a random guy leaning against a light post past which the small man walked.

“Di..what? No!? Like… like a… storm!”

“Pardon me good lad but a storm can be seen approaching from many miles away.” The small man pondered. “True… Ah whatever! I’ll make a new slogan for myself.” He left, and pondered hard over a new slogan as he walked back to his base. The Charmed Box of Eternity that he held in his hands was supposedly an ancient artifact that only the grandmages could open to reveal the secret inside. It would sell for a high price. But now wasn’t the time to try to pry it open, it was time to grab a snack!

“Andddddd done!” Said a blonde catgirl as she sealed an envelope and planted a kiss on it, leaving behind a cute kiss mark. She signed it. “To Pres, from M’iyu.” As she handed it to the courier she grabbed his wrist and glared into his eyes. “No matter what, this letter has to get to her! Understood?” The courier smiled at her confidently. “You have my word, mistress! I will deliver the letter to your loved one!” 

Off in the far far, far far far west, very far west, so far west it was almost east again, in the wizard’s tower, an archmage made a mistake, a grave mistake that people of this world would never learn of, but will remember for the rest of their lives. He made a pact with a deity that forced all and any promises made that night to be upheld. No matter the cost. And unbeknownst to the courier, his promise to deliver that letter was on that night too. 

He walked and walked and walked some more. It’s been two days, his stomach growled, time for a snack, a meal truly worthy of one’s life, for he, the courier, found himself in the town of Borgir, that made the most legendary, well known, juiciest cheese-borgirs in the whole world. Many would cross oceans just to savor the world’s best cheese-borgir, and he thought himself lucky to have come across this town on his journey. 

He stumbled into the ‘beef-o-rama’ tavern where the legendary borgirs were made, and sat down. Stomach growled so loud that other patrons threw glances at him. But there was no time to fret. To a question about what he wanted by the waitress, he demanded a cheese-borgir of legend, and so his request was granted. And as he was about to take a bite from his cheese-borgir, lightning flashed and thunder clapped, the door swung open, and through it entered, a small menace! 

The small man wore a green outfit, a strange, jeweled box in his hands. He walked confidently through the tavern, jumped up on a table and then he demanded. “ONE CHEESE-BORGIR! NOW!” 

But his demands were met with hesitance. “We..we’re all out of patties, sire.” 

Anger filled his eyes. Frustration filled his thoughts. 

He glared around. No, not him. They could not reject him. He was the legendary assassin. The unexpected, undetected… He forgot to make a new slogan, but he was still a legend among the living legends, of which there were only 6 left in the world. Among them, the lazy Nerlin, a wizard so mighty he could flip the world upside down. A witch that caused mayhem wherever she went. The bunny… let’s not talk about the bunny. The dragon that spewed not fire but laughing gas, and of course, he, the unexpected, undetected, unpredictable… The assassin!!! 

The legend did not take no for an answer! Unexpectedly, he leaped from 1 table to the next, where the courier was about to take a bite of his delicious, legendary borgir. “Give me that!” He demanded. “Uhh, no, sorry lad, you might be unpredictable like diarrhea, but I’ve a job to do.” He remembered, the man who forced him to reconsider his slogan, it was this man, this very man, that was about to eat the borgir he, the legendary and unexpected assassin, craved so much.

The courier did not care for the living legends, nor the dead legends, nor did he expect to become 1 of the legends. He bit into the burger. The delicious juices squirted out as he bit into it. The tender meat practically melted on his tongue. “MMMMHHH SHHOOOO GOOD!” He spoke his last words, as the unexpected and undetected assassin’s blade sunk right into his heart. He was no more, but the letter was to be delivered. 

Next morning he awoke in darkness, covered in something. Half a day later he crawled out of his own grave. “Gahh! Bloody bastards buried me alive!” He complained as he proceeded to clean the dirt out of his hair and pockets. “Well, not quite.” Echoed a voice in his head that he ignored while continuing to complain. “No! Seriously! The audacity! Some people have no respect for us, couriers.” 

He checked the letter, it was intact and clean, only suffering 1 small stain, but then he realized he was drenched in blood, his own blood. A puncture wound on his chest went right through his heart. “That’s odd..” he thought to himself examining the wound and his discolored skin. 

“You’re DEAD.” 

The courier shrugged. “I noticed! Who speaketh anyway?” 

“Your consciousness.” Replied the voice in his head. 

“Ah great, dead and insane.” 

And then he walked and walked, and while walking he thought. 

“There is a bright side to this…” 

“Ah yes?” 

“Aye, no more food stops and no more getting killed over a legendary borgir.” 

“Fair…” He commented out loud as he patted his pocket with the letter in it. “Duty comes first now, literally at that.” 

A while later, thought popped up in his head.

“Say… Do you like brains?”

“I mean… not really?” 

“Ah good, because yours is rotting away anyway. So, how’s the walking?” 

“Well! We made it quite far..” He said as he glanced over his shoulder to realize he in fact did not make it very far because his muscles are quite stiff and he’s walking like a badly rigged marionette.

“Shouldn’t you change your pronouns?” 

“What? Why?” 

“Well, there’s two of us now, so it’s a we and not an I?” 

“Soon it’ll be we, the pile of bones, if you don’t shut up and stop distracting me from walking!” He complained while trying to walk better, but still stiff as a stick. 

The walking was awkward. Days passed, and then weeks. His muscles dried out and his body collapsed and withered away. 

Thunder roared and lightning flashed! It rained hard, a true downpour. “GOD DAMN IT I FELL ASLEEP!” 

“But did you have any bone-chilling nightmares? Hehe” 

“No! It was dark!” 

“What a bare-bone sleep you had…” 

“Oh shut up!” 

“Easy now, relax, take a deep breath, oh wait, you can’t… You know? I heard exorcising might help us.” 

The wet, drenched skeleton kept walking. Step after step. His bones clicked and joints grinded, held together by a promise that could not be broken. A day passed after the rain. His clothes dried as did his bones. 

“Break a leg!” 

“No thanks” 

“What happens if a magic undead breaks a leg anyways?” 

He walked on as the heat of the sun dried him out. His leg fell off. “I said break a leg, not lose a leg, moron.” 

“Shut up!” He called out as he hopped back on 1 leg to pick up the other. A hop later his arm fell off, and then the rest of his body collapsed. “Hah! Now WE are a pile of bones indeed! How ironic” 

It was a month of drought, not a drop of rain to moisturize his bones for a whole month. Farms dried out, the country was in a dire situation. But at last, it rained, and he came to life once more. 

“Ah! I get it, you need to moisturize yourself!” Remarked his consciousness as they, the bones, assembled into skeleton and marched onwards once more. 

“Feeling thirsty yet? Have you tried chewing something and swallowing the saliva? Heard it helps keep the throat moist…”  

Dried once more, they rested in the forest until the next rain. After months of travel they found a river and followed it upstream, making sure to stay well hydrated. 

“We need a name, how about.. Moist Bones?” 

“Necromancer..? Lord Bones?” 

“Bone Daddy!!” 

“No! MOISTOMANCER!” Years passed, but the debate went on. 

“Listen…” 

“What?” 

“I said listen! Open your ears you fool!” 

“I have no ears…So, what we listening for?” 

“Music.. Off in the distance. How about we learn some instruments? How about… Trom-bone? Would be quite fitting.” 

They patted their pocket and checked the letter’s condition once more. “No, no no! We must deliver the letter!” 

“Right, then we can learn hip-hop. We got the hop down already, when we don’t fall apart after it…” 

Years after years of walking endlessly when wet, and resting tirelessly when dry. The Bones Curier – name still being debated on, awoke from something he wished he did not. 

“Yo! Dude! Come check this out!” Called out a teenager who was playing in the forest. 

“What ya got there bro!?” Replied the other kid. 

“Uhh, I found bones, dude!” 

“NO WAY!” The kids poked at the pile of bones, they found a leg a few meters away, an arm in between, and then the main pile by a tree, as if leaning against it to rest. 

They played with the bones, made fun of the bones. They discovered the letter and nothing else of value. They stuck the foot into the ground like a flag, tied up the arms to the tree as if making a scarecrow, the skull was put on a pedestal and surrounded by sticks in a pentagram fashion. 

But once bored of it, they left. But before leaving they thought it would be funny to urinate on the main pile by the tree, and so they did. What happened after is something they’d never forget in their lives. The bones sprung up and assembled, and chased them down the forest until they dropped the letter they had found before. 

Another century had passed, and then once more. Winters were bone-chilling, and empty, there was no rain, the bones laid dormant under the snow. Weathered and tired, the bonerier – name still being debated, continued onward with his journey. He watched the world change before him, it was becoming less alive, people were becoming spineless. None interacted with him as they did in the past. 

He sat at the curb outside a pub, pissing off drunk people hoping one would smash a bottle on his head, or splash a drink onto his face. “Man, you so skinny you may as well be called a skeleton.” He tried to tease a skinny man waiting for his taxi, but the efforts were in vain. “Hey, you know what could really tickle my ribs? Anything…” He joked to another drunk man while lifting his cloak up, revealing his bones. 

A drunk girl slumped down beside him. He looked away. “Hey girl… wanna polish my bone? It’s aching…” She jumped up and threw her drink into his face, wetting his bones and the cloak in the process. “AT LAST! WETNESS!” His leg reattached and he clacked off, sprinting down the road. 

“What happened to society? Went from alpha-predators and hunters to spineless weaklings… A bunch of marrow-minded sheep I tell ya.” 

“They’re just trying to make their ends meet, no matter the cost.” 

“Hah! As are we!” 

They remarked. The adventure went on, and society kept changing. But he, no, they, the couriering bones, were approaching the tailbone of their adventure. This was the end, it was in sight! Inside of an apartment building, with secure locks. 

It took another week or so to formulate a perfect plan to get inside. A plan that consisted of detaching limbs and throwing them on people’s balconies. Then wait for rain, and reassemble on 1 of the balconies! It worked! Mostly, his shin bone got nibbled on by someone’s dog, but that wasn’t a big deal. 

She got up from her computer when an ad on the twitch stream started playing. “DAS BLAU! FERULA BLAU! Purest water in the world! Pumped from the deepest aquifers, filtered and purified, but the minerals stay in. Ferula Blau, quench your thirst.” The ad showed a swordsmith quenching  a sword in a bucket of Ferula Blau. She went to her fridge and grabbed a bottle. 

He hid his face by the oversized hood of his ragged cloak and knocked on her door. From inside he heard a meow. “Nyaaaming” she called out. The door was opened by a blonde girl, with cute cat ears and a fluffy tail. 

She smiled at the stranger. “Bonjour.” He tried to hide his boney hand in the oversized raggedy sleeve as he reached for the letter. She was before him, the 7th reincarnation of the girl to whom he was supposed to deliver the letter. She was ever cursed to reincarnate over and over, for that night, she promised to herself she would await the next letter from her beloved M’iyu. Just as he was cursed to roam the world until he at last found her to deliver the letter. 

She accepted the stained old letter from the stranger. “Courier?” She inquired. He nodded. “Ah, must’ve been a tiresome trip.” She remarked, examining his ragged clothes. “Long journey, personal delivery.” 

She smiled and held out the bottle of water to him. “Would you like some water? Ferula Blau, purest water in the world.” He gasped excitedly- “FEMUR-A Blau? Water made for me!”  He grabbed the bottle and twisted the lid off, then splashed it over his body. His femurs never felt better before. Confused, she closed the door after wishing the stranger well. Satisfied he was for his promise was upheld. 

She opened the letter and read over it. Love, promises of devotion, and a ring. He left the building and glanced at a dog that drooled while staring at him. “Bone-apetit…” He said as his body collapsed into a pile of bones, never to be reanimated again.