Look like we have a running theme of Bruno being... Bruno... I won't tell anything more.
It's pretty shorter than the rest but I do believe it's just fine as it is. Also, it's related to the Hairdye chappie, in a way... let's say this is when Bruno's career kicked off. I am sorry i haven't updated in a long time.
Like my ohter Animamundi fanfic, this bit is dedicated to the awesome A Libertine So Grim, that is, Master. Because it was when discussing with her that i suddenly got the idea... Also, i might have some 'Anima Cast needs a therapy' fic... any ideas or chara request? If you have any other question about some Animamundi characters that you may want to see answered here, please, just ask me in a review or by PM. Now, on with the infamous:
There shall only be... none!
Despite a reputation that might send all the Dark Lords from ancient times running for cover, Bruno Glening was by no means who you can call an evil man. Away with the 'rejected kid gone evil' stereotype, this is not what happened. Oh no, the story that is that of Bruno Glening is really different. Or maybe not?
The wails and running feet that could be heard throughout the castle were indeed proof enough of something wicked occurring… and the creepy laughter that arose did not help either. In short, the Knights of the Guard would not risk a single hair out of their quarters. Of course, they should protect the king… but we all know how it worked: how can I save the king if I die first? A very clever question and one still to be answered.
However, should one follow the screams, one would arrive at the royal apartment, precisely, the king's room. Here laid King Hardland XIII, pushing against the window as if he thought that pushing it enough would allow him to break through. He forgot that those window panes were extra solid to prevent just that – someone throwing a monarch by the window. For once, Hardland wished the security system was not so good. The room was dark and the nightly chill surrounded the king like a blueish shroud, eerily reminding him of Eidellune. How appropriate. Fear ran down his spine, making his skin crawl with the knowledge that it will soon be over. He did not want to end like this – this is not how a king is supposed to end. No, a king should end in a radiant moment of wisdom, some would say in a flash, like a shooting star. In that case, more like a shooting start. Footsteps could be heard in the corridor, slow like a cat on the prowl. The carpets muffled the creaking of the wooden floor, like a pillow muffling… dear God, he should not think like this… it was too horrible. His bones felt like ice, freezing his flesh while clammy hands came to his face, trying to hide the inevitable. The steps stopped – right before the door he knew it. He stopped breathing, suddenly scared. That man had the keys… he could enter as he wished and the king could feel the smirk on the other's face.
"Your Majesty…" Oh, that saccharine voice, so despicable. How could someone with such policed manners be such a beast? He knew what this voice meant… no sense in hiding – he knew. But what? What does he know? How could he know?
He could hear it, the clutching of the key, the rasping of the lock – door creaking open. He could see his tall shadow in the frame. Approaching slowly – he could see it. A silent scream escaped the king's parched lips as he saw the tool of the trade. The deadly weapon ready to commit that heinous crime against his person. The sharp sound of the almost surgical device being tested, the silvery glint of the blades. Everything felt like a nightmare. It was a nightmare. He would wake up soon.
"My King… you know it is not nice to try and hide something of such importance from me. I am your most loyal servant after all." Again, the mockery and conceit. He could not believe the sheer attitude of this man. How dare he? The question was not how, just that he simply dared, which is much more daunting.
"Begone you monster! Do not approach me further! I am King!" Panic could be heard in his voice and he saw the smirk on the other's face grow wider. The brilliant shades displayed in his eyes were showing him Hell and there was no way he could escape from it. He could see it… the blades, the smile, the laughter, the aseptic scent of the man's clothes. He was lost. He screamed.
The day after, the terror that shook the palace on its foundation seemed almost forgotten, though everyone seemed to be extra cautious around the king. No one dared to speak in front of him, for fear of their vocal chords forming sounds that did not belong to the circumstances. However, whenever the king was out of earshot, we could hear their heated talk.
"Did you see the King's hair? So smooth and shiny… seems like he go the ends trimmed as well."
"And his pigtails, did you see? I swear, they rival that of Captain Ramphet!"
"True that." And so they went, unaware of the looming figure that spelled impending doom to anyone coming in a radius of 10 meters. To say that Mikhail Ramphet was angry was like saying that St Germant was a tad bit eccentric: a plain understatement. He was beyond rage right now. How dared he? HOW DARED HE?
It was without counting another figure on the other side of the courtyard that walked with a spring in their step. Here went the Royal Physician, Bruno Glening. He looked pretty happy with himself and, as everyone knew in the palace by now, this never bode well for his last guinea-pig. As things stood, Bruno was floating on a pink, fluffy cloud of shampoo-ness, reviving his last evening. Oh, how he remembered it well – and with such fondness he would almost ask himself out if he was just a bit more off his rock of solid soap made in Eidellune. The memory still made him smile in pure bliss… those words…
"How did you know about it, Bruno?"
"Majesty, I thought I made myself clear: as long as I work here, there shall be no split end in my presence." And the scissors cut neatly the incriminated hair at the same pace as some hyperactive cheetah.
Oh, Gods he was happy. Nevermind the King sulking on his throne, looking like some dessert. Nevermind this sour-faced knight. As long as he will be here, split ends will not stay! Going to his laboratory, he caressed almost sensuously his beloved pair of scissors, relishing in the sharp neatness of their blades.
The thought of Bruno doing some... unorthodox things to his scissors is also quite appealing... but I might also do something about the Pope... why was Bruno REALLY kicked out of Eidellune?