We search for it on hill and peak.

O'er plains and meadows long we seek,

Yet still the star eludes us.

It is lost to us, forgotten crown;

Lost, where none can find it.

-Anonymous

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Miro was getting excited.

The mountain they were on had slowly been sloping downward as they traveled, and even though the sun was setting, the heavy rain clouds looming above them having left some time ago. The sky was streaked with purple and orange hues, spots of peppered clouds floating far above, stained different colors by the sun.

That was not what Miro was excited about. As they’d been walking, small signs of civilization had started popping up. It hadn’t noticed the first shed, but it’d seen the field covered in organic gold, waving gently as beads of diamond water dripped slowly from the crop’s stalks. Corn probably tasted pretty good, although Miro could only imagine what it was like.

Olivai was beginning to breathe a little harder, and Miro felt a bit guilty. It still wasn’t sure how to make itself lighter, but there had to be something it could do to help out, right?

Opening its mouth wide, it inhaled some air and inflated. Olivai promptly dropped Miro to the ground, jumping backward to avoid the splash of mud as the slime plopped onto the road. Expelling the air, Miro tautened itself and rolled behind Olivai’s boots, chirping loudly.

She stared at it for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Did you just… thank you, but I’m not sure you won’t just roll off into the sunset.”

Daveen frowned at her. “Priestess, are you talking to the slime?”

Olivai glanced up at him, surprised. She didn’t seem to have been aware he’d been watching. Miro had noticed him watching Olivai and itself for at least two hours now. “I’m certain it can’t understand me, but tone counts for something, correct?”

Daveen shook his head. “Whilst remaining as respectful as possible, slimes are the stupidest creatures ever to have inhabited this world. I trust your tenability with regards to studying it as an unusually docile monster, but in terms of personality or sapience, slimes have none.”

Miro deflated slightly as Olivai conceded the point. “I understand that completely. They do not have a history of being the most intelligent of creatures, no, but a kind tone has been proven to assuage even dragons under certain circumstances.”

“Slimes are not dragons,” Daveen reminded her. “Dragons are fully aware of their surroundings and many have been known to speak. They cast magic, they produce philosophy, they invent things. Slimes eat and breed. They have never done anything else.”

Miro’s mood was deteriorating by the second, and it began to gradually sink into the road. Olivai leaned down and tried to pick it up, only to find its texture a thick syrup. Her forehead wrinkled. “That’s… strange. What do you suppose it’s doing now?”

Daveen sighed. “Priestess, I have not the slightest idea of the machinations of slimes. It may not even have a reason.”

Olivai shook her head. “It’s docile and does not bite. The extent of its actions have been an attempt to eat the residue of the containment spell I cast upon first encountering it. I don’t believe it liked the taste.”

Even though it was liking the conversation less and less as it went on, Miro’s surface wrinkled as it recalled that horrible taste. The sudden change in substance allowed Olivai to pick the slime back up, and she cradled it in her arms once again. Daveen’s eyebrows scrunched together at the sight. “Priestess, must you carry it?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you rather I have it roll on the ground unaccompanied? I don’t know how I would put a leash on it.”

Miro felt insulted that Olivai thought it would need a leash to stay close. Where else would Miro go?

Daveen bowed unobtrusively. “Of course, priestess. Please forgive my insolence. I only intended to learn of your plans for the creature.”

Olivai inclined her head towards him. “No need to worry about it, Daveen. I assure you that my examination should not take too much time.”

The acolyte bowed again before walking away. Olivai held Miro aloft, frowning. “Why did you do that?”

Miro blew a raspberry at her, and she shook her head in amusement. “It would be pleasant if you were more intelligent, Miro. Perhaps there exists a supplement… No, I suppose not.” She didn’t really seem to be talking to Miro, despite the fact she’d said its name.

Miro partially liquefied, slipping straight through her hands and plopping onto the road. Olivai tried to pick it up again, but this time the slime rolled away and through the acolytes’ legs. The young priestess started chasing it, politely and hurriedly pushing through the acolytes as the slime got further and further away from her. “Miro! Miro, stop rolling!”

The slime ignored her entirely. She’d been nice to start with, but she didn’t seem to think it was smart and it didn’t feel like obeying her at the moment.

Before it knew what was going on, the soft ground turned into hard cobblestones, and Miro rolled to the top of the hill.

Laid out in front of it was a village. It wasn’t very large, only a few dozen buildings and a church, but it was the first village Miro had ever seen and was thus very impressive. If the slime squinted, it could make out an orange glow as the street lamps were lit, a feathered Maderai leaping from pole to pole to insert a flicker of fire into each one.

Olivai caught up to Miro and scooped it up, wrapping her arms around it and holding it much more securely. “You’re not a very obedient slime, are you?”

It stared at her in shock. Obedient? It’d been doing almost everything she’d told it to do so far! For a brief moment, Miro considered taking a nibble at her boot, but it had a feeling that wouldn’t end well at all.

Turning to the village, Olivai smiled. “Well, you’ll have plenty of space to roll around in Caro Lias. It’s not a Carod by any means, but it’s sizable for a Caro. Granted, you’ll have to stay at the chapel for quite some time.”

Gesturing for the acolytes to follow her, she gave Miro a gentle squeeze and started heading down the road. Otto caught up to her a moment later. “Hey, Ladenstar. How’s the slime doing?”

Olivai indicated Miro. “I’m not sure. I think he might have just tried to escape, but he stopped the moment he came over the hill and saw Caro Lias. Do you know anyone who might have knowledge of slimes? I just don’t know much about them.”

Otto put a giant hand to his chiseled chin. “Hmm… well, there’s that one dwarf who lives on the corner next to Alyn’s supply shop. I’ve heard him talking about his ancestry like every other dwarf who’s ever lived, but you know as well as I do that he’s a sleight.”

Olivai’s face wrinkled in mild disgust. “In that case, he’ll be a last resort. He’d probably try to steal Miro at the first chance he got. A docile slime could potentially be worth a decent amount of money.”

Otto ceded her point with a shrug. “Fair enough. I thought you should know he’s there just in case.”

Miro was only partially paying attention to their conversation. The group had been coming closer to Caro Lias and the slime wanted to—

SMELLS. Hundreds of clashing scents invaded Miro’s mouth all at once, smells of mud and sweat and bread and meat and spice and beasts and—

Olivai tapped Miro’s surface with a frown, snapping it out of the horrified stupor it’d fallen into. Without a moment’s hesitation, Miro closed its mouth as thoroughly as it could, practically dissolving the line marking the opening in the process. All of the smells vanished at the same time, nearly stunning Miro. Its eyes might as well have been removed.

“Do you think it’s okay?” Olivai asked Otto, concern lacing her voice. Otto scratched his eyebrows, stumped.

Miro dragged its focus back, concentrating on simply existing. It was almost impossible not to open its mouth and take in the scents of everything around it, but it didn’t want to go through that again.

By the time Miro opened its eyes again, they were in a different place entirely. It was a place with a soaring ceiling, arching pillars, and a very interesting mural on the back wall. Made entirely out of stone, the primary section of the building was big enough to hold maybe a hundred people. Although, with the long wooden benches lined neatly on either side of the path Olivai was carrying it through, they would most likely not fit quite so well.

The circular mural behind the pulpit ahead of them depicted a hooded woman dressed in gold and white robes similar to Olivai’s. Long white hair streamed out from beneath the hood, carved into the stone with what must have been painstaking hours of effort. In one palm she held a knife, and green spirals wove around her other hand.

Walking straight past it, Olivai opened a door and began walking up a curved flight of stairs. As they ascended, Miro noticed another slime dozing in a small sconce in a cage hanging from the distant ceiling.

It was the first slime Miro had seen aside from itself, but this one was a dull orange. A constant, mellow flame flickered from it, producing a good amount of light and heat and lighting up the whole staircase. It was also a good deal smaller than Miro, measuring perhaps one-fifth of a Miro wide.

Olivai didn’t notice Miro’s fascination and continued up the stairs. A wooden door was at the top, reinforced with metal strips. A curious insignia was carved into the center, a circle with four other circles intruding on it at even spaces.

Setting Miro on the top step, Olivai crouched and stared at it. “Don’t move.” She said it with absolute seriousness, and for a moment, Miro felt she was really talking to it, not at it.

Then she snorted and stood up, shaking her head. “I need sleep.” Removing a hefty key from her robes, she inserted it into the door. Seizing the key with both hands, she slowly turned it. The sound of grinding gears came from behind, and the door finally swung open a moment later.

Olivai scooted Miro in with one foot, and the slime’s eyes went wide.

The circular room inside had a high ceiling with a wooden platform lining the wall, a short ladder enabling access. Instead of flaming slimes like the one Miro had seen just a few moments before, a variety of thick candles adorned small sconces set evenly about the room. A desk was set up on one side of the room, a number of papers strewn across its surface along with a mirror. The chair accompanying the desk had a red cushion on its seat. Miro felt a strange urge to hop on it the moment it saw it.

A bed was scooted into one corner almost as an afterthought, with a small nightstand directly next to it. A framed portrait of an austere Olivai along with an older man and woman leaned against a golden jewelry box on the nightstand. The colors and detail were incredible.

In the loft in the upper area, a number of clothes hung from a ring-shaped pole. Several pairs of shoes were set on the floor, scooted unobtrusively beneath the bed.

There was only one window in the room, through which Miro could see the darkened sky. The sun must have finished setting, but the room was well-lit.

Behind Miro, Olivai pushed the heavy wooden door closed, slid the threefold bolt across, and sighed. Placing her staff against the door, she untied her robes and put them on the end of her bed. She’d been wearing a short-sleeved white shirt underneath them, along with a loose pair of yellow pants. Walking over to the mirror, she began carefully pulling the ornate braids and loops out of her hair. Glancing at Miro, she smiled and told it, “You look surprised.”

Miro burbled politely. It was a very nice room, in fairness. It wasn’t sure what it had been expecting, but this had not been it.

After a minute or two, Olivai finished getting the last of her hair undone and moved over to her bed. Picking up her robes, she climbed up the ladder and hung them on the ring. Returning to the ground, she picked her staff up, inclined it towards herself, and said, “Purify.”

A blast of golden light washed over her, much softer than the one Miro had been subjected to. She aimed her staff up at her clothes in the loft and repeated the process. Once she was done, she set the staff down and sprawled on the bed, eyes closed.

Miro rolled over, gathered itself, and bounced onto the bed. Olivai’s eyes flew open at the sudden movement, but she relaxed just as quickly, giving Miro a faint smile. “Oh no you don’t. I need my sleep. You don’t.”

What was that supposed to mean? Miro gave her a muted burble of protest as she scooted it off the bed onto the floor, but it didn’t try to get back up.

Removing her shoes, Olivai pulled herself under the covers and raised a hand to the room. “Quench.” The candles all extinguished as one, dousing the room into darkness. Miro chirped in alarm, startled.

Olivai reached from her bed and put a hand on Miro’s surface, and it froze. “Good night, Miro. Don’t eat me while I’m asleep…” She murmured, and her hand went limp.

How tired had she been?

Miro rolled out from underneath her hand and hopped up onto the chair. The cushion turned out to be just as comfy as Miro had anticipated, and the slime quickly settled down. Gradually, it deflated to conform to the shape of the cushion, and its eyes closed.

In spite of its best efforts, its mouth opened, and smells came flooding in. Warm candle wax. Clean floors. Ever so slightly scratchy wool. A hard door, tasting of salt. And beneath all of it, the smell of a roll made up of warmth and manners and sleep.

Miro peacefully fell asleep, knowing it was safe.