Golden Apple Mead
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."One has a lot of reasons to challenge the words of the gods. Fear, jealousy, hubris, temptation. But some do so because they think they're clever enough to weasel around them, or because they see no other choice. Despite being usually enjoyed as a nice sweet brew in Atalanta, Golden Apple Mead has a dreary legend behind its origin, although believe it at your own discretion.
Summary
The Bargain
Even in the more distant past of Atalanta, the three cities of Diuja, Dionysus, and Anchises situated in the east of the nation have been renowned for their bountiful alcoholic brews. In Dionysus you shall find the most tantilizing of Wines, in Anchises you will find the heartiest Ales, and in Diuja you will find the sweetest Meads. But one specific concoction in that last city is very unique, for it must be brewed and served with the utmost caution. The reason why? A divine diva's curse. In Atalanta's youth, long before the metropolis of Paris or the underwater capital were even thoughts, the three Mirthful Cities would hold annual Ferment Festivals. These were events families would spend years preparing victory for, all to win not just local fame and fortune for their brand, but for the blessings of a god to boot. You see, each of the three cities had a patron diety in which they devoted their craft and sought the approval of. Dionysus honored The Mirthful, God of Revelry and Inebriation, Anchises had The Patient, Goddess of, well, patcience and the Elderly, and Diuja supposedly had The Honeyed, Goddess of Fruit-Trees and Persuasion. But, The Honeyed had not been as powerful as the other two for quite some time, and one family in particular were eager to prove she still walked with them. Thus, on this particular occasion, a young woman named Ruche entered the depths of the Elk-Mothers Forest until she found a clearing blanketed in shade from the thickest of the forests canopies. There, she placed her offerings, a pristine apple, freshly picked, paired with a mixture of honey and three drops of her own blood, pricked from her tongue. She closed her eyes, she took a deep breath in, and she called for The Honeyed. But, the Goddess had not been The Honeyed for quite some time. Not since she alone was barred from the divine union of The Stalwart and The Flowing. Not since she cried until her eyes bled and cursed every mortal those two had held dear. Not since she fled into the depths of the ocean, turning it salty and nigh-inhospitible in her wake. What was once The Honeyed was now The Slighted. But, Ruche still got her attention. Appearing from that dark space, a woman with marble-pale skin and high, curled golden hair stood before the girl. In a voice that was at the same time intoxicating and grating, she asked the girl what it was she wished, to call upon her of all people. Ruche, nervously, explained her families meadery was close to ruin, and that they needed the blessing of The Honeyed to remain in business. They needed to win this years competition, no matter what. In the girls words, The Slighted found a fire familiar to her, although she laughed as no one had called her The Honeyed in many years. She told the girl that she could promise her the victory in this years competion as well as ensure fortune for her families future. But, in return, she would need to follow her directions To.The.Letter. Nervous, but lacking options, Ruche agreed.The Events
So, The Slighted directed Ruche to a secret grove, tucked away from all time and space, only reachable by The Ascendants, and even then only by those who knew how to find it. Within, she would find several gorgeous trees bearing all kinds of fruits, with a massive one in the center bearing Apples of all hues. With the protections provided by The Slighted she would be allowed only to pick the Golden Apples from that tree, and she was only allowed to take one. Furthermore, once she won, she was to extol the name of The Slighted as her patron, no one and nothing else. Three simple things, and her fortune was guarenteed. What could possibly go wrong? As Ruche moved swiftly and stealthily through the forest, she found the gleaming door to the Divine Grove, and despite the watchful eyes of its defenders, she found fortune bent in her favor. Their attention would turn just in time, a branch would not snap under her feet, or the bough of the other trees would provide her just enough cover. Slowly, carefully, she made her way to that grand tree in the center, drooping down akin to a willow but stretching far enough into the sky it could eclipse the sun even at high noon in the right location. And there, she found one drooping branch, large enough to be a tree in its own right, with gleaming the gleaming Golden Apples. She resisted the urge to pick any of the other fruit, although the various hues, shapes, and gleams turned her curiosity. But then, the time came to pick the fruit. One apple would be large enough to appropriately flavor one gallon of mead, all that was required for the competition. However, a curious worm entered her mind in that moment: what about afterward? If she wanted her families business to thrive, they couldn't just have one victory. Then, even their best brews and recipes would seam mediocre and meager. The Slighted had kept her word so far, but what does the future of mortals matter to a goddess, especially one who had, in Ruche's opinion, turned so sour and fickle? And so, in order to plant the literal seeds for the future, Ruche stole not just one apple from that branch, but three. As she stashed away the two extra ones into her bag, carefully covered in cloth to prevent injury, she raced back towards the mortal world, feeling the eyes of gods far too close to her back. But if their retribution was to come to her, it didn't befall her that day. She escaped that grove, escaped from the depths of the forest, and made her way back to Diuja. With a handful of months left to go before the competition, she presented her family with the apple, only telling them that she had found a hidden patch in the forest. Under the cover of night, she went out to her families own grove and opened her pack, seeing just the one extra apple inside. She looked around frantically for the second she hid away, but after nearly an hour of searching, she figured it was another trick of fate. Nonetheless, she had one, and those seeds would have to be enough. She planted them as best she could, and prayed to a variety of gods to bless the process of growth, including The Slighted herself, promising that each apple would be devoted to her and her alone. It seemed to work, as the seeds grew from saplings to full trees in a manner of weeks! Eventually, the Ferment Festival was upon them, and Ruche's family was soaring through the competition. They had spent two years on their brews through the rest of the competition, but the piece de resistance would be saved for the final tasting. To no ones surprise, the mead infused with The Slighteds apple was found to be delectable. Sweet, tangy, with that signature apple crispness that made the taste of alcohol pop on the tongue but glide down the throat. It easily wowed the judges in that final competition, more so than the usual winners from Dionysus and Anchises. It had finally happened, Diuja had won the Ferment Festival, and so did their patron...The Honeyed... When the time came for the family to give a speech to close out the competition, Ruche was chosen to represent them, as it was her journey that won them the victory. As she stood, she gave thanks to many individuals, mortal and divine alike. But then, she began to wonder. If she truly thanked The Slighted as her patron, what would that make her family look like? Worshippers of a petty goddess? Maybe even cheaters, as her domain was that of strife and discord! She did cheat, in a way, would extolling her true name give up that goat? No, she needed to make sure this victory remained a gold star on the families ledger. She would not let them fall to ruin, not in her lifetime at least. The final deity she praised, was that of The Honeyed, who Ruche said would live within every sip of their new brew.The Slighting
For weeks after the fact, Ruche was ridden with nightmares each and every night, horror stories of something growing beneath her skin, waiting to burst with vile laughter. She knew she had done wrong, that even her workaround, using her former name, wasn't enough for their deal. But on the outside, nothing was different, so maybe her nightly torment would be the extent of her payment? She would only be so lucky... In time, her quickly sprouted trees fully grew fruit, and her family made the first official cask of Golden Apple Mead, emblazoned with an icon of The Honeyed in her divine form. As a celebration, they would all test their drink with a toast at dinner. It would be their final libation. As the last drops of the mead slipped down their throats, their stomachs would begin to churn and bubble, all save for Ruche, watching in abject horror. Many of them felt intense fear, and began to flee from the home, racing through their grove. It would not last them long, as their feet turned to roots, burrowing into the ground, and locking them in place as their bodies elongated and warped, before being granted the blessing of non-sentience as they turned to bark and branch and leaf and fruit. Those who did not run grew within their homestead, growing large and volatile to shatter the ceiling and the supports of the home. For this monumental dinner, the whole family had gathered. Aunts, Uncles, Elders, Cousins, everyone. A family more than 20 people strong became the foundation for a brand new grove of warped, haunting trees, bearing the most beautiful golden apples one would ever lay their eyes on. In the aftermath of that dark evening, Ruche could do nothing but sit and cry in silent horror, wondering why she was the only one spared. Her answer would come soon enough, as the figure of The Slighted suddenly appeared once more, lounging against the tree nearest the horrified young woman. She plucked an apple from the tree, and took a large, vicious bite. It was just as sweet as she could make it. Ruche didn't even have the energy to scream "WHY!?", but her eyes did the talking for her. "We had a deal, you went back on it. Them's the breaks, darling mortal. But, we can make another one." Ruche was put to task. Her, her children, her children's children, her entire bloodline would make mead from this new grove. They would do so with care, with grace, and with proper respect to The Slighted and The Slighted alone. Furthermore, they would properly name her their patron, and emblazon their mead with her NEW visage. Then, once they reached their time of death, they would join their family in the grove. If she did this, then all would be forgiven, and their original benefits would still stand. Plus, The Slighted would ensure that their families souls would be preserved and safe. But, if even once they failed to give her and the process the proper respect, their souls and fortune would be forfeit, and everything about them would be reduced to ash. For this deal, no subterfuge would be committed, and to this day in Diuja the clan Ruche practices a closed ritual when harvesting apples for their popular Golden Apple Mead, labeled with the icon of a gorgeous mermaid, with high bundles of golden hair, with a wry smirk painted on her face.Historical Basis
The Ferment Festival is a yearly event in the eastern portion of Atalanta, stretching back for millennia! Furthermore, there is a long history of Diuja's misfortune, save for a handful of victories over the years. However, while Clan Ruche is accounted for, no tragedy like described in the story has even been detailed. Whether or not this tale began as propaganda for or against the families mead is unknown, but the brew is a very real and popular beverage across all of Atalanta.
Spread
This myth is mostly spread only in The Mirthful Cities and the surrounding area, where even then it is a more niche story, often saved for ghost stories or tales of caution. While writers and chroniclers have recorded it in tomes that exist in many locations, its not the most read-up-on subject.
Cultural Reception
For those who know the tale, it casts some doubt and caution in regards to Golden Apple Mead, but most of them ignore the story as some cautionary tale about the importance of keeping your word, or some even think that the clans continued success and existence is just proof they learned their lesson, and make a damn good brew on top of it!
Date of First Recording
9/22/-372 EE (28 Isolated Era)
Date of Setting
Unknown
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