Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Percival lifted his chin as he pushed the door to the bakery open. The bell above tinkled. Despite a rather unpleasant experience in the bakery the day before, he could not deny the deliciousness of the pie. In fact, he’d dreamed of it.
Thus he’d decide to brave being poorly treated by a coarse and insolent baker once again if it meant he could eat another of those divine mushroom and leek pies. His mouth salivated at the thought.
No one stood behind the counter today. But he could see the bakers at work in the back, chatting and laughing. Percival always took his lunch early, so no doubt he was here before the lunch rush.
The bakery had been decorated with baubles, garlands, paper stars, and of course a Christmas tree.
It looked like Christmas had thrown up in here.
The customers, a couple of dryads and a few sprites, sat at the tables, eating, drinking, and smiling.
Clearly, they didn’t mind the garish and over-the-top display.
Percival’s lip curled. This bakery really had no class. But even if the decorations had been more tasteful, Percival would have still disliked it. He’d never been one to enjoy Christmas.
Or…not in this life anyway. In previous lives… But he wasn’t that phoenix anymore. He’d stopped being a sensitive, fragile phoenix after his last death.
In this life he’d learnt many lessons. They’d been taught harshly. But he was stronger and smarter because of them. And less foolish and trusting than he’d been in his previous lives.
Having heard the bell, the baker who’d served him yesterday came out from the back area. He smiled. But as soon as he saw Percival, the smile dimmed.
Percival could almost see the man holding in a sigh. Then he fixed a smile, clearly fake, on his face. That didn’t bother Percival. This man was beneath him. The baker’s approval had no bearing on him whatsoever.
Percival strode towards the counter. He had to admit, though, despite his manners, the baker was attractive. Very attractive, in fact. His smile—his real smile, at least—was simply breathtaking. He had thick dark hair and long lashes. His full lips looked like they were made for sucking cock.
When Percival had walked in the day before, he’d been taken aback by the young baker’s looks. And despite his rather shabby clothes, Percival had even considered propositioning the man. Then the man had kept him waiting. It had continued to go downhill from there.
“Good day, Lord Everflame,” the baker said.
“I hadn’t expected you back.” His smile stretched, like a thread about to snap.
“I am surprised that such an illustrious lord like yourself would condescend to visit our lowly bakery once again. We are honoured and grateful to be blessed by your patronage.”
There was nothing in his voice or words that was openly mocking. But still, Percival knew that was exactly what the baker was doing.
Percival’s kind and his family might have fallen in terms of power and strength. But he did not deserve this insolence.
Percival lifted his nose into the air, staring down at the baker. “Your food is passable. I’ll have a mushroom and leek pie. Two of them.”
“Unfortunately, Your Lordship, we don’t have mushroom and leek pies today. I am so sorry.”
“What?” Percival snapped. Fire and ashes! He’d been thinking of the pie since he ate it yesterday. His taste-buds tingled at the mere memory of it! And now he was being told they didn’t have any today!
“I must give you my deepest apologies, Your Lordship.” The baker emphasised the last word. “But we have different savoury pies each day.” He did another of his insincere bows. “I am sorry to have to convey this terrible disappointment to you.”
“What pies do you have, then?” Percival sneered.
“Individual chicken pot pies,” the baker said. “It’s got chicken, carrots, celery, onion, and peas.”
“Well, I’ll take a chicken pot pie.” He had to admit, it did sound delicious. And if it had the same buttery, flaky pastry… “I’ll take two of them.”
The baker got two and packaged them in brown paper. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’d be interested in the chicken pot pies, Your Lordship.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, you’re a phoenix.” The baker slid the package towards him.
“So?”
“I’m surprised you’d eat another bird. Isn’t that cannibalism?” The baker raised a brow.
“Are you a fool?” He scoffed. “Birds eat birds all the time. Hawks, eagles, owls, and falcons prey on smaller, weaker birds.”
Percival straightened his shoulders. “And phoenixes are not small, weak birds. We are firebirds. We control flames. We are at the top of the pecking order. We are immortal.” But a cold sliver, like ice, slid down his spine as he spoke the last sentence.
Because what he said, that should be the truth. Phoenixes were meant to be immortal. It was what they were known for. But if it was true, then why had so many of his kind died, never to be reborn again?
“I apologise for my ignorance, Your Lordship. That’ll be eighty bells.”
Percival blinked. With hands that only shook a little, he counted out the coins and placed them on the counter.
The baker took them. Counted them and then handed him the change. “Here you are, and I can promise you today the change is correct. I am so sorry for my mistake yesterday and for inconveniencing you so terribly.” He bowed his head.
But Percival didn’t even bother to count the coins. He shoved them in his coin-purse and took the pies. Then, without another word, he strode from the bakery.
A few steps outside, he paused and let out a breath. It fogged the frosty air.
So many phoenixes had suffered their final deaths. A once powerful race that had been in the thousands had now dwindled to less than a hundred.
How could this happen to us? And we are meant to be immortal!
Percival almost laughed. Or wept.
But how did one destroy a phoenix? How did you kill a creature who could be reborn?
It turned out to be rather simple in the end. At the moment of death, you froze their ashes. Of course, it could not be a natural freeze. No mere snowfall or below-freezing temperatures would do it. No. It must be an unnatural, magical freeze. Like frost magic, which could be cast by ice sorcerers.
And phoenixes bred so rarely, so their numbers did not easily replenish.
The first great loss to the phoenix population had occurred over a thousand years ago when they lost the war against the frost giants and ice sorcerers. It had resulted in their numbers being halved. Since then, their population had continued to decline.
And unfortunately, the ashes from a phoenix’s permanent death were incredibly useful in magic spells. Apparently, a single grain of phoenix ash contained a wealth of power. The type of power that many sorcerers would kill for.
And had killed for.
That was why Percival’s parents, his sister, and his brother had been killed.
One night, ice sorcerers had broken into their home and attacked them.
Now his family were nothing but ash. Percival swallowed.
Because that ash would without a doubt have been defiled, their remains used in sorcery by those who’d murdered them.
Truthfully, Percival should be dead too. He had been beyond lucky to survive.
Five sorcerers had attacked his family. One sorcerer per family member. The sorcerers had used circles with runes and symbols to trap phoenixes. Then they had cast a freezing spell to kill and freeze the phoenixes’ ashes so the phoenixes could not be reborn.
But the sorcerer who’d focused on Percival had been younger and less competent than the others. His hold on the binding circle had faltered for a few seconds. And in those crucial seconds, Percival had fled the binding circle and thrown himself from the four-storey window.
He’d died from the fall. But his ashes had not been frozen. So he’d been reborn.
His parents and siblings had not been.
And that was why he had to be strong now. His uncle was right about that. Because if Percival wasn’t tough, he would meet the same fate as his parents, siblings, and so many of his kind. There was no space anymore for phoenixes to be weak or frail.
Otherwise, he and all his kind would be wiped from the planet. They would disappear into ash.