Miracle Worker

Fyora’s smile is hopeful, brimming with forced positivity and a tinge of desperation.

King Altador ignores the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and inform her that she’s decidedly and utterly wrong.

The sounds of harsh arguments continue to filter through the balcony doors behind them. It’s gone on long enough that the voices can’t even be distinguished; everyone is angry. Nobody is happy.

King Altador isn’t sure if a Day of Giving miracle could even fix it, let alone a party.

Fyora’s grin is fragile. He doesn’t want to be the one to shatter her optimism, however misguided it is.

“Very well,” he agrees. Something crashes in the room behind them and he promptly pretends not to hear it. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll be back in three days time.” Fyora looks towards the sky and its mingling colours, the inevitability of sunset. “The faeries need assistance with helping Neopians with the festivities, but I’ll be back to hopefully an improved environment.”

“If fate permits.”

There’s a thud, a yell, and further arguing. Altador is internally praying no one has resorted to fisticuffs.

“I give you my blessing.” Fyora lifts a hand and sets it upon Altador’s brow. It does help marginally; he sighs as his impending headache ceases, and he feels a bit more invigorated to take on the task ahead of him.

“I wish you luck.” In a blast of pink and glitter, Fyora is gone. Altador tries to withhold an eye twitch as a small explosion shakes the building.

The concept of early retirement was looking better by the second.

~*~

Altador was no stranger to last-minute arrangements. The Altador Cup tended to bring its own slew of self-contained issues with exceedingly small windows to fix them, and he had his tricks to get things under control.

Namely, sorcery. Because only magic could fix the impossible.

He’s lucky enough to have two sorcerers at his disposal. Jerdana is fairly compliant and enthusiastic about the task he gives her. King Jazan, less so.

“This is ridiculous,” Jazan mutters as Jerdana lays out an empty scroll to begin listing their necessities.

Altador fights back a sigh. “My friend, I know it’s not customary to use your magic to create garlands and decor, but I have…rather limited resources…”

“Not that,” Jazan shakes his head, eyes narrowed. “The concept of this…this distraction helping with the animosity in this group! Parties don’t fix whatever that is.”

He jabs a thumb towards the group at the table. There’s still yelling, mostly between King Skarl and Lord Darigan. King Hagan and King Roo attempt to jump in on intervals, and King Kelpbeard has his own pieces to add. Queen Nabile and Queen Amira merely look on, maybe a bit amused.

“Lost causes,” Jazan continues. “I suggest you cut your losses now.”

King Altador rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not the type to give up easily, Jazan.”

“It’s King—“ Jazan huffs, finally turning his attention to the growing list in Jerdana’s hands. “Forget it. I’ll retain my right to tell you I told you so.”

Jerdana’s brows lift as she regards Jazan with a sly look. “I have a feeling you’re the one to be proven wrong.”

Of course, Altador’s council held the most faith in his ideas. He at least had that going for him.

~*~

There is one new guest who’s been exceptionally quiet, flitting in and out of the war room with the skittish nature of a Miamouse. The Ogrin — Orion, Altador believed was his name — was a man of nervous nature and fretful gazes, with the type of demeanour that suggested he expected to be locked up for the crime of existing.

Not Altador’s first choice when it came to requesting ideas for the holiday spirit, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Orion, mind if I borrow you for a second?” Altador manages to catch the haggard man before he has a chance to slip away again like dust in the wind.

Orion blinks. His eyes look as if he hasn’t slept more than a handful of hours. “Ah, Your Majesty? Or, uh, your highness? No, your majesty…”

“Altador is fine,” Altador assures. Unlike most of his current companions, he wasn’t much of a stickler for titles. “Relax, no, you’re not in trouble. I’m looking for some ideas to carry out for a holiday event taking place soon. Perhaps you know of some good… team-building exercises?”

“Oh?” Orion adjusts his glasses, but the effort is futile; they slip right back down his muzzle, but he hardly seems to notice as he rubs thoughtfully at his chin. “White Elephante perhaps? I’m not very good at the whole…holiday spirit thing? I’m not sure what I can provide.”

“Whatever you can,” Altador assures honestly. A sudden explosion throws a gust of wind behind him, and Orion yelps and shivers as Altador winces. Everyone in the meeting room turns to see a mess of soot and pine needles in the sorcerers’ corner.

“We’re okay!” Jerdana assures, wiping soot from her eyes. Jazan coughs up a mouthful of pine.

“…anything you can,” Altador clarifies, and Orion only looks stricken.

~*~

Queen Nabile is a sneaky presence in the room. Altador wasn’t too well-versed in her background, but he’d heard something or other of her status as a reformed thief, like one of his own council. If that held any truth, she certainly acted like it. She appeared to slip in and out with the blink of an eye, her absence largely unnoticed, her presence highly subtle.

It’s an unexpected moment when she appears under Altador’s elbow, a stack of tins in her hands. “King Altador!”

“Ah—“ Altador lifts his elbow away, turning to her with all the shock of a startled prank victim. “Oh, Queen Nabile! You…when did you get back?”

“I’ve been back,” she replies cryptically before lifting the tins into his hands. “Here. I’ve acquired some supplies.”

Rather suspicious. Uneasy, Altador lifts the lid of one of the tins and finds an array of colourful cookies within.

“Oh! Holiday treats!” He finally accepts the stack into his hold. “This is actually a marvellous idea.”

“I find that empty stomachs cause the most arguments. Maybe this can help.” Nabile grins, and it’s a smile of mischief and nobility. Such a strange mix. “Sugar fixes everything, right?”

“One can hope.” Altador replaces the lid before pausing, realizing the containers aren’t the ones from his castle’s kitchen. “Ah…where did you get these?”

“Hm. I think Amira is calling me.” And Nabile flits away, ducking out of the interrogation with practised ease.

Altador tries a page out of a thief’s handbook and tastes a cookie. He decides he’d let their origins stay a mystery, for the sake of not allowing good cookies to go to waste.

~*~

The culmination of Altador’s efforts make something…worthwhile, he thinks.

Jazan and Jerdana display a new tree of Giving, alight with baubles and garlands and twinkling lights. It’s fairly rooted in reality, with only a handful of scorch marks and desert sand residue. Orion returns with a cart full of wrapped presents, odds and ends that he’d bought from the market for the intention of White Elephante. Nabile and Amira work to create a spread with the cookies, a gorgeous assortment of fruit and sweets available to grab.

Altador is pleased. Not bad for a day’s work. He orders everyone to sit around the table, covering the rather imposing map of Neopia on its surface with a red tablecloth covered in holly decals.

“What is this nonsense?” King Skarl barks, as Orion dumps his armful of gifts into the center. “We’re in a crisis! This isn’t a time for…for celebrating!”

“We’re at a standstill until Baelia and Nyx return,” Altador informs patiently. “The rift researchers have also slowed. Dr Landelbrot needs days off too.”

“Darned union,” Jazan scowls, before Jerdana prods him to shush.

“The grey curse has slowed considerably,” Nabile adds, as she carefully pulls a present from the pile to shake it curiously. “I’d imagine we could all use a refresher.”

“And a cookie!” King Kelpbeard happily munches on a Jinjah-shaped sweet.

“So! Does everyone know the rules for White Elephante?” Orion grins uneasily, before withering under the blank stares in return. “Ah. Right. Well, uh, one person chooses…any gift! And the next can choose to grab a new gift or steal the gift the last person has chosen—“

“Seems like something that would go on for ages,” Lord Darigan scowls.

“So more time for fun?” King Roo tilts his head in Darigan’s direction, a hopeful smile stretching as Darigan rolls his eyes. “Come on, this sounds great! Games galore! May I go first?”

Altador nods. With a bounce, King Roo grabs the biggest package in the centre and jostles it in his hands.

Darigan stares. After a fleeting second, he turns his gaze away from the box in King Roo’s hand and silently slides the smallest gift towards himself.

Altador grabs his own. Orion chooses to steal King Roo’s gift. Nabile steals Altador’s. Amira steals Nabile’s. Gifts begin to switch hands on a dime, flying across the table, but the actions are punctuated with surprised gasps and stifled laughs rather than insults.

So far, so good. Altador tries to relax as he watches the game unfold.

The delight is fleeting. He should’ve foreseen it.

Skarl steals King Roo’s present. He grins, shaking the box exceedingly hard, and the fight begins.

Darigan sneers, leaning over a deflated King Roo. “Couldn’t help but get your dirty mitts on someone’s property, ay?”

King Skarl jolts, red-rimmed eyes glowering. “You—that’s the game, you dolt!”

“Funny how you’ve done nothing but steal.”

“Funny how you’re the first to complain!”

“Oh, no,” Jerdana whispers, and Altador whole-heartedly agrees.

Remarks begin to turn into yells. King Hagan joins in, ripping his present open and shaking the contents — a single small red comb — into the air, with the complaint of a lack of budget.

All chaos breaks loose.

Amira snatches a cookie and takes the opportunity to fling it at Jazan’s head. Kelpbeard quickly gathers an armful of cookies as he backs away to stuff them into his mouth. Orion hides away under the table as more cookies fly. Nabile directs an insult at both Darigan and Skarl before hurling her own fistful of cookie and having to be yanked back by her husband. The tree in the corner spontaneously catches on fire.

King Altador swallows, grabbing at his temples. He’s not going to yell. He shouldn’t yell, he won’t—

“Stop!!”

Everything goes silent. All eyes turn in unanimous shock as King Roo lifts himself on top of the table.

“That’s it! I can’t take this…this bickering anymore!” King Roo frowns, but lifts up an opened present in his hands: a bucket of coloured chalk. “Look. I have a solution. Please watch!”

He hops to the floor, landing squarely on his feet as he produces a red chalk and begins to mark a straight line down the middle of the room. Everyone watches in tense silence as he completely halves the meeting room.

He points at Darigan and shoves him to the left side. “You, stay there!” He points to Skarl and snaps his fingers to the right side. “And you stay there! Whoever has issues, stay on the opposite side of the room! For some peace and quiet, please!”

The silence stretches on.

Jazan clears his throat and backs up onto the left side. Amira frowns, but shifts to the right.

The group disperses, separating themselves based on whatever plights burdened them. Orion stays in the middle alongside Altador, the both of them facing each other as the group splits off on either side.

“…okay.” Altador voices, carefully straightening. “You know what? I approve of this choice.”

“Yeah. It’s…nice to have some quiet.” Orion adds.

“Great! Now there can be two parties!” King Roo looks moderately relieved that his plan had the gall to work. His exhaustion evaporates, replaced with a cheery grin as bounces back on his tail and picks up a discarded cookie from the ground to munch away.

The leaders slowly merge back into their respective celebrations. The arguments die out; there are more conversations to become lost in, but it’s far more of a blessing.

King Jazan slowly wanders up to King Altador’s side, minding the line. Altador tilts his head with a weary expression. “Let me guess. Here to tell me you told me so.”

King Jazan only twitches an ear. “For the love of Fyora, no. Can you please put out that fire?!”

Luckily for Altador, that’s their last problem to tackle for the night. A true Day of Giving miracle.

     The End.