Exurb1a - The Prince of Milk

The Prince of Milk

Exurb1a

Contents

A Note from the Author

Oh hi.

Firstly thanks for bothering to pick this up. If you know me from YouTube, you'll be aware I'm fond of funnies. This isn't a book of funnies. I just want to make that clear in case you're having a good day and want to keep it that way. This project started as a short story about five years ago. I was watching a funeral in Taipei and wondered if a comedy could be written about two sadistic undertakers. I think you'll agree, after reading the end result, that it grew horribly out of control. It isn't a comedy, it's barely about undertakers, and one of them isn't even that nasty. Still, this book was finished as a direct result of the generally lovely reaction I received from the last one. Some of you reached out with questions and insults, and demanded more stuff to read. Well here you bloody go, okay?

Ive left a little reading list at the end for those who are interested in finding out more about the science-ish stuff mentioned, if some of it is new to you. Sci-fi is usually terrible at predicting the future, but sometimes it's all right for saying a thing or two about the present.

In any case, I owe an enormous thank you to those of you donating on Patreon. I'm not sure what's gone wrong with you mentally, but I'm not complaining. It allowed the book you're reading now to exist. And really, if you don't like it, you have only yourself to blame. That'll teach you to be so ridiculously kind to strangers in future, won't it?

No, genuinely, your kindness is more appreciated than I can say. Finishing a book generally requires months of sitting around in your underwear, staring at a Word document. By which I mean playing RimWorld and eating posh biscuits until five in the morning.

With that in mind, and with much love and gratitude, I would like to dedicate this book to all of you who have been lovely enough to support my work. All I ever really wanted to do was make stuff on my own terms. Recently I have been able to do that. It couldn't have happened without you and your support, and that means the absolute world to me. So thank you.

Insults, comments, and more insults regarding this book are welcome via: exurb1achannel@gmail.com.

All the best, as ever,

Ex.

Sofia, Bulgaria.

A special thank you to Ellis Spark whose tireless friendship and encouragement keeps me sane, Adriana Rangelova for ensuring everything is under control, and James Bowles the finest ally one could ever possibly ask for.
Much love also to Patreon supporters:

Adam Horne, Adrian Dalen, Adrian Horga, Al Rose, Al Rose Sbastien, Alex Chung, Alex van der Weerden, Aleksander M Lingstad, Alexandros Skourtis, Alume, Amadeus Phoenix, Angelo Iasevoli, Anthony Campolo, Anthony Nascente, Arman Athwal, Bartek Mendrela, Bas van Otterloo, Ben Djibeh, Ben Hannel, Ben Macintosh, Ben Mountford, Benedict Donovan, Benedikt Jaletzke, Btovune, Bharat Raj Nair, Blaise Ritchie, Blake Campbell, Boris Chan, Brendan Cunningham, Bruno Caminada,Btovune, Chanda Unmack, Charlie Fish, Chris Barber, Corbinian Bttner, Corrigan Miller, Costel Girboiu, Daniel Cross, Daniel Gombik, Danny Mac, David Nicolas Ring Dafonte, David Supernor, destofworlds, edsperanto, Elbracht, Eli Samuel, ericblobb, Ewan Clarke, Felix Liver, Finlay, Francesco Cusimano, Gabriel Guzman, Gavin Graham, Halfbakery, Halil Kaskavalci, Iliya Sofkov, Jack Driver, James Groves, Jared Bass, Jean Nicholas Brisset, Joe Johns, Jean-luc Picard, Jens VC, Jimmy, John "Johnny-Guitare" Crousse, John Gregory Long, John Woolley, Johnny Gomez, Jordan Bradbury, Joseph Everett, Josie Koznarek, Joscha Seemann, Joseph C, Josh Horswill, Karl Dawson, Kieran Duncan, Kevin Focke, Kris Arruda, Kurzgesagt, Kyle Beck, Leander Seidlitz, Levi Will, Kristoffer Lim Ersland, Lukas Schimmelpfennig, MK, Mark, Marcus Skandfer Backer, Matias Fernande, Matthew Zeller, Mert Kzlrmak, Mike Bott, Millie Tempo, Mike Ainslie, Nick Escue, Nick Reese, Nils Mentzel, Notch, Oliver Sartun, Oliver Sulkowski, Ondej Vaculk, Paul Matthijsse, Peggy Pulley, Pierre Flumble Orsat, Quinn Flower, Preston Alberio T. Croshaw, Rachel Silberman, Ramon Kool,Raya, Real Engineering, Robert Newton, Rodolfo Davis Millet, Rowan Mackenzie, Ryan Dunne, Ryan Estes, Ryan Phipps Kenny, Sam Derbyshire, Sam Roman, Sam Rose, Samuel Jones, Silvio Fedrigo, Sky Nite, Supanovi, Swanny, Tams Deme, That guy from Scotland who didn't want me to put his name in but I sort of did anyway as a joke because I'm grateful, Tim Burton, Tony Beighton, Trevor Hubbard, Tristan Manchester, Victor van Earthington, Vctor Martnez Nouvilas Gonzlez Pallej, Wolfgang Weber, Yaman, Yann Leretaille, Yaron, Yasir Al-Latifi, Yosef Shuman, Zaheer Jamal, and Zonja Monda.

Watch out, you might get what you're after.

Talking Heads

Time will perfect matter.

Terence Mckenna

But there's an altar in the valley, for things in themselves as they are.

Silver Jews

I The Grudge

ONE

The crone is consulting her rune stones. They're quiet today. She turns them over in her hand, whispers an incantation, turns them over again one blue, one green, one red.

A boy has appeared at her door. He rushes in and begins looking under tablecloths and behind animal skins.

Hide me, the boy whispers.

Things are rarely as bad as they seem, the old woman replies.

The boy peeks out of the tent, then tries to crawl under a table.

Hey, thats starfire wood that is, leave off! yells the crone.

She peers out of the tent herself. The sky is its usual shade of half-twilight. The cosmic strings are dancing among the clouds. Nothing is out of place.

I've never once asked for your help, says the boy. But I am asking you now. Do me this one kindness and you can ask anything in return.

Can't think of anything I'd want from you to begin with, if I'm honest.

Then do it out of decency.

The crone shrugs and mutters an Etheric charm. A partition appears in the wall leading to a dark compartment inside. She beckons and the two of them enter. Another charm and the wall closes.

Is it says the boy.

Yes, says the crone. One-way. We can see out. Nobody can see in. Now tell me what the matter is.

The boy crouches down and wraps his hands around his knees.

Youve broken the Laws? the crone tries. The boy shakes his head. Stolen something then? He shakes his head again. She catches his gaze, marvels at his strange eyes: one green as jade, the other blue and glinting. Attractive lad, she thinks. Girls flock from all across the Etheria with marriage to him in mind, if the stories are to be believed. Youve been romancing someone you shouldnt? she says finally. The boy nods. He goes to continue but a huge figure rounds the tents entrance and looks about; a man higher than a column, wearing nebula fabrics that sparkle and ebb, and around his neck hang amethyst death pendants. He touches idly at the crones things, her rune stones, her writing table. Then he peers into the lavatory section and the library cavern.

Woman, he calls. Are you present? The boy covers his ears and rolls into a ball inside the dark compartment. Crone? The Arbiter of Timely Accidents says you havent left your tent all day. I wish to speak with you.

The boy whimpers.

Shut up, whispers the crone. Not a sound.

A certain matter to settle with the Arbiter of Mischief, the man adds. At the mention of his own name, the boy clamps down even harder on his ears. Woman? The man touches at a few more of the old womans possessions, takes a last look at her rune stones, then exits.

The boy sprawls on the floor of the compartment.

Djall, the crone murmurs. You've angered Djall, of all the arbiters? The boy grunts. Go on then, how did you do it?

Oh hell whispers the boy.

Tell me . Nothing to lose now.

Beomus wipes the sweat from his brow and neck and sits up. His blue eye twinkles. Zorya, he says.