THE APPLE OF SNAKES

xii. flies from moths

Nerluce scarfed down a bowl of noodles, much to the general disgust of the yellow-haired boy - whose name Nerluce refused to learn - and was on his third mung bean cake. The sweets weren't native to Itoroh, but its neighbor - Lailusha - and though the relationship between the two countries wasn't necessarily poor, import goods were considered a luxury, even for nobility. Ethera bordered Lailusha and there were many disciples for which Lailusha was their home country.

So it made sense they'd have bean cakes. Nerluce, who enjoyed the soft and delicate pastry, was very pleased.

"Why are you trying to choke yourself on cakes?" the yellow-haired boy asked, though his expression read more as: "Why are you trying to choke yourself on cakes and getting crumbs all over me in the process?"

"So-wvy," Nerluce said while still chewing.

That disgusted look on his face grew even fiercer. "Don't talk with your mouth full," he said, scolding Nerluce.

Nerluce snorted.

The tall, deep-spoken boy - who spent most of his time silently observing or reading but most notably never went anywhere without the yellow-haired boy - offered what might've been a sympathetic glance at Nerluce. From what Nerluce had discerned, the two were friends from the Old Empire, Dumore, which seemed to explain away the yellow-haired boy's general attitude.

For the smallest nation in Ecekasuri, the denizens of Dumore seemed to still think they were a part of the greatest empire to ever exist.

Lyana slurped the last of her noodles and let out a content sigh. "I think these northern countries are onto something," she said. "You can slurp and burp all you want and it's actually considered a compliment!" She let out a sharp laugh. "Don't you think it's nice not to have to obey all those strict manners from your country, Corbett?"

"No," the yellow-haired boy snapped - or perhaps snarled would be a better word for it. "And don't be so familiar. I-" He drew out a pause, giving the word a heightened sense of importance, "am a very prominent figure in Dumore."

Like that meant anything here.

"Well I'm the son of a noble," Nerluce said, rolling his eyes.

"And I'm more powerful than either of you," Lyana said, sticking out her tongue. Nerluce returned the childish gesture before reaching over and picking up another bean cake. Lyana sighed, looking at the bean cakes with sorrowful eyes. She didn't like the bean cakes as she didn't think they were sweet enough. "I wish they had proper sweetmeats," she said, despairingly.

"Why not conjure some oh great and powerful magickian?" Nerluce asked.

"Because unlike you," Jurine said, leaning into the conversation, her long black hair like the sheen of silk. "Lyana isn't a heretic."

Nerluce bit the inside of his cheek. For some reason, when the words came from someone from his own country, they made shame roll in the pit of his stomach. "They were just questions," Nerluce said, before hurriedly changing the topic. "What are sweetmeats?" The foreign word rolled over his tongue.

"Oh, it's just a food with a lot of sugar," Lyana said.

"Why does it have the word... meat in it then?" Jurine asked, crinkling her nose.

"I- I don't know." Lyana frowned.

Luckily - or unluckily depending - the yellow-haired boy opened his mouth. "It comes from a word in the old tongue that had nothing to do with flesh." He looked very smug to be informing them of this. "It was pronounced like meat but spelled differently and was used in reference to food in general. When the countries split and the modern tongues came into existence, the people of the west continued using meat as food but only in reference to sweetmeats."