Домагой Курмаич - Mother of Learning

Daimen’s little plot worked perfectly. Fortov did show up, looking for Zorian’s help in procuring an anti-rash potion . Zorian had already made the necessary salve before coming here, so he just handed the little jar full of salve to Fortov and sat back to finish the cup of tea he ordered.

Fortov looked down at the cure jar in his hand, fingering it awkwardly, and frowned at him.

"You just… happened to have that very specific cure lying around in your pocket?" Fortov asked Zorian incredulously. "What the hell, Zorian? Do you carry a whole apothecary with you at all times or something?"

Well, the way his pocket dimension creation skills were advancing, that might actually be a possibility in the future.

"I knew you’d be looking for that," Zorian said. "I spoke to Ibery, after all."

Fortov’s face twisted in surprise.

"She spoke to you!?" he asked, shocked. "Oh man… why me? Look, I… thank you for this, but–"

"You pushed her into that purple creeper patch deliberately, didn’t you," Zorian said, not really asking so much as making an observation.

"It’s not that simple, okay?" Fortov said defensively. "You don’t know what she’s like. I know she looks quiet and all, but she was being really aggressive and wouldn’t take no for an answer and she kept trying to kiss me and… I guess I went a little overboard."

"And a purple creeper patch just happened to be nearby?" Zorian asked. Fortov’s explanation was great and all, but how did that explain Ibery ending up in in that bush every single time?

"I deliberately took the purple creeper related task when they were distributing class assignments, because people usually avoid them like a plague. But that didn’t deter her this time. I guess in retrospect it would have been smarter to take something where lots of other people would be nearby. At least that would stop her from trying to get physical with me…"

Zorian was going to inquire more about this, but this was the moment that Daimen finally showed up to crash the meeting. Strange… he actually kind of wished Daimen had taken longer to arrive. The story was just getting interesting…

"You again!" Fortov hissed, giving Daimen an angry glare. "Why can’t you take the hint!? And how the hell are you even here? I thought you were supposed to be in Koth!"

"Please, I just wanted to talk, okay? Why are you being so…"

Zorian leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of his tea, and mentally toned down the volume of the shouting going around him. So much for the idea that Fortov would hold back because they were in a public location. But it didn’t matter because this was Daimen’s stage now and there was no need for him to get involved.

Well, there wasn’t any need for it until both of them decided to pull him into their argument just because he was there. And because his smug attitude pissed them off, apparently.

Sometimes he just couldn’t win.

The evening was a pleasant one, with cool winds blowing through the streets of Cyoria and the moon shining brightly in the sky. Zorian took it all in, feeling somewhat invigorated by the evening chill, and thought about life. It was interesting, Zorian mused, that even after all these years spent in the time loop, some simple experiences had eluded him until now.

Getting thrown out of a coffee shop for disturbing the other customers, for instance, was an entirely novel experience.

He glanced to the side, where Daimen and Fortov were currently having a tense face-off, staring at each other with serious expressions. He wasn’t even angry, in all honesty. Yes, being ejected out of the building was mildly embarrassing, but it didn’t bother him all that much. What did bother him was that even after causing such a commotion, they still failed to even establish what the problem was. Honestly, these two…

"Fortov, look…" Zorian began cautiously, "I understand you being mad at Daimen but you’re only shooting yourself in the foot here. The reason Daimen sought you out is because he wants to know why you’re angry with him. If you want to get rid of him, just tell him what your problem with him is and he’ll go away. Well, probably."

"Don’t you start," Fortov said, giving him a suspicious frown. "You helped him set this up, didn’t you?"

"I didn’t ask you to seek me out," Zorian pointed out calmly. "You decided that on your own. And nobody forced you to stay around and argue with Daimen, either. You already have the salve you came for, no? You could have just picked yourself up and left the moment Daimen showed up. That’s what I’d have done in your place. The fact that you stayed around means you do want Daimen to know why you’re angry after all."

For a second, Fortov just stared at him, a stony expression on his face. It was a somewhat alien look on the normally amiable Fortov.

"I so want to punch you in the face right now, you smug asshole," Fortov eventually said. "But I suppose there is something to that logic, so I’ll restrain myself."

"Finally," Daimen mumbled, just loud enough for both of them to hear him. "All this dancing around and refusing to say what’s bothering you, I almost thought you had turned into a woman while I wasn’t looking."

Fortov glared furiously at him, to which Daimen reacted only by rolling his eyes. Thankfully, the shouting didn’t start up again. It seemed that Fortov had gotten his anger out of his system a bit.

"Right, now, just before the nice waitress asked us to leave the premises, I believe you were saying something about your problems with the academy being Daimen’s fault?" Zorian prompted. It was in his best interest to help Daimen get his answer now, or else the man would no doubt make more annoying plots like this one in upcoming restarts.

"Which is ridiculous," Daimen butted in. "We barely even interacted with each other by the time Fortov started attending the Academy in Cyoria."

"Yes!" Fortov said, pointing his index finger at Daimen with a stabbing motion. Then he repeated the gesture for emphasis. "Yes, that’s exactly my problem! We barely interacted at all!"

"What?" Daimen asked uncomprehendingly.

"You don’t even know what I’m talking about," Fortov said, more as a statement of fact than a question. "I think that’s what pisses me off the most about this. You don’t even remember! You’ve completely forgotten all about your promise!"

"Wha- What promise?" Daimen fumbled.

"You were supposed to help me!" Fortov burst out, pointing at Daimen again and then hitting himself in the chest with a closed fist to indicate himself. "Remember? I came to you before enrolling here and asked you if I could count on you to support me when I run into troubles at the Academy, and you said yes … you said I could always come to you for help if I needed it and that it’s no issue, no issue at all…"

Daimen visibly winced at those words.

"Oh," he said weakly. " That ."

"Yes, that ," Fortov said sullenly. "I was such a fool to actually trust you on that. What good is a promise like that when you’re always busy with something, always unreachable and brushing me off when you’re not? You probably forgot about that promise the moment you made it… if you ever took it seriously at all."

"I made that promise in good faith," Daimen protested. "It’s just that I had some professional opportunities come up afterwards that were too good to let go. Don’t you think it’s kind of unreasonable of you to expect me to sabotage my career just to help you with schoolwork? I mean, you could have always just asked Zorian for help instead and…"

Both Fortov and Zorian gave him a glare for that. Daimen considered his words for a moment and then mumbled something that was either a quick prayer to the gods or a colorful curse before dropping the idea and moving on.