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A portal opened in the Great Barren, and the Fount of Knowledge emerged from it.
The spell had used up all the remaining magic energy he had left. He could not even float anymore. His magic had been faltering, but he was determined to travel here, a desolate area where he could be alone.
He staggered forward a few steps before stopping.
Heavy fatigue weighed on him, unlike anything he had ever experienced. And so suddenly too. He and the other Divine Emissaries weren't affected by ordinary illnesses, so what could possibly be causing this?
Fount tried to steady himself, but his legs felt weak. His breathing grew shallow, and his vision started to blur. He planted his key staff against the ground to keep from falling.
He glanced over at the Soul Jam in his staff. Even through his fading vision, he could see darkness creeping along its edges.
What was happening to his Soul Jam?
Before he could make sense of it, another wave of fatigue hit him. His grip slipped from the staff, and the world tilted.
The last thing Fount remembered was hitting the ground. Then everything went dark.
Sunset was approaching as the Salt of Solidarity rode across the Great Barren on Nox Black Salt. The wind had picked up as they traveled, dragging dirt across the ground in thin, shifting waves.
Then Salt spotted a figure lying motionless in the dust.
He frowned and steered Nox closer.
As he approached, he immediately recognized who it was.
"Fount of Knowledge?"
Salt quickly dismounted and dropped to one knee beside him. He carefully turned him over.
Fount’s breathing was shallow, and his forehead felt unnaturally warm beneath Salt's hand. It almost seemed like a fever, but that didn't make sense. Emissaries weren't supposed to be susceptible to ordinary illnesses. Could this truly be from exhaustion alone?
"Fount." Salt shook his shoulder. "Can you hear me?"
No response.
His gaze shifted to the staff lying nearby, then to the Soul Jam embedded within it. The glow was dimmer than usual, and dark discoloration clung around the edges.
A bad sign.
Salt didn't understand what was happening, but he needed to act fast.
He retrieved the staff and laid it across Fount before slipping one arm beneath his shoulders and the other under his knees. After a brief adjustment, he lifted him from the ground.
Salt carried him back to Nox. The horse lowered himself, allowing Salt to carefully settle Fount into the saddle. Once he was sure Fount wouldn't slide off, Salt sat behind him and wrapped an arm firmly around his waist to keep him upright.
With a light pull on the reins and a soft click of his tongue, he steered Nox toward the Kala Namak Knights’ stronghold in the distance.
By the time they arrived at the stronghold, the sun was low on the horizon and dusk was beginning to settle in.
Salt guided Nox through the gates and along the familiar path toward the entrance. Most of the knights had already retired for the evening, leaving the area quiet.
When they arrived, Nox came to a halt and lowered himself to the ground. Salt gave the horse a quick, appreciative pat before carefully dismounting. Keeping one arm securely around Fount, he lifted him from the saddle. Nox snorted softly and, accustomed to such routines, turned and made his way back toward the stables on his own.
Adjusting his grip, Salt cradled Fount against his chest. Fount remained unresponsive, his head resting against Salt's shoulder as they entered the building.
Once inside his room, Salt gently laid Fount on the bed and set the staff against the headboard. For a moment, he remained there, watching for any sign of movement.
Then Fount stirred.
A faint groan escaped Fount as he slowly came to. His eyes opened halfway, unfocused.
“…Where…” His voice was rough. “Where am I?”
Salt had pulled up a chair to sit beside the bed. “My room.”
Fount blinked again, trying to focus. He recognized the familiar helmet. “…Salt?”
“Yes. I found you unconscious in the Barren fields,” Salt said. “How did you end up like this? We aren’t supposed to be affected by ordinary illnesses.”
“I don’t know…I’ll figure it out...” Fount replied.
Fount tried to sit up, but the movement immediately showed how unstable he was. His strength gave out quickly. He steadied himself with effort, breathing a little sharper.
Salt reached out instinctively. “You shouldn’t—”
“I can manage,” Fount said.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed his staff. The moment his feet touched the floor, his knees wavered. He forced himself upright anyway, taking an unsteady step forward, using the staff for support.
“Fount,” Salt said more firmly, rising from the chair. “You can barely stand.”
“I said I’m fine.”
He took another step. It was weaker than the first. His balance faltered again, and he had to tighten his grip on the staff just to remain upright. But his grip began to slip.
Salt stepped behind him and caught his shoulders before he could tip over. “You’re not.”
“I’m…I’m just a little dizzy…” Fount said, holding his forehead.
Salt guided him back toward the bed and carefully eased him down. “At this rate, you’ll collapse before reaching the door.”
Fount sat for a moment, appearing to consider Salt’s words. The effort it had taken just to walk a few steps was impossible to ignore.
Then with a heavy sigh he reluctantly lowered himself fully onto the mattress to lie down.
Salt pulled the blanket over him and set the staff back against the headboard.
“Why did you come here in your current state?” Salt asked, returning to his chair. His voice remained calm. “From the way you were acting, it doesn’t seem like you came here for help.”
Fount stared up at the ceiling.
“I wanted some peace and quiet,” Fount said. “There’s a crowd of Cookies at my Spire, outraged that I can’t solve all their problems. They’re angry over the honest answers I give them, because it’s not the answer they want, yet they don’t want to make their own decisions. They called me a sham who doesn’t know anything. A liar. What’s the point? I’m sick of it all!”
Fount's hands tightened around the blanket. Salt quietly listened while Fount's frustration slowly settled.
“Did they harm you?” Salt asked.
“No,” Fount said, rubbing his temples. “But the outside of my Spire is probably a disaster from the riot.”
Salt glanced toward the staff resting against the bed. His attention landed on the Soul Jam, darkness still clinging to its edges.
“There’s something wrong with your Soul Jam,” Salt said. “How long has it looked like that?”
“I noticed it when I arrived here,” Fount said. “My theory is the Soul Jam’s altered appearance and my ailment are connected. I just need to find out how.”
“I’ll help,” Salt said.
Fount turned toward Salt, surprised. “Huh? Aren’t you busy with your own duties?”
“This takes priority,” Salt said. “We don’t know what this affliction is or if it can affect the other Emissaries. And it would be difficult for you to solve this on your own in your current condition.”
Fount went quiet, staring down at the blanket draped across him.
“…I suppose that’s true...I could use the help…” Fount said. Then a small smile formed on his face. “Let’s solve this together.”
Salt nodded. He stood and placed a hand on Fount’s shoulder.
“But that can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “For now, try to get some sleep. Hopefully your condition will improve by morning.”
Fount watched as Salt crossed the room and opened a wooden storage box near the wall. He dug through the contents and took out a small blanket.
“By the way, where are you sleeping?” Fount asked.
“The floor,” Salt said.
Fount furrowed his eyebrows.
“No,” he said, pushing himself up. “I'm not so bad off that I need to take your bed.”
A brief silence followed.
Salt looked down at the blanket in his hands then placed it back in the box. “Then we’ll share it.”
Fount let out a weak incredulous laugh, laying back down. “There’s barely any space, especially if you sleep with your helmet on.”
Salt walked back over to the bed and sat down on the opposite side. “We just have to lay close to each other.” He began to remove his armor. “And I don’t sleep with my helmet on.”
That caught Fount’s attention. “Oh? You don’t mind me seeing your face? You never seem to take it off, so I assumed you wanted to hide something.”
“There’s nothing unusual about my face. I just feel…odd without my helmet…Incomplete,” Salt said. "I prefer to keep it on around others. However, this is a special circumstance."
Piece by piece, the armor came off and was set neatly beside the bed. The helmet remained until the very end.
When Salt finally lifted it away, dark hair spilled free and fell to his shoulders. The ends of his hair shimmered with salt crystals. He set the helmet aside then turned to face Fount, revealing light gray dough and vivid purple eyes that held a calm, steady presence.
Fount was left speechless.
Salt climbed onto the bed and settled onto his side facing Fount. Pulling the blanket over himself, he adjusted slightly.
“How is this?” he asked. “There’s a little more space if I lay on my side.”
Fount just stared at him.
“…Fount?” Salt placed a hand on his arm.
At the touch, he snapped out of it, looking a bit flustered. “Oh! Um…yes…this is fine…” Fount said, averting his eyes.
“I didn’t think there was anything about my face worth noting.” Salt stated calmly.
Fount cleared his throat. “Well, this is probably the first and last time I will see your face, so I’m committing it to memory…Anyways I’m going to try to get some rest now.”
Salt’s tone softened slightly. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything."
Fount hesitated. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket.
“Um…there is one other thing you can do for me…” he said.
Fount held out his hand in front of Salt.
Salt glanced at it, then back at Fount. “What is it? Is your hand injured?”
“No. Just…” Fount averted his eyes again. “Hold my hand.”
Salt didn’t answer immediately. The silence made Fount increasingly uneasy as he waited for a response.
“Today has been very stressful,” Fount said, a deep blush spreading across his face. “And…this would help me feel better…that’s all...”
“I see,” Salt said at last. “Alright.”
He reached out and took Fount’s hand, fingers closing around it gently.
Fount’s grip tightened just a little in response, as if testing the reassurance, before settling. He let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders slowly fading.
Soon, Fount closed his eyes, his expression softening as he relaxed.
Salt stayed still, watching Fount’s breathing. It was far steadier now than it had been when he first found him in the Barren fields, no longer shallow or strained. Perhaps a sign that his condition was already improving.
After a while, Salt closed his eyes as well, maintaining the hold on Fount’s hand into the stillness of the night.