Garrett - Assisted Plum Terrace Palace's Chief Sommelier

Garrett assisted Plum Terrace Palace's Chief Sommelier and Chief Fromager with the selection of wine, cheese, and treats in anticipation of the Sixth Princess's evening soiree. After settling on several platters of gooey cheeses and sesame crisps for a white wine, they argued about whether or not red bean mochi balls were too obvious for cabernet.

"How about duck dumplings and petite sirah?" suggested Garrett.

"It would be different," agreed the sommelier.

"We can sprinkle parmesan on the dumplings," suggested the fromager.

"With a touch of olive oil," suggested Garrett.

"That's piling it on a bit thick," countered the sommelier.

"People will talk about it for a week," said Garrett. "About my fried wontons…."

"You and your fried wontons," sighed the sommelier.

"I must have them," insisted Garrett.

"Because you are child-like," said the sommelier.

"Truffle stuffing with sharp cheddar," suggested the fromager.

There was a pause in the conversation.

"I must have them…," said the sommelier, "with champagne."

It was settled. They got down to arguing about spiced walnut cookies when a porter raced back upstairs after only having descended into one of the cellars a few moments earlier.

He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"The Princess is here!" he said.

"In the cellar?" said Garrett. "But she was hanging decorations in the Red And Gold Room."

"The Little Princess!" said the porter.

"We don't have a little…," said Garrett. "Do you mean Iba Algi?"

The porter nodded furiously.

"You're new here," he said. "There's a secret tunnel!"

"A secret tunnel?" asked Garrett. "To a cellar? Isn't that a security hole?"

"It is," agreed Princess Iba Algi. "But I'm the only one who knows where the tunnel starts."

Climbing a short flight of stairs up from the cellar left the little princess short of breath. Her companion was no better off. He was a thin young man with bad posture and a sleepy potato face. Though probably not actually thinner than the Fourth Prince, he was several inches taller than Renjie – which made him look like a bent twig. He had remarkably nice skin, though.

"You came here with just him to protect you?" asked Garrett.

"No," said Iba Algi.

Garrett walked over to her and looked down the stairs.

"Who else is there?" he asked

"Harlecuin Sols and Nin!" said Iba Algi cheerfully.

"The Little Princess is always accompanied by ghosts," whispered the porter.

"Always?" asked Garrett.

"Always," insisted Iba Algi.

Having regained her breath, Iba Algi gave Garrett a great big hug. Twisting side to side, she thanked him for wanting to protect her. Garrett blushed.

"But who is this twink?" he asked. "One of Renjie's friends?"

Ri Ran introduced himself.

"The greatest painter of our present age!" said Iba Algi.

Ri Ran insisted it wasn't true.

"Of course it's true," said Iba Algi. "I'm not a cute boy who makes up ridiculous stories."

"Someone, go tell Rangiku the greatest painter of our current age is here," said Garrett.

"Who is Rangiku?" asked Ri Ran.

"The Sixth Princess," said Garrett.

The porter ran off to find her. Garrett explained to Iba Algi that Renjie was at the Ministry of Antiquities. Iba Algi already knew that. When Rangiku appeared, the two princesses squealed and played patty-cake games. Iba Algi was short for her young age, but Rangiku was not much taller. Watching them play patty-cake was among the cutest things Garrett had ever witnessed. Iba Algi again introduced Ri Ran as the greatest painter of the present age.

Again, he curled into a ball of embarrassed denials.

"The greatest painter of our present age has nice skin," said Rangiku.

"I think so too," said Garrett.

"Renjie will demand a vote on whose skin is creamier and more delicious," sighed Rangiku.

"Who is Renjie?" asked Ri Ran.

"A naughty boy," said Iba Algi.

"The Fourth Prince," said Garrett.

"Am I going to die?" wailed Ri Ran.

Rangiku hugged him.

"I will protect you," she said. "He smells nice, too. But who should he paint first?"

Everyone looked at Garrett at the same time. Iba Algi told him to take his clothes off. The sommelier suggested that it would be unsanitary for Garrett to take his clothes off in a food preparation area. The fromager countered that it might be a good way to introduce new yeasts to the cheese cultures.

"Disgusting!" said the sommelier.

"Monsieur," replied the fromager, "cheese is, at its core, disgusting. That's why we love it."

"A fair point," agreed the sommelier.

"I am not taking off my clothes," said Garrett.

"Oh, you will," said Iba Algi.

"I'm intrigued by the potential advances in cheese fermentation," said Rangiku, "but I agree that a kitchen is not the right place for the greatest painter of our current age to paint my Garrett."

"I'm just Ri Ran," said the greatest painter. "Sometimes, Mousy Rascal."

"Mousy Rascal it is," said Garrett. "But I'm not taking off my clothes."

"We'll go outside to catch the sun," said Rangiku. "By one of the waterfalls."

"Lovely!" agreed Iba Algi.

The conversation moved outside. Garrett insisted that he would not take his clothes off all the way to a wet rock surrounded by sparkling mist. Porters arrived with painting materials. They pointed at Garrett and commented approvingly as one piece of clothing after another was removed. Garrett would never flex in public. Stretching to relieve stress and maintain a healthy lifestyle, however, was always good practice. He admired how stretching made his muscles pop when standing in angled sunshine and sparkling mist.

Ri Ran always used quality materials. Plum Terrace Palace, however, provided materials that were royal class. The ink almost knew where to go without being told. 

Garrett settled into his role as the god of mist. Occasionally, he saw two giggling children playing in the waterfall's rainbows. They chased one another in one direction, then reversed, back and forth. At first their appearances were brief enough that Garrett considered them flights of his own fancy. By the time Ri Ran completed his painting, however, Garrett was convinced they were the ghosts Harlecuin Sols and Nin.

As for the final result, it was quite something.

"Oh. My. Gosh!" cried Rangiku.

"I do look pretty good," agreed Garrett.

"You can put your clothes back on, now," Iba Algi told him.

More than pretty good, Garrett really was the god of mist. With the exception of a few thin lines, most of the painting's ink was barely visible. But barely visible meant that it was visible enough to draw the viewer into Garrett's most appealing bare features. He'd put a lot of work into that body. Captured in the mist alongside him were two giggling cherubs.

"So you saw them too?" Garrett asked Ri Ran.

"Mousy Rascal is sensitive," said Iba Algi. "He reincarnated from an earlier age, and has most of the technique – but is still a bit fuzzy on details."

"Maybe we can figure out who he is," suggested Rangiku.

"Intriguing!" said Iba Algi. "Send this painting to the Ministry of Antiquities. I understand that they have a system for exploring such mysteries. Besides, it should be in a museum."

"Great idea, Iba Algi!" said Rangiku. "But first we have to show Mom."