Wine and Poison – Chapter 14 – Between Mentor and Apprentice

Author: Nikss

He was still an assistant to her work, and he was still her cook. Scylla’s attitude was only slightly more toxic than it had been at first.

Besides, life on the mountain was the same every day. He knew this because he had lived in the mountains as a child, hiding from Hera’s eyes.

The mountain hadn’t changed. Boringly so.

He was exposed to all the pleasures and depravities, stimulation, and intoxication, of the human world.

Lancion sighed impatiently, his heart beginning to beat in his ears.

‘I’m bored.’

Mania was setting in.

‘How long has it been like this?’

The sun was already setting. Lancion raised an eyebrow.

They’d traveled quite a distance, with little food nearby, and time had passed quickly without doing much of anything.

He looked down at his hands. He had a mountain pigeon in one hand and a handful of wild wheat in the other.

‘What the hell is this all about.’

“I’m sorry, Dionysus. I don’t think I can come here anymore.”

“I’m afraid of being hated by Hera.”

The nymphs who had helped him no longer come around. Hopefully, they won’t tell Hera what he’s doing here.

Lancion laughed nervously. He was sick of it. Never had he hated the fact that Hera still took such a vicious interest in him.

The irritation that rose in his heart was enough to make him feel like mania was already creeping up his neck. His toes twitched even as he stood still.

A primal desire to throw away what was in my hands and run surged from deep within me.

To walk aimlessly as far as my feet would take me.

Until I regained my senses, I would spread my madness to the people, providing a spectacle for the gods looking down from Olympus. Lancion resisted the urge to laugh sharply.

Even as he grew bored, tired, and disinterested, a faint sense of amusement held him back.

Scylla the old woman. It would be easy for him to walk away, but she wouldn’t be here when he returned.

No longer would he see her unforgiving face, would he behold her cold, passionate golden eyes.

At the thought, his steps became unsteady.

‘Alas, what a pity.’

Lancion looked up at the blue sky through the green leaves.

A mountain pigeon flapped its wings, then drooped in exhaustion, and the scorching sun shifted its position slightly.

“Thyrsus.”

Thyrsus, who had slipped out of Scylla’s basket and trailed behind him, turned his head at the call. Lancion rolled his eyes at him.

Against his darkened pupils, Thyrsus’s pitch-black eyes soften.

“Bite me.”

Thyrsus stares up at him in surprise.

“Maybe then I’ll be able to stay sane.”

Sharp teeth dug into his wrist. Thyrsus’s venom coursed through his bloodstream, spreading throughout his body.

His fingertips and toes go numb, as if he’s been soaking in cold water for hours. Nausea spreads to every organ, making him sick to his stomach.

It’s a good thing I didn’t eat anything last night.

‘Otherwise, I would have thrown it all up.’

On numb legs, Lancion took slow steps. In a drunken stupor, his mind raced through the tasks of the day.

The grape seeds from the vendor sprouted two months ago. If they continue to grow, soon I should be able to taste their delicious flesh.

‘I wonder if Scylla will like it.’

The grapes he grew himself were favored by even the pickiest of gods.

It never crossed his mind that anyone would dislike his wine, but this time it bothered him a little.

Scylla was more demanding than even the gods of Olympus.

‘We’d better hurry, she’ll be waiting.’

Thyrsus followed him, sweeping the dirt with his belly. Suddenly, Lancion skidded to a halt.

‘No. Should we wait?’

Lancion’s face crumpled slowly at the thought, as if he were in a terrible mood.

Perhaps it was because he was in a sluggish state of mind. He didn’t feel as excited as usual. It feels like a meaningless child’s game.

It was odd, since it had always been one of his pleasurable delights to step on, trick, or seduce those he disliked and rejected into becoming his mad worshipers.

He could no longer find reward in forcibly diverting her attention away from him to food.

It seemed that even if a great deal of time passed, the distance between her and him would remain the same as it was now.

His presence would be at the bottom of her list of priorities, even if she appreciated the food he cooked and his help.

There was still no desire to turn her mind to the power of the gods, and he doubted she would be pleased if she were to become one of them.

What would be the point of having a puppet without an intellect to worship me on command?

‘What do I want?’

Even if he succeeded in winning her heart, he had a nagging suspicion that she would not be the typical Maenads he knew.

The Maenades who followed him blindly, as if intoxicated, as though drugged, were his devotees, but they were not precious.

I tried to make Scylla that way, but the image of her worshiping me as one of them grew cloudier by the day.

If she followed him of her own volition, of her judgment, if she liked him…

“You’re a rootless lunatic. Everyone around you will be driven mad. No one will take you sincerely, and you will never settle down with anyone, in any land.”

His eyebrows drew together impassively. The curse that Hera had so relentlessly hurled at him seemed to have become his destiny.

There were no such things as Hera’s ability to see the future.

So even though he knew it was a futile idea, Lancion couldn’t stop thinking about it. He injected himself with poison to keep from succumbing to madness, but it had no effect.

The sea of his mind churned. The waves grew wilder and fiercer.

The sun was getting hotter.

It’s well past time for breakfast, and he’s torn between wanting to leave everything behind and descend, and wanting to run back to the cabin and cook something delicious for Scylla.

As a result, he walks slowly toward the hut.

The vibrant landscape of Mount Cithaeron dazzled his dull eyes.

The leaves of the vibrant trees in the not-yet-so-bright sun, the feel of the cool breeze, and the soft earthy ground stirred his emotions.

But mountains this deep also gave birth to something with reason.

Rustle—

A light blue robe swayed in the breeze. Lancion’s gaze flicked upward to the hem of the garment.

The woman’s hair was as green as the leaves on the slender branches, and she smiled broadly, as if she’d been waiting for him to make eye contact.

She was quite attractive, with sparkling eyes and skin so clean and clear it was almost transparent.

“Are you lost?”

It was a nymph in a tree. He was grim at the news, judging by the fact that the nymphs who feared Hera no longer sought him out.

Lancion said nothing, he liked nymphs.

They smelled nicer than humans, and their chattering voices were easy on the ears, so they were pleasant to have around when he needed warmth.