Knight of the Void

by sagitarius

It's been over twenty years since Ilias' defeat, and even though some still can't accept is, Humans, Monsters and Angels can live in peace. Luca and Alice (among others) have a family now and must help lead the world to a long lasting peace. But this isn't their story. This is the story of their son, a girl, an event that brought the two together, and the adventures it led to.

13. Chapter 12

Neither Zero no Tsukaima or Monster Girl Quest are my property, nor do I make any money in writing this story.

Thanks again to Feng Lengshun for beta-ing this chapter.

Chapter XII Side A: Interludes 1

Siesta –To Run or Fight?

Comté de la Mott Mansion –After Fouquet's attack

Siesta sat worriedly on her bed, her mind, a whirlwind of thoughts. The day had… not gone the way she thought it would; the young maid still wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not

At first, she'd resigned herself to having her chastity stripped away from her before a day's time had passed as soon as news of her inevitable transfer had reached her. Siesta could still recall the moment of dread she'd experienced when Emma came into her quarters and told her about it the previous night. The old head maid of the academy tried to be impassive about it and had gone on to point out all the advantages of working for Comte Mott, all the while skirting around what they both knew would be the price for it all.

The reaction of all the other staff members to the news was inevitable. Head chef Marteau looked like he'd very much wanted to kill something the last time she saw the large man, chopping into the breakfast meats with a gusto that she could only imagine came from envisioning the lecherous Comte's corpse in its place. Ever the father-like figure that he was, he'd tried to hide it from her and had given her a final meal at the academy to remember it by; it would likely be the only time that Siesta would ever eat the same food that was normally only served to nobles. Brief though it was, the gesture had reassured her further.

The other cooks, maids and servants had similarly tried to cheer her up, trying to keep her mind off of what they all knew to be inevitable. None of them managed to hide their pity for her or, in the case of those close to her age, the guilty relief that it wasn't them in her shoes. Siesta couldn't blame the other maids and cooks for that though. They all knew of Comte Mott's infamous reputation and none of them would wish his attention to fall on any of them, regardless of the occasional squabbles and fights which inevitably rose from being colleagues.

It wasn't much of a surprise either. For all that Siesta was friendly enough (or so she was often told), the maid was also something of an introvert, preferring to keep to her books rather than socialize too much with the other staff members. She didn't snub them or anything, and the brunette often joined in on the conversations during meal times and when conversations were struck up between the other maids during their duties. But Siesta never took the effort to really get to know any of her colleagues; only Marteau and Emma ever really became close to her. She wasn't the bravest person socially –or at all for that matter– and only got close to the two most senior staff members of the academy due to their familial approach of leadership. To many, they were the second father and third grand-mother respectively, and Siesta was no different.

But the rest… the brunette would call them friends, true, but there wouldn't be emotion behind it. At best, they could be described as those far off cousins you wouldn't even know were family until someone told you about it. They were friends, but never close. Family, yet fragmented.

For that reason Siesta hadn't given them much time the night she'd been told the news, assuring them half-heartedly that she would be fine before finishing the rest of her chores for the day. After that she'd just… wandered around, not really aiming to go anywhere. She just wanted to be outside at the time.

It was an odd quirk, but the brunette had always found looking at the sky to be a calming experience, whether it was the cloudy sight of nearing rain, the light blue of a sunny day or the star studded darkness of night; the sight of the sky was always comforting.

Her grandfather told her once that it was genetic; that her great grandmother and grandaunt both took great comfort in the sky, as though it was a second home to them. How that was possible Siesta wasn't certain herself; the girl had always assumed that her grandfather's hometown, Remina, was situated on a mountain, but Loto Erdrick was always mum on the subject. Short of its name and the name of the continent it was on, she really didn't know anything about it.

Still, Siesta was grateful for the legacy she was left with if what her grandfather said was true. At that time especially, when she felt too scared to really do anything about her situation, she went out and looked to the sky to help calm herself. It worked out better than Siesta expected it to. Not long after she decided to return to her quarters, the brunette found herself running into Alex.

Alexander Fateburn… the thought of the young man had sent her heart beating more than once. In many ways, the teenager summoned by the youngest scion of the Vallière family was just too good to be true. Kind, hard working, humble, honest, and most of all, easily the bravest person she knew. Where other commoners would balk at the thought of confronting a noble, Alexander hadn't backed down at all; whether it was duelling Guiche de Gramont or pointing out his own master's faults.

She supposed it might have been because he himself possessed some form of magic, despite his status; that much was obvious to everyone at the academy ever since his duel.

The number of explanations for his ability and contrasting behaviour and style of dress were numerous amongst the students and, through their chattiness, the staff. Some believed him to be a noble's bastard son, others that he himself was born into nobility but had been cast out or stripped of the title; a few of even claimed that he was probably a former slave, though the connection of that last one and Alexander's magic was lost to Siesta.

But magic was rarely the sole reason commoners are afraid of nobles. Most, in fact, looked at magic in the same way they'd look at a sword; it could be a display to be awed and admired or an object that could inspire hope. Fear only came from knowing that it was in the hands of someone out to hurt you.

What truly scared Siesta and many others were the nobles' authority, influence, and temperament. With only a few words or strokes of a pen, a noble could ruin an entire town of commoners should they so wish; and indeed, many had wished similar for the smallest of slights. Magic was just the means by which they retained that power with little question, but it was the power itself which cowed the masses.

Alexander didn't have that authority anymore than fallen nobles did, yet it never deterred him from acting how he saw fit.

For that reason, more than seeing the night sky, seeing Alexander had strengthened Siesta's resolve to not only endure her tribulations but also ensure that no one else would suffer under it again.

Comte Mott's reputation was well known. He would make visits to other nobles in Tristain as was his duty, often find a young maid he fancied and would then offer to buy her contract. The maid would then disappear into the Comté de la Mott mansion for months, a large sum of money delivered to their families being the only indication that they were still alive until they would eventually be sold off to other nobles.

Well… most of them would. There would occasionally be those who chose to stay, but they were few and far in between, and for them, Siesta had only pity.

Still, those who did leave all refused to testify against the comte; Siesta could only deduce that it was due to fear of retaliation, or an attempt to forget about their time. But the few times they let slip about what they'd gone through –how Comte Mott had done all he could to break and remake them– was enough for anyone to figure it out; even if it was never enough for the courts.

"But I'll be different."

Those were the words Siesta kept telling herself after talking with the silver haired young man she admired so much.

"I'll tell all of Tristain; all of Halkegenia about Mott's crimes. Everything he'll do to me, I'll remember –no matter how hard it would be– so everyone will know about it."

It was with that goal in mind that she was able to let herself sleep that night; a dreamless slumber which she was thankful for, because even then, the maid wasn't certain what a nightmare would do to her resolve.

Come the next morning, she'd entered the carriage meant to take her to Comté de la Mott with an impassive mien and steel in her eyes, not once allowing a tear to form as the staff that had been like a second family to her –no matter how distant– saw her off with sullen faces.

…

…

And then Alexander had arrived and requested an audience for her sake.

Seeing Alex in the comte's study facing the royal messenger himself had, ironically, put a crack her determination. Yes, she wanted to expose Mott for what he clearly was, but if she didn't have to go through what those other maids went through; what all those other young women she'd seen in the mansion were clearly going through… it was a temptation that was very difficult for her to let go of.

The young maid was completely honest with what she said at the study earlier.

After all, for all that Siesta wanted to do, she was still just a mere maid of seventeen years; a commoner of little importance in the grand scheme of things, as far as she was convinced. There was no guarantee that anyone would listen if she had given testimony, and if that would have been the case, then the months of suffering she would need to endure would have been rendered useless.

Alexander's assurance had only driven the nails deeper into her coffin.

The young maid wasn't certain if she would have argued against him or just continued to stand aside had the choice been left in her hands. But the choice hadn't been hers to make. Comte Mott had sent her away, back to her cleaning the halls where –unlike at the academy– no one wanted to speak to her.

It was a complete contrast to the atmosphere in Tristania's Royal Academy. Where before, Siesta would remain mostly silent when she didn't have anything meaningful to add, here, she remained silent because no one wanted to speak. When she glanced at her new colleagues, she'd often find them looking back at her judgingly, as though trying to find… something… she didn't even know what it was that they were looking for.

It wasn't just the men either. The women working for Comte Mott, from the other maids to those working in the kitchens; all of them were more or less the same. Some looked at her with a trace of sympathy, very similar to the ones she got at the academy, if not as much; but none of them looked at all like she expected.

Where was the impassive lifelessness that came from detaching oneself from their emotions? The shifty eyes of someone scared of what they were certain was coming? Or pretty much everything else one would come to expect from young women working under someone who could do as he pleased with them without worrying about repercussions? Was that not how it happened in books of that nature? Certainly they probably weren't that accurate, but for such things to be completely absent? It didn't make sense to Siesta.

All the other maids did was remain silent.

With her fellow maids' reticence, Siesta was left to her thoughts; a part of her hoping that Alexander would be able to rescue her while the other argued with it, wanting to continue with her original plan. She'd remained in that state even during the slight panic caused by Fouquet the Crumbling Dirt's intrusion, though she'd inwardly cheered the thief on.

Even now, sitting here in her new bed and waiting for news about Alexander's and Comte Mott's negotiation, Siesta still wasn't sure which result she'd prefer.

"It isn't like I have much of a choice," she sighed to herself, hands cupping her face as she held back tears of frustration, "if Alex can't do anything about Comte Mott, I stay regardless. If he canconvince Comte Mott, I can choose to stay, but then what will my family think? Or the others at the academy? What would Alexander think?"

The maid all but curled into herself, burying her face in her hands as the conundrum swam around in her head. A part of her, small though it was, wondered why the problem even crossed her mind with equal intensity. She wasn't the brave type; that was a fact Siesta could freely admit to herself.

Siesta had always been the little coward, always afraid of stepping on someone's toes even when she knew she didn't need to. By all rights, seeing Alexander earlier should have made her feel like a heroine in one of those novels she liked so much. Instead, here she was, wondering if maybe being molested daily for who knows how long might be worth it to save people she didn't even knowfrom the same.

"Can Alex even convince Comte Mott to let me go?"

As if to answer her question, a knock came from the door, followed by Alexander's muffled voice calling out her name. Siesta sat frozen long enough for the sounds to repeat, a little louder this time. He didn't sound like how the young man she knew usually did. It was his voice, of that there was no mistake, but the tone he spoke with wasn't something she'd ever heard from him before.

Glum was probably the best word for it, and she could only think of one reason for that.

"At least now, the choice is out of my hands."

Now able to put her dilemma behind her, the maid schooled her expression as much as she could, not wanting to make this any harder on the one who'd tried to rescue her. At least that was something she was used to doing, even if she apparently wasn't very good at it.

Straightening out her uniform, she made her way to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it with a small smile on her face. It was fake; she knew it was, and she was certain that Alexander would notice too, but it was there. The question of choice was gone, Siesta knew it the moment she heard Alexader call her name, and became certain of it when she saw his face.

He couldn't even look her in the eye once it fully registered to him that she'd opened the door, his gaze veering towards the doorframe.

There was an awkward silence as the two stood on either side of the wooden arc. All the while, Siesta tried to keep a brave face, telling herself that this would all be worth it; that nothing had changed from what she originally planned to do. She was ready for it earlier in the morning and she'd be just as committed now.

"I… probably don't need to tell you that I couldn't get Comte Mott to revoke your contract with him."

Siesta curtly nodded her head, though the other teen likely didn't see it. She'd expected as much already.

"It's alright, Alex," she tried to reassure him, even though her own voice broke from uncertainty, "Comte Mott isn't known for keeping most of his maids on staff for too long. I'll… probably be fired before the year is done."

Normally, knowing that should have been a cause for alarm, in this case, it was her only godsend, now that her proverbial knight in shining armour couldn't do anything. Even someone like Alexander had limits to what he could do. As it was, she was just happy that he was willing to break the news to her himself.

After another bout of silence, the silver haired teen looked up to meet her gaze, his own comforting smile on his face. It was much more genuine looking, Siesta noted, at least as far as she believed when compared to her own. There was even a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"I did manage to get him to promise not to do anything that would be considered… sexual harassment I believe is what it's called," he said, his tone tapering off wonderingly at the end.

If what he'd said hadn't surprised Siesta so much, she might have found his confusion odd. As it was, the maid's mind was a little too shocked by the news that he could actually get a promise like that out of the infamous nobleman.

It didn't last long though. She couldn't understand why Comte Mott would even bother giving that kind of lip service, but it was obvious to her that that was what it was. That Alexander would be naïve enough to believe that when even she could see the obvious lie was just another surprise for her, if one better hidden.

"Maybe he's just trying to convince himself?"

It was a logical conclusion. Siesta had seen many others do the same when something particularly bad was going to happen. "I guess he isn't that different from other commoners after all," The brunette smiled at the thought. It was good to know that someone as amazing as Alexander still thought a lot like a commoner; he didn't let the ability to use magic get to his head, even in a kingdom where it was seen as the sign of nobility.

"If that's the case, then I suppose everything will be okay," Siesta smiled as she spoke, the lie rolling easily off her tongue and she wondered to herself if it could fool the young man in front of her.

He laughed mirthlessly in response, shaking his head in bemusement with what Siesta could only identify as self-depreciation. "That's true at least. You didn't want to work here because you thought Comte Mott would rape you right?" The ease with which he said that last sentence alarmed Siesta somewhat, treating the subject as though it was an everyday thing.

Was the situation in his homeland not that good? There was probably more to the acceptance of polygamy where he came from than he'd mentioned. Her grandfather never said anything about the matter, and she was certain they came from the same place.

Wandering thoughts aside, Siesta answered his question with a nod.

It actually managed to bring a smile that looked genuine to her, if also much… sadder than she'd expect from him normally.

"Then I guess it'll just be enough for me," he said with a reassuring tone, though who he was trying to reassure now, she wasn't quite certain. "Although…" Alexander's face fell as he started again, "I can't say I'll have an easy time talking to your grandfather after this."

That, more than anything, seemed to bring his mood lower than anything else. It left her wondering why that was the case.

"I'm sure it'll work out," she said without thinking, although it she still thought it to be true. Her grandfather wasn't one to blame others for something they could do nothing about, and as much as she appreciated Alexander's efforts, it was obvious that simply walking into the Comte de la Mott's mansion wouldn't have solved anything.

It was already a wonder that he was even allowed to have an audience in the first place. Comte Mott wasn't exactly the kind of person one would normally expect to entertain an unknown commoner who just came up out of nowhere, especially at night. Even more was that he was actually allowed to discuss the matter further instead of just being dismissed outright once the nobleman had heard his reasoning.

"I'm not so sure your grandfather will agree."

Alexander's glum statement brought the maid out of her musing, and she turned her attention back to him. The silver haired youth was looking down, his features barely in her sight, but he was clearly frowning again.

Before she could so much as think of what to say to lift up his mood however, the silver haired teen had already managed to do so himself. Taking a deep breath and putting on a brave face, he looked into her eyes with resolute gleam in his own.

"Regardless, I've done all that I can, and I'll take responsibility for my failings," said Alexander, seeming to pick just where he'd left off, "I apologize that this was the limit of what I could help you with. I understand that a compromise like this might not be the most desired, but it was the best I could do."

Siesta couldn't help but smile at the silver haired teen, his golden eyes showing as much regret as reassurance. The maid wasn't someone who would consider herself good at reading other people's emotions –far from it, in fact– but there were some things that you just see so many times that it becomes easy to spot. Right now, Alexander had her grandfather's eyes whenever he talked about how he was found near Tarbes.

She remembered how he would always talk about regretting his weakness at the time, and of how he would live on to ensure that the efforts of his sister wasn't wasted. Her grand aunt; someone whom Siesta had never met, but a woman she could already say she knew so well.

Siesta took heart in that expression, steeling her resolve to see through the ordeals that would surely come at her in the next few months. As much as she'd like to believe that Mott would keep to his word, she wasn't anywhere near as naïve enough to think that a nobleman as corrupt as the palace messenger would honour it.

But Alexander did. That naiveté was… refreshing, if Siesta was being honest. It made the teen something other than the larger than life storybook character she first thought of him as.

"I just hope it'll still be there once I'm done with this."

"It's alright Alexander," she said with a hint of cheer, despite her thought process, "You've managed to do more than I could ask for."

It wasn't long after that when the two said their goodbyes, both of them believing that they wouldn't see each other for a while; one believing the time to be much longer than the other.

Siesta still kept the determined look on Alexander's face in her mind, along with the same mien on her grandfather's. 'I'll get through this' and similar phrases repeated like a mantra in her mind.

Perhaps if she'd seen Alexander's disheartened countenance after her door was closed, she would have begun to have second thoughts. But Siesta hadn't seen it, hadn't noticed deep disappointment which hung over the young man throughout their short meeting. So she kept thinking of her goal and how best to achieve it.

The princesse of Tristain –the highest ranking power now, with the queen effectively refusing to take on any duties– was known to be a fair and kind ruler, even to the most out of the loop plebeians. If Siesta could just bring this matter to her attention, she was certain that something would finally be done about Comte Mott, his position be damned.

It wasn't much of a plan, admittedly. More like a goal, in truth. But it was something. It was hope; hope that she took with the determination inspired by the young man whom she'd met just a few days ago.

When another knock came from her door, quieter than when Alexander had done it, but also somehow firmer and more formal, Siesta was ready.

"Siesta, Lord Mott requests that you meet him in his study."

"I can do this. I will do this. Even if I have to go through hell for the next few months, I'll expose Mott for what he really is."

Outwardly, the maid stood up in attention, a grim frown plastered on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror provided for her, straightened her uniform once more, and schooled her features as close to a neutral expression as she could.

Satisfied, she turned to face the door and called out to the head maid: "Coming, Miss Felicity."

-X-

The short walk to the study was fairly uneventful. Felicity, who was both the head maid and the one in charge of all staff members despite her age, had kept silent for most of it, only taking the time to talk to one of the older maids on the way; passing along orders, as it were. Though the thirty something woman's reaction indicated that it was rather unusual, Siesta didn't mind it much.

Surprisingly enough, there were no guards posted outside the room, especially given the events that had occurred earlier. While Siesta wasn't privy to the details –in large part due to everyone else's reticence– it didn't take a genius to figure out that some kind of confrontation had occurred. The tremors were rather difficult to miss, and she doubted they would've been caused by anyone with good intentions in regards to the mansion.

She could think of one reason for the avoidance of protocol; the obvious one, and one which she was ready for… or so she tried to convince herself.

When Felicity had entered ahead of her –not even bothering to knock, another thing commoners would normally be punished for– they found Comte Mott seated in the same chair he'd occupied when Alexander had been with him earlier. He sat relaxed on his cushioned seat as he read off a document; one leg propped up on the other's knee.

Siesta was told to take the seat across from the Comte de la Mott. She complied, trying to keep her expression as close to neutral as possible. For all her effort though, Siesta felt –with no small amount of annoyance– that it was nothing compared to Comte Mott's complete lack of reaction to their presence. He'd simply sat there in a posture so assuredly ignoble that even a commoner like her could tell easily; his eyes moving one side to another as he read the document in his grasp.

It was clear that she wasn't supposed to speak yet, but this wasn't the time to rebel, she knew that much.

It wasn't a long wait; not even a minute before Mott physically noted her presence.

"Your friend piqued my interest quite a lot."

The nobleman spoke in a conversational tone; the document in his hands lowering just enough to look at Siesta, his posture changing to something more formal in appearance. She found his stare unusually unnerving, especially as it was not for the reason she would have expected it to be.

Siesta, for all that she wasn't a social person, was still very much familiar with the ogling eyes of lust that some men, and even a few women, directed at her. It was perhaps a small source of pride for the otherwise demure teenager to know that she was considered beautiful by many, though she certainly didn't think she deserved as much attention as she got.

Yet here and now, there weren't any lust-filled eyes directed at her, very much different from the last time Comte truly paid attention to her. Inexplicably, the thought came to her that she would've been more comfortable if he'd simply taken to undressing her in his mind again; that, at least, she would have been prepared for and more, as much as she would've hated it.

She felt even more exposed, if possible, than if that had been the case. Rather than just looking beneath the very much tighter normal maid uniform, Siesta felt like Mott was looking through her body and into her very soul.

Siesta didn't look away from those judging eyes, but she wondered to herself if it was because she unconsciously found the courage to do so, or because she felt like prey in front of a predator; nowhere to run and the only thing keeping her alive was that she had her killer in her sight. The maid gulped at the thought and wondered, not for the first time, if she'd bitten off more than she could chew.

Where had this side of Comte Mott come from? The question repeated in her head. She'd heard all the rumours about the man's personality; how could she not? He was infamous amongst commoners, especially young women; feared by many and hated by those who had personally seen the results of his actions. The nobles who didn't care much about his misconduct called him a joke, far too carefree and flippant, for his position.

She knew that not all rumours were true, but he'd more or less acted exactly as the maid had expected he would every other time she'd seen him; few though those occasions were. Even when Alexander had come for her, the only surprise was that Comte Mott had been willing to entertain his request. So-

"You're not very good at hiding what you're thinking about. Are you aware of that?" the comte asked humorously, a sentiment Siesta definitely did not share. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it's something along the lines of: why am I not acting the way I should be?"

He continued to comment after that; something about being jovial, but Siesta didn't fully comprehend it. Her eyes had widened and she felt her blood grow cold. "That… I just asked myself that…" she thought, trying to comprehend how it was that the nobleman in front of her had been so close to the mark. What he said may not have been her thoughts word for word, but it was so close.

"Is… is he using a spell to read my mind?!" she panicked inwardly, gulping as the implications of such a spell reached her, "Does he already know what I'm planning to do? Is he going to just kill me? Never let me leave?"

"There's no spell I know of that would allow me to read your mind, if that's what you're wondering. Although I suppose if that was the case, then I've already undermined the credibility of my statement," said Mott, completely destroying whatever credibility his assurance had. The nobleman shook his head chidingly. "Really now, I'm sure this isn't the first time someone's figured out what you were thinking of. You're just letting your fear make you paranoid."

Funny thing, paranoia; unless you become aware of it on your own, being told you were paranoid generally made you even more so. It added the fear of suspicion; of being mislead into a false sense of security.

Siesta was such a person who had yet to realize she may have been paranoid, and was thus rendered to shaking like a leaf, despite how much she'd prepared herself to confront Comte Mott. Then again, she'd expected an entirely more… physical confrontation, where she could detach her emotions and simply take it as a necessity to ending the man in front of her.

Comte Mott merely laughed at the sight, sparking anger in Siesta with its mocking tone. "You would do well to calm yourself down, Siesta. We shan't get anywhere unless you can properly listen to me."

No one spoke after that, the only sound in the room brought about by the deep breaths Siesta began to take. A large part of her told her not to believe Comte Mott's words; told her that he was definitely doing something to read her mind, but the rest of her tried to deny it.

It wasn't because she wanted to believe what he said, but more because she desperately needed it to be true. If he could read her mind somehow, then this would all be for nothing. Whatever method she could try go against him, he would stop her before she could start. She needed him to be incapable of reading her mind.

Slowly; ever so slowly; the repetition of her own assurance that Comte Mott wasn't reading her mind; fuelled by her desperation, allowed Siesta to regain her bearings. Her nerves were still shaken, but she was able to harness some of her courage; enough, at least, to calm herself and slow her breathing and heartbeat.

It didn't take long for Comte Mott to notice the change, a thin, amused smile forming on his lips. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked in a parody of a comforting tone. Still, Siesta decided to grudgingly humour him, nodding briefly.

For a moment, the mage's smile transformed into a victorious smirk; then all at once, it was gone entirely, replaced by a no-nonsense expression.

"Let's move on to the actual reason why I asked you here, shall we?" he asked.

At first Siesta believed it to be a rhetorical question, knowing well that most nobles –those like Mott in particular– cared little about a commoner's opinions and would just continue at their own pace. It was why the maid became a little confused when all he did was continue looking at her expectantly.

The maid got the message soon enough and nodded her agreement, though it was slow and puzzled.

The nobleman didn't miss a beat, but the sudden change in his mien made it so Siesta couldn't say the same for herself. "Tell me: How much do you know about Tristain's royal family?" ordered Mott, his eyes breaking from their stare and closing meditatively, his hands steepling in front of him.

-X-

Comte Mott – Truth and Lies.

"Checkmate."

That was a word that Comte Mott was very familiar with; one that had left his mouth more than often enough, but had never been at the receiving end of. Right now was no different; it wasn't even the first time he'd played against royalty, though his last such opponent was a king.

The two players didn't do anything but stare at the board between them as the seconds ticked on; one with resigned frustration and the other, impassively. It was inevitable that this would be the result once they'd continued their game. The only thing Fouquet managed to do beyond what he originally expected was serve as a temporary distraction for them both.

Finally, resting his elbows on either side of the board and steeping his fingers to rest his chin on, Comte Mott decided to break the silence.

"I do hope you'll be honouring our agreement, Alexander," he said neutrally, his expression as blank as his tone.

The foreign prince fixed him with a brief glare for the implied accusation.

"I assure you, Comte Mott, I am a man of my word," Alexander replied with a similarly detached voice; a small surprise to the older man, as not many managed to do that at his age. "One favour, so long as it is within reason and under my power to grant."

The nobleman sat straight with a smirk on his lips. "Glad to hear it," he said before standing up, followed shortly by his guest. The comte extended his arm forward, hand opened welcomingly, "A good game, either way. I'll inform you of when I decide to make good on that favour."

Alexander nodded acceptingly, his own hand reaching out to shake the nobleman's.

"I imagine you'll wish to see Siesta before retiring to bed?" Mott asked as their handshake broke, "given that Ms. Vallière and her companions still have classes early tomorrow, you'll likely be leaving before she even wakes up."

"Yes, I probably should do that," he sighed, clearly still upset about his loss, "It would be better if I told her myself anyway."

"Most likely," the nobleman agreed, before looking to the side.

There was a new addition to the room from when the two had left to see to Fouquet's attempted theft. A young woman, twenty years old, with auburn hair down to her mid-back stood professionally by the exit, her hands together in front of her waist in a show of subservience.

She wore a similar red uniform to Mott's other maids, save for a few details: more prominent head-piece, a ruby brooch fastening her collar rather than aquamarine, higher necked apron and slightly longer skirt. The whole ensemble, normally designed to make the maids at his mansion look as tantalizing as possible, was marred by the bits of dust, earth and rock that had yet to be removed after her encounter with Fouquet.

"Felicity, please escort our guest to Siesta's quarters," Mott ordered, receiving a nod and affirmative reply from the maid. His gaze darted back towards the foreign royalty before him, "This is Felicity," he introduced, "as I'm sure you've already figured out, she's the head maid of this mansion, and the one in charge of all my staff. I leave you under her care."

With a curt but polite thank you, Alexander Fateburn pushed back his chair and approached the door. Felicity greeted him with a small smile and silently opened it for him.

Right as he crossed the wooden arc, the silver haired teen looked over his shoulder at the older man. "Before I leave…" he trailed off, looking a little unsure of himself, only to steel himself with a deep breath and continue, "While I know it's hardly my place to ask this of the victor-"

"You needn't worry about Siesta's chastity," Comte Mott cut him off, a small smile of his own forming on his lips, "I've already told you about my practices with women, as difficult as it may be to believe. But if it eases your mind, I, Toussaint Guillaume Picquet de la Mott, promise that neither I nor anyone under my order shall commit any act which can be considered as sexual harassment to Siesta."

A look of confusion appeared on the prince's face, shortly changing to one of curiosity.

"Just like that?" he asked.

"Call it extra assurance if you will," Mott explained, laughing to himself a little, "Though I'm fairly certain you weren't lying earlier, a good rapport never hurts, and I can't very well just void Siesta's contract without reason now that I've won a contest for it."

Alexander frowned again, reminiscent of the one he had earlier.

"I see," he said simply, before turning around, "thank you for allowing me some of your time, Comte Mott. It was… enlightening, to say the least."

With that, he walked out of the nobleman's sight, Felicity trailing behind him shortly.

"Felicity, do come back as soon as you're certain Alexander no longer needs directions."

The comte heard an affirmative reply, from the maid just as the door closed completely, leaving him alone in his study.

His smile slowly waning, Comte Mott walked over to the other side of the room, his hand reaching below the ruffles at his neck. With practiced ease, he plucked a ruby brooch from where his cape would have been fastened.

He pressed it down –gem first– at the base of the wall mounted candelabra that served to light his home with its magical flame. The relief on the brass ornament –the symbol of House Mott– pressed into a mirroring pattern on the jewel. The familiar sound of clockwork began in tandem with the shifting of second bookshelf to his right. The imbedded case revolved into the wall to slowly reveal a similar shelf, if with obviously much older books.

Nonchalantly, he picked out one of the tomes, pulling it out of the tightly packed bunch with surprising ease and opening it near the middle. He kept shifting the pages as he walked towards his desk, making a detour to reacquire his brooch and consequently reverting his shelves to their original arrangement.

Comte Mott came about the page he was looking for just half way to his destination, a pattern of pre-Brimiric runes looking up at him from the bottom of the page. "Just as I thought," he muttered to himself, pulling out his chair and sitting on in automatic motion.

"Gandálfr; the Left Hand of God, Master of All Weapons and a familiar of The Void. I didn't get a good look at it before, but these are definitely the same runes on Alexander's hand." It was a suspicion he'd had since the brief glance he'd managed to get of the younger man at the academy, but now he had actual proof. "So this is why the church has been sending feelers into Tristain: Trying to find the one who had inherited Founder Brimir's element."

He'd been wondering about that for a while now. The reports of missionaries and other Romalians from many walks of life journeying through Gallia to reach Tristain for seemingly flimsy reasons starting from a little over a week ago had been a source of confusion until now.

"I'll have to ask Daphne and Amethyst to keep a sharper eye out for such people. Set up some more avenues for reconnaissance along the south. I'll also need to keep a better eye on the academy, with Louise Vallière as a Void Mage but how to do it in the shortest time…" he paused in his pondering, an idea coming to mind, "yes, that could work. I'll need to think up of a different tactic to accomplish it with as little risk as possible, but it should be feasible."

As Comte Mott returned to his previous mental topic, a look of distaste crossed his features as realization hit him with what could be another large source of intelligence. "I'll need to inform him as well, it seems," he grumbled internally before shaking his qualm about it away.

Regardless of his distaste for his colleague, he couldn't deny that the man was a fount of many connections which he wouldn't otherwise have access to.

"Best to just focus on what the information that I have now implies. If nothing else, I'll at least know how to best spread my resources."

It didn't take long from there to see where each piece fell into place. He recalled a time some years back when a similar event had happened in Gallia. A sudden influx of missionaries entered the country, supposedly in the hope of spreading greater understanding of the Brimiric faith, using the recent protestant uprising as a reason for its waning. An oddity, as the protestant uprising had begun almost two years prior.

"So Gallia also has a Void Mage. If that is so, then it stands to reason that one exists in both Albion and Romalia as well. That a similar event has yet to happen for Albion suggests that if this is true, then they haven't summoned a familiar yet… or they have, and has just been around for long enough that such records are beyond me. And as for Romalia…"

It would be almost impossible to get any information concerning a subject like Void users out of the Holy Empire. Ever since Saint Forsythe truly established the city-state as the centre of Brimir's teachings, it had been under the strict control of the Pope, his priests, and their Templars; knights of such obsessive devotion to the Brimiric faith that they would have been branded fanatical heretics –extremists– had they followed any other belief.

If a Void Mage had summoned a familiar in Romalia, they would either be a clergyman or templar themselves, or the progeny of one. Either way, the mage would be hidden away for their own protection, or if not that, then killed for blaspheme.

"If Romalia's Void Mage has yet to summon a familiar, searching for them is useless. If he or she was killed, then it no longer matters. If their death will lead to the birth of another Void mage, it only goes back to the first problem. But if they are hidden, will Romalia hide them from sight in some dungeon… or in sight, as a prominent member of the church."

The leader of the Templars, Guilliaume de Beaujeu was a possible candidate, attaining the rank of Grand Master at the unexpected age of seventeen. He was constantly surrounded by a group of knights under his direct command and had been attended by the same squire throughout his three years holding the position, anyone of whom could be his familiar.

The most recent Pope, Saint Aegis XXXII –or Vittorio Serevare, as he was known previously– could be a possible suspect as well; the youngest priest to ever be given the title and named –however unofficial– King of Romalia. Though few were aware, he was constantly guarded by one Julio Cesare, a priest-knight of some renown, locally; a possible familiar if there was one.

"Of course, that assumes that all Void familiars are human."

He skimmed over the book in his hands, turning the pages to read through the descriptions of the other familiars. It was an extremely old book, and for all his intelligence, the comte wasn't knowledgeable enough in languages which dated back to the Founders time to understand every word, but the general gist of three of Founder Brimir's familiars' capabilities were fairly simple; all of which pointed to a high probability of them at least being humanoid in nature.

Gandálfr, he already knew well. Its counterpart, the Right Hand of God, Windálfr, could control any beast, regardless of intelligence; likely, it meant that Windálfr couldn't be a beast themself. Myoznitnirn, the Mind of God, could utilize any magical artefact to its full efficiency, much like the way Gandálfr could utilize weapons.

The last one however… there were hints of a fourth familiar, if barely. Scant accounts existed in this and other ancient books of a fourth person who served Brimir and died long before the first crusade to the Holy Lands and little more than that. It wasn't even outright confirmation, Mott admitted to himself, but the presence of the number four was quite prominent with anything to do with Brimir.

Four elements separate from the Void, four kingdoms established after his death, even if one remained a city-state; accounts of four followers who served him. Once was happenstance, as anything could occur once. Twice, related to the same thing could merely be coincidence. Thrice and there was very likely a connection somewhere.

"The question stands: Does a fourth Void familiar exist? If so, then what can they do that would need to be erased from history?"

And really, there was no other explanation for the lack of a detailed mention of such a person, as anyone else directly involved with Brimir had at least a few accounts written about them. Knowledge about them had most certainly been erased, and if there was anyone who had the power to erase knowledge pertaining to Brimir himself… then it would be the ones who spread his teachings.

"I'll need to inform him of this too, it seems," Comte Mott decided with a frown, "random occurrences aside, his connections with the church should let him to gain some more information. I can infer nothing else from this; not without making many more assumptions, and I've made plenty as is. For now, I'll need to focus on keeping track of other foreigners entering from the south."

He closed the book and leaned back in his chair, thinking carefully about all his options. It would take two to three days to get any pieces in place for such a thing. For this, he actually thanked Romalia's tact. Aside from the highly visible and easily tracked missionaries, all other Romalians seemed to be heading for Tristain at different speeds, and from different parts of the border. As such, the number who'd actually reached Tristain was much lower than what informants from Gallia had indicated; though both would obviously be lower than the actual number.

Still, who to send where?

"Juliette is from the town of Virton; even if her training is incomplete, she knows enough to gather intelligence without being suspected if she plays the part of a traumatized girl returning home.

"La Rochelle provides the most problems. As the city with Tristania's sole Sky Port, it's under danger of attacks from the growing insurgency in Albion. It's also a very unlikely avenue of entry for Romalians, but still entirely possible. The number of hotels means that I can get two or three people stationed there easily, but the size of the city would still make information gathering difficult."

He paused for a moment, going over name and information in his head.

"Élise has proven herself to be excellent at getting information from men; placing her somewhere that local guards frequent would give the most efficient result. Lina and Eva are both familiar with city life and would be able to blend in, but Eva is still going through her paces."

He leaned down to his desk, resting his chin on steeped fingers, thinking it over again before mentally shaking his head.

"No, it's too much of a risk to put her there. I'll send Clara instead. She's more used to working in villages, but the woman's smart enough to adjust."

A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought.

"Enter," Comte Mott permitted, his mind instantly switching tracks.

Felicity came in shortly after, closing the door behind her and bowing politely.

"Lord Alexander has been escorted back to his room, Lord Mott," she reported, putting a proud smirk on the comte's face.

"You noticed it too then?"

Standing back up to full height, the auburn haired girl nodded curtly. "That's what you raised me to do," she replied nonchalantly, "it wouldn't be good if I didn't take such lessons to heart."

Her response washed away the nobleman's good cheer near instantly. Allowing his chair to support his weight, Comte Mott grumbled resignedly. "That what I taught you to do," he corrected her dispassionately, by now tired of what was a greatly repeated conversation, "what I raised you to be is a smart woman who can think long enough to make good decisions and fast enough for it to matter."

"And pragmatic enough to not care about the consequences as long as they won't harm me or Tristain as a whole," Felicity added, her face a picture of triumph, "I don't really see how the two are different though."

The water mage sat up straighter and made to say some form of argument, only to hold himself back with another sigh.

"Never mind; we've more important matters to discuss."

"Fouquet?" she guessed. Mott to shook his head negatively.

"You can tell me all about that in the morning. For now, I need you to do two things. First, I'll need you to write letters to Clara and Élise, tell them I need them to move to La Rochelle; they need to keep an eye out for anyone from Romalia, they should know what to do from there. Have Lina go there as well, and give Juliette a retirement package."

"I assume you'll want everyone else near the southern border to do the same," his head of staff interpreted, her own mind already working with the orders she'd received thus far. "Is there anyone in the south we should sell a maid to as well?"

Mott shook his head again. "No," he vocalized his answer, "You, more than anyone should be aware that we don't have anyone ready yet. Perhaps a month from now, though I don't believe they would be much use by then. We'll have to shift them instead. There are enough who've fulfilled their contracts to resign and find new employment."

"I see," the maid nodded acceptingly without missing a beat, "and the second task?"

Here, the comte broke the fast pace of their conversation as he began rethink the plan he came up with earlier. It was a bigger risk than he would normally be willing to take, but considering the circumstances and the personalities of those involved… "Yes, this can work."

"I need you to prepare my midnight tea set and bring Siesta here for it."

Felicity blinked owlishly at the order, confused at first, before her eyes widened in shock.

"You want me to do what!?"

The water mage didn't even bat an eye at the sudden rise in volume.

"I'm fairly certain you heard me correctly," he pointed out, his mind already working to find the best script to make his little plan work. "Have the others start at the dungeon as well. Tell them to prepare for a demonstration, and that they can stop early, as soon as it's done. The specifics will be up to you."

Felicity wasn't able to respond coherently, still flabbergasted as she was, her mouth gaping and closing like a fish's. The comte wished that he could have preserved the scene of it somehow. He'd made the girl so nigh unflappable that such a reaction was all but impossible now.

"Wha-but!... Lord Mott you haven't even vetted her yet!" the maid protested after regaining some of her composure, "she's untrained and still too afraid! If you send her out as is, she'll just be a liability!"

Despite his employee's shouting, Mott continued to keep his mien impassive, agreeing with all her points with short nods, confusing the younger mage further. He only held up a hand to stop her once she'd run out of breath. "I'm well aware of all those points," he said calmly, his tone causing the twenty-year-old to stop and stand at attention; a sight that was both warming and saddening for him. Still, the nobleman pressed on with his reasoning.

"Those trained in the dungeon undergo such training to prepare them to be of better use to the country. Without it, they are useless at best and dangerous to Tristain at worst. But that's only because where they are sent requires them to have skills which aren't normally acquired by anyone. Siesta, however, won't need it where she's going."

The auburn haired young woman scrunched her nose at his explanation, unsatisfied; "How do expect her to pass your Tea test then?" she countered, "and even if she does, how can you ensure her loyalty?"

Comte Mott smirked. "That's precisely the reason I'm going to have her take the test, though to call it that in this case would be unfair. After all, I don't intend for her to pass."

His response puzzled Felicity at first, her brow rising as she tried to figure him out. The nobleman was rather pleased that it didn't stay for long, her eyes widening ever so slightly to signal her realization. Still a work in progress, he noted, but one that was developing nicely.

"You're going to intimidate her into not betraying you?"

"Just so," Mott answered her incredulous question, "after all, if one must choose between the two, it is far safer to be feared than loved."

Felicity rolled her eyes, "I've read that book too you know," she reminded deadpan, "you made me read that book. It also says not to make people hate you; which isn't something you're really in a good position to do with someone so new given the reputation you've created for yourself."

"Actually, the exact line was 'A ruler ought to inspire fear in such a way that, if he does not win love, he avoids hatred'," Mott pointed out jokingly, receiving a not-so-pleased grumble in response. "Humour aside, I'm well aware of how all the new maids I bring in think about me; Siesta isn't much different. I'll simply take away her reason for hating me, as I always have. After all, it's worked well enough in the past to put some truth into my having a harem of maids."

He paused, eyes trailing towards where he knew the very book he quoted was hidden in his personal library. "Besides which, as much truth as there is to that book, it isn't perfect. There's a reason it wasn't the only one I've had you go through in your studies," explained the comte as he turned back to face his employee. "I will admit that what I'm about to do is a greater risk than I would normally be willing to take. However, given the opportunity it may open up for Tristain, especially if things will progress as I believe they will with Albion… the price is one I'm willing to pay. And at little cost to Tristain at that."

Felicity still grumbled to herself, albeit less intensely. "You're really certain about this?" she asked rhetorically, knowing already what the man in front of her would say, "You're certain you can make this work?"

"There is a good chance, yes. I would need to play on her fears quite heavily, but I believe what this would entail may be enough to keep her dislike for me from overcoming her fear… or at least long enough for it to not matter."

The maid pursed her lips, not liking Comte Mott's response in the slightest. Still…

"Fine, I'll have everything ready in ten minutes," she conceded with a sigh. "At the very least, this one probably won't join your line-up of bed mates."

It was the comte's turn to frown, noting her acerbic tone.

"Why must you always be so upset about that? Can you not allow an old man to have his fun?"

Felicity, whose arm was already half-way to the doorknob, paused and took a deep breath, letting it out in an annoyed sigh. "First of, you're only forty, and without a single grey hair to boot; you could hardly be called old," the maid pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Second, of course I would be upset about that. As much as I appreciate them staying here to help in maintaining everything in the mansion, that women close to my age would choose to lie with youis just… ugh…" she shuddered cringingly at the thought, "it's not as though you can even give them children either."

As much as Comte Mott prided himself in his emotional control, he couldn't help but laugh out loud the younger mage's words. "Yes yes, you've said as much countless times before, although I would think the fact they needn't worry about becoming with child is actually a high point. It allows them to still marry in the future without as much worry." He stopped laughing then, though the amusement never left his features, "Besides which, even if I could still have children, I highly doubt I could handle having another one. For all the love I give, I'm already having trouble raising the only one I have. It isn't easy to legitimize someone so few are aware of you know."

Felicity stopped again, this time on impulse; her cheeks blushing and her lips pursed tightly. She didn't speak though, leaving the room to attend to her next set of orders.

-X-

People were a predictable sort. It was a fact Mott had learned early in his life. Those who grew up in similar enough ways, raised under similar values would react in a similar manner to a particular event. That in itself was a simple enough concept.

Inferring from that, people who reacted similarly to a particular event or occurrence had likely grown up in similar ways. A perfect science it was not, and it isn't that hard to find outliers if one truly looked, but for the most part, people tended to follow a pattern. Learn the pattern and one can also learn how to work with it; influence it and those who follow it. Making commoner women like someone with a reputation like his is difficult, suffice it to say, yet getting them to be loyal to him (or rather, Tristain as a whole) and trust him was surprisingly easy.

Such a process, however, typically took months and a 'personal investigation' by certain better reputed individuals. To accomplish such on his own in one night… well… even Mott had his limits. Still, it was a necessity now, if what he believed about Alexander was correct (and which he was very confident it was).

Under different circumstances, Siesta wouldn't have been his first choice, or even last choice to send to the academy. But given how he'd come to learn as much as he had about the suspected prince…

"Tell me: How much do you know about Tristain's royal family?"

Mott closed his eyes before he had asked, his posture changing to one reserved for deep thought.

"Hesitation to answer; unsure of my motives. Will either answer with a generic statement or just mumble to herself."

Predicting how others reacted was an exercise he'd long ago devised, a skill he'd honed for three decades now; a necessity when he'd first began. It was something he was good at, and though it wasn't accurate all the time…

"Er… well… I've heard that the princesse has been doing more lately, and that Her Majesty is still grieving the His Majesty's death."

It was quite accurate now.

Mott opened his eyes only when she didn't continue, keeping them half lidded; a well practiced accusatory stare.

"And that's all you know?" he asked rhetorically, his tone even, yet mocking all at once, "Surely not. I know you're just a maid," the comte followed up immediately, cutting off Siesta's most likely defence, "but even commoners, especially those working in a royal academy, should know more about their rulers."

"Hesitant again. Still confused. She'll either remain silent or say-"

"It… isn't really my place to speak about such things."

Mott replied without missing a beat, "It is your place when I tell you to speak about it." Show your power; that you are in control not just because you are a noble. Such was an important lesson that most young nobles didn't really learn, believing that their inherited titles would immediately garner complete obedience.

"Fear will keep her from answering for some time and… anger?" Mott thought in surprise, noting the slight twitch on Siesta's brow, "Slight miscalculation then. Perhaps today's events changed something; or maybe her talk with Alexander before I called her? Regardless, readjustments will need to be made."

Outwardly, he sighed, relaxing his posture somewhat. "Let me make something clear then," the mage began, eyes now fully opened and meeting the brunette's. Her stare trembled and wavered, but there was defiance hidden there. "There isn't really a right or wrong answer to my question, merely an incomplete one. You've told part of what you know. I'll accept that. But it obviously isn't everything.

"… To that end, I suppose it would be best if I simplified my question. What do you know about the royal family as rulers? Are they kind? Merciful? Just? Corrupt perhaps? Do you believe them to be the kind who would let their people suffer when they have the ability to prevent it?"

"That gleam of rebellion… it keeps coming back. She wants to punish me somehow, even if she isn't sure how to accomplish it. If she believes that to be possible, then the answer should be-"

Siesta took a deep breath, gulped then looked up at him with a firm face, "No," she said, "I don't believe that Her Majesty or Her Highness would allow such a thing to happen."

The comte inwardly smirked, "And there's the first opening." He raised his brow disbelievingly, belying his minor triumph, "Oh? Even though most of them are just commoners?"

A trick question, really. The now late king, much as Mott disliked the man, had spent much of his time trying please the masses. Though this wouldn't have been a bad thing in and of itself, he'd done so at quite a great expense on Tristain. His daughter continued it to a thankfully more tolerable extent, but to those who couldn't see the damage done, they were of the same general opinion.

"I… I'm sure of it! His Majesty did everything he could to make things better for us commoners. Her Highness, Princesse Henrietta, has followed those same footsteps. She would never allow anything to happen to her people if she could do something about it."

Mott resisted the urge to shake his head at that. "If only you actually knew the truth, you wouldn't be so confident," he thought ruefully. "Still, for all the damage that foolish Albian has done, at least there is something there to take advantage of."

Yet even as Mott thought these things, his mouth had already taken the opportunity to act. "And yet I still hold my position; one that I have held since His Majesty, King Philip III's reign," he pointed out, almost as soon as the maid had finished speaking. It made her visibly flinch. "You said earlier this night that you wanted to stop working here because of my reputation, did you not?"

Siesta's back straightened at his reminder, her eyes dilating for a fraction of a second. She shook, not normally noticeable, but intensely enough to catch with a good eye, and reluctantly nodded her head.

"And this is spread all throughout the Tristain is it not? Perhaps even beyond the borders?" He didn't even wait for her to compose a reply, already knowing very well how far his reputation reached. "The things I do are practically an open secret, are they not? Something that everyone with old enough should know? And yet here I sit before you today, barely a reprimand to my name, and none of those I've received having anything to do with my lechery."

"There, I've lain bare a problem for you. Now, will you crumble and sink, or will you let your rage speak for you."

The brunette's head ducked low, her mouth trembling and her face a war of emotions; fear and anger in equal parts. The fear was good; useful. But that anger had to be quelled, or at least redirected to suit his designs better.

"Th… that's just… that's just because they can't find proof!" she finally shouted, looking him in the eyes once more, her whole body trembling yet not letting her break away from the unspoken challenge she'd made.

"The hard way it is then. All the better I suppose. All that frustration needs some outlet."

He smirked haughtily. "Indeed, I suppose that may be true," Mott conceded, "Founder only knows how many times people have been sent to my home to investigate such rumours. Why, Cardinal Mazarin himself has done so many times, and both the Her Majesty and the princesse have visited once or twice for a similar reason."

"But do you really believe what you've said is the truth? That all those sent here were just incompetent?" he challenged, eyes narrowing as the maid's gaze began to waver. By contrast, Mott's remained steady; bored and condescending.

"Plant the seed of doubt. Water it enough. Then-"

"Perhaps it would be better to look at things from a different perspective then?" he interrupted the brunette's musing with a flippant tone, leaning back and conceding in their unofficial stare-off.

"-cue the sun."

"I suppose it is understandable that someone like you would know so little about royalty and politics," he said with no small amount of superiority in his tone, "Let's try something you would know better then: Your friend, Alexander Fateburn."

Mentioning the prince by name got a much more evident reaction from Siesta than the last time he'd talked about him. It was already clear as day to him that maid had some level of infatuation for the boy; one which no doubt only grew after the events of the night even if he hadn't succeeded in his attempt at being a knight in shining armour. Whether Alexander felt similar was… oddly hard for Mott to determine, but it wasn't important either way.

"You don't need to worry; I mean him no harm," Mott said honestly upon noticing the girl's grit teeth, "even if I did, he's the familiar to a girl whose family I don't wish to have any trouble with."

"Not the least of which is because they would actually know what to expect from me."

The assurance seemed to have calmed her down somewhat, though definitely not enough to work with right away.

"I do so hate stalling."

"You must've known him for just around two weeks then, if that is the case," Mott said with a speculative tone, his body relaxing to a pose best associated with pondering. "That would be about the time of the Springtime Summoning Ritual, and I didn't hear anything about the youngest Vallière performing the summoning at an earlier time. Something like that would've surely been known to quite a few people, especially with such an unusual familiar."

"And isn't that a great understatement."

The water mage hummed a sound of triumph as he nodded his head and opened his eyes, sight focusing immediately on Siesta.

"Calmer now; just enough in fact. Unsure of where I'm going."

"You've known him for only such a short time," he pointed out matter-of-factly, "Yet you seem to trust him quite a lot already."

It wasn't a question, nor did Mott speak with even a hint of confusion, but Siesta nodded in confirmation with the same reluctance she seemed to have so often now.

The nobleman tilted his head just so, contorting his expression to a perfect mix of mocking and accusatory. "Do you think he's a fool? A poor judge of character?" Her face twitched and her teeth bared for a fraction of a second.

He didn't actually need to see it, but Mott took her reaction as his answer. He shook his head, chuckling in honest amusement. "Aren't you a contradictory young woman?" The nobleman began laughingly, "You don't think Alexander is a fool, yet you don't believe in what he says."

The confused frustration on Siesta's face was clear as day; her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. It was a little disappointing really, how blind she seemed to be about herself.

"He promised that there wouldn't be any consequences for answering me earlier, remember?" Mott reminded her helpfully, though the smugness in his tone likely erased whatever gratitude she would've had. Regardless, it got the reaction he was looking for; realization and a hint of panic. "Did you know that I promised him not to rape or harass you before he retired?"

"Sudden rise of the head, eyes going wide; I guess he told her about it, but no surprise there. Ah, she's glaring again… and now she can't even look at me directly. Jaw's trembling; she's gritting her teeth. Angry, but trying to hide it. She wants to make a rebuttal, but she's worried about how I'll react to it; still very tempted though.

"I need another opening to make this as effective as I can, but it doesn't look like she'll give it after just that. How to proceed though?"

Mott took a few seconds to keep thinking; an easy feat to get away with since Siesta still kept quiet and refused to look directly at him. "Can't keep this up for too long, otherwise I'll lose whatever opportunity I had."

"You don't think I'll keep my word, do you?" He asked rhetorically, "And yet Alexander was completely confident that I would. Don't you find that a bit odd?"

Mott let the comment hang in the air, eyebrow raised questioningly at the maid, waiting for her reaction. It didn't take long.

"Alexander is just… being naïve!" she protested, her hands clutching at the ends of the arm rest. The nobleman tilted his head in a show of confusion, his raised brow twitching just a little higher. "Alexander isn't from this country, or even Halkegenia! He doesn't know what nobles here are like!"

"And what are we like?"

Mott had timed his question well, cutting off the maid's rant as soon as his opening presented itself. He kept his tone at a complete contrast to Siesta's: calm, clipped, and with enough edge to it to stop her cold.

It was only then that the brunette realized she was actually looking down at the comte, having stood up in anger. Eyes wide, her body stiffened and seemed to remain frozen in fear, gulping as the ramifications of her actions finally hit her.

"She really is quite the coward," Mott noted inwardly, his steady, rebuking stare never fading, belying nothing of his internal interest, "So easy to scare and yet the mere mention of the prince can get such a strong fire rolling in her. Perhaps she feels more than just common infatuation. Either way, it'll prove useful."

Comte Mott allowed a smirk to play on his lips. He rose from his chair at a purposeful pace; fast enough to make a frightening image with his physique, yet slow enough to reinforce his control over the conversation. He remained just standing there, his posture perfectly straight, and arms behind his back. He looked down his nose at the made, condescension obvious in his gaze.

Before long, Siesta sank back to her seat. Her hands clutched at the hem of her skirt, the knuckles white from her grip. She was shaking like a leaf and her eyes were cast downwards.

"Such arrogant foolishness from a girl who knows nothing," the nobleman commented, his volume and tone set to make it seem as though he was talking more to himself than the one before him. "You readily presume that someone else is so inexperienced with the world and in judging others when you are possibly the worst offender of such in these halls."

Mott allowed the silence to settle, watching Siesta like a hawk. She fidgeted constantly; her head tilting up a little every now and then, trying to muster the courage to face him. Every little jerk and jolt of her body was a sign of insecurity.

"Seems I'm finally getting through to her."

"You've heard talk about me forcing myself on all the young women that I hire. I'm an unrepentant and corrupt noble using my status to have my way with whoever I want, when I want. Of using those like you again and again and again until I grow tired and throw them away like trash."

He continued on, listing all the things that nearly all of Tristain and beyond its borders said about him. Each one of them; each supposed crime of debauchery, every one more depraved than the last, all well recorded in his head.

"Tell me," he continued, pausing to walk around the table and in front of the maid; his looming shadow finally causing her to look up. He took her fear stricken face as a testament to the affectivity of his oration. "All those stories. All of my supposed conquests… who began spreading them? Do you know?"

Siesta seemed completely tongue-tied despite the simplicity of the question, her body pressed tightly to the back of her seat. Her arms shook with every breath she took, each one coming so fast she was just short of hyperventilating.

"Perhaps… I was a little too effective."

With a humph and smirk brimming with satisfaction, he turned his back from the maid; a display of fearlessness as he returned to his seat. Looking back at Siesta from there, he'd noted how her breathing had slowed somewhat.

He relaxed himself in his chair, resting his chin on a fist and propping the foot of the same side over his other knee. Mott kept observing Siesta nonchalantly, his free hand tapped on the horse shaped hand rest in a steady rhythm.

It was slow progress, but Siesta was clearly regaining her composure. The Comte had to give credit to the girl's resilience; coward though she was, Siesta managed to keep from fainting or having a full blown panic attack.

Mott idly wondered how many hours were left before sunrise. The difference between getting Siesta back to the academy today or tomorrow wasn't too great and he could do either without rousing suspicion. Still, a lot can happen in just one day; the event that led up to what was happening now was proof enough of that, and it would better to have his ears on the ground as soon as possible.

Despite that, the nobleman maintained his patience, waiting for the brunette to actually look at him again before acting.

"Well…?" he finally urged on, his expression questioning.

Siesta looked back at him confusedly at first, still with the occasional tremble, but keeping her composure. It dawned on her eventually, the slight widening of her eyes indication enough for Mott to know that his words from before her fit had finally registered in her head.

She eyed him warily, and Mott could only assume that she was still thinking about what he was asking about. It was a good sign as far as the comte was concerned; it meant that the brunette was truly beginning to doubt the conventional opinion of him.

Siesta had, after all, already given a good enough answer earlier; that no one could find proof, up to and including testimony from all his supposed victims.

"The best way to lie is to let those who you are lying to make the lies for you."

A simplistic policy and one that he'd drilled heavily into his agents. It wasn't luxury that they would always have, but judging from all that he'd heard, they quite clearly tried to follow it as often as possible. What had happened to all his previous maids before they were 'let go' was one such lie. The image of him being lecherous abuser of his authority hadn't been the intended effect with his first few agents, but the result had served him well regardless.

Not as much for his current situation, but this said very little given how unique the current circumstance was. Nothing like this would happen again anytime soon if he could help it. Trying to convince Siesta or anyone with such a heavy time restraint was too much trouble and too risky for him to want to try it again, as fun as picking out all her little reactions was.

"Speaking of reactions…"

Siesta's body had slumped; it wasn't by much and would've hardly been noticeable, but it was there.

"You've realized it then, have you not?" he voiced his deduction, "not a single one of the maids who've worked here have ever spoken about any of the crimes that so many people have attributed to me."

Siesta's hands clenched. "They said enough," She argued, "they said that you all but broke them, rebuilt them according to your desires."

"A direct quote," Mott quickly pointed out amusedly, "It does serve to paint me as a lecher, I will admit. Yet, at the same time, it can also mean so many different things."

"Like what!?" the maid suddenly shouted, glaring at him. The Comte met it with little more than tilting his head to the side.

"Arms shaking, knuckles going white, teeth clenched and easier to provoke a hostile reaction. People really don't like it when something they're so sure is true actually becomes false. Then again, it doesn't take much to figure out that a deception like this wouldn't be something all my agents could collaborate on by themselves. Deception on that level… yes I suppose if exposed so suddenly to it, this sort of reaction is expected. Still, it works for my purposes."

A smirk spread on his lips.

"Would you like to see for yourself?"

-X-

Comte Mott, now with staff in hand, led the way to what he called –with rather disturbing aptness– The Dungeon.

Now, when one thought of the word 'dungeon' and connected it to someone with Mott's infamy, the first image which would likely come to mind was a cold, dimly lit room made entirely of stone and filled with torture devices designed for sexual endeavours. Had he been more vindictive a person, the comte would argue that any dungeon could be described in such a way if one was imaginative enough with the common implements.

Regardless, the actual Dungeon in his estate would have fit the description perfectly if one erased the latter most qualifier. Of course, while many have, had, and likely will call them torture devices, Mott preferred to call them training equipment.

It was always fun, seeing a potential new recruit's first reaction to The Dungeon. That the entrance (or at least the one he often used) was hidden in his bedroom generally brought up certain expectations, and not once has ever seeing what really went on beneath the Comté de la Mott failed to surprise people.

Even with the limited view from the stairs, he could see the two most senior trainees, Juliette –a relatively short seventeen-year-old with shoulder length red hair– and Anna –a twenty-year-old of average height and with dirty blonde hair in a ponytail– looked like they were racing on the obstacle course. The taller, older girl had quite the land advantage, but Juliette was quick to compensate with her size and experience and was a much better climber to boot. They were being timed by an older redhead, Selene, one of the admittedly significant number of maids who preferred to keep working in the mansion even after proving themselves fit for the field.

Near a corner, five others were flinging throwing knives at padded crystalline dummies. All but one were rather ineffective about it which made sense; Fleur, the only one who managed to throw consistently was another stay-in and the four she was instructing were at most a month and a half in. Granted a good throwing arm wasn't necessary to be considered field worthy; they were training to be spies and rumourmongers not assassins, but one could never be sure.

The other six trainees were all being taught much more practical skills: acting, proper maid etiquette, poise and balance; anything that would increase their value to whichever house next hired them. That group was tucked away in the opposite corner by two other instructors.

The rest of the rather vast room went unused for now, but soon enough, they'd go into the more academic portion of the training.

None of them paid any attention to his entry either. It was a plus in Mott's book; a show of discipline.

And speaking of shows…

"Well, what do you think of my Dungeon, Siesta?" he asked the brunette smugly, looking at her gobsmacked expression from the corner of his eyes. "This is where that 'breaking and remaking' you've heard so much about happens."

She turned to look at him so fast, the comte was certain that she'd have had whiplash, "Nothing a simple potion won't fix."

"Wh… what… what is all this?" she stuttered out, her confusion apparently having overtaken her emotions entirely. Mott didn't blame her; that was among the usual reactions to his underground facility.

He walked ahead of her with a short laugh, turning around only when he was certain the distance was appropriate. "This-" Mott paused, spreading his arms slightly as if to showcase everything around them, "-this is where the real work in this mansion happens."

Not even waiting for her reaction, the mage spun back around, hands clasping behind him. The clack of wood on stone sounded from behind him; Felicity's work, impeccable timing as always. The reaction was immediate.

The knife throwers stowed away their weapons as swiftly and naturally as possible. Again, only Fleur managed to do it in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion, but at least it didn't look like any of them cut themselves by accident. Anna's and Juliette's race skid to a halt, with the latter managing a very impressive finish; kicking off the wall she was climbing and rolling twice in the air, twice more on the ground and ending in a perfect three point landing.

"Visually impressive and physically practical. Commendable."

The rest acted much more naturally for those who'd have their surface professions, standing and/or turning to face the main entrance with as much elegance as they could manage. Nearly all at once –and he was rather proud to note how minor the differences in timing were– they curtsied and spoke, "Good evening, Lord Mott."

Not all of them spoke like they truly meant it. Most of them sounded unsure and nervous and two or three were somewhat annoyed. Still, not a one was hostile. He was fine with that. He didn't need them to like him, even if some of the maids occasionally came to reach that point; he just needed their loyalty.

Mott smiled back at all of them. "Good evening girls. Well…morning really, but that's not important."

Chuckling at his lacklustre attempt at humour, the comte strode forward, down the short five steps to floor of his Dungeon. "I take it you're all wondering about my actions this night?" He asked rhetorically, taking note of each of his employee's reactions. "The reason why I'm here right now is simple, though I can't say much about it."

Pausing he looked over his shoulders at Siesta, gesturing for her to come to the front. The black haired maid stiffened for a moment, visibly gulping before finally getting the nerve to comply. The nobleman stepped aside as soon as she was close enough for all to see.

"I'm sure all of you are aware of your new colleague, Ms. Erdrick," Mott began, gesturing to the young woman closest to him. "Now, normally, she wouldn't have been allowed here, given that she only began today. Special circumstances, however, have forced my hand into action.

"Like the rest of you, Ms. Erdrick entered my employ believing false information. Unlike the rest of you, I need that misconception broken tonight, and so I brought her here."

He didn't need to elaborate for most of them to understand what he meant. That Juliette had very deliberately focused a questioning look at him when he met her eyes was a happy surprise; only their instructors had done so otherwise. "That young lady really does have a lot of promise. Good, she'll need it if she's to make it out there at her age."

"Understood," they chorused imperfectly at some unspoken signal, curtsying once more before returning back what they'd been doing before; the few who were still confused about what they were supposed to do being subtly ushered by those who knew their orders. They were all much more concentrated on their tasks now, no doubt realizing or being told by those who had that they needed to show their best.

Satisfied with what he saw, Mott finally returned his attention towards his newest employee. He waited, watching her stare at the sight before her, her mouth agape in bewilderment. It was a sight he'd grown quite used to. Every new recruit he'd vetted and approved of were told of this facility's purpose, yet even they were astounded by it. Siesta, who didn't even know what was going on, was understandably speechless.

The view and atmosphere helped in that regard, no doubt. Though it was the same sight, the lighting was such that the view from the stairs where one could first see most of the Dungeon and that from the bottom of the steps were just different enough to matter. It made the view from where he stood just that much more awe inspiring than above.

Fighting back his laughter, the Comte cleared his throat to get her attention. Siesta almost jumped at the sound, and this time, Mott actually let himself snicker at her reaction.

He reined his mirth in with a sigh and asked, "Do you want to hear a story, Siesta?"

The maid didn't answer, seeming to think that it was another rhetorical question. Well, he would've continued all the same, but would have been nice if she'd expressed some desire to hear him out.

"I'm sure you've heard at least some of this before," he commented first, walking away and silently ordering the young woman to follow. "Around thirty-five years ago, during His Majesty, King Philip III's reign, Tristain suffered many an attack both within and without its borders," he began, much in the same way a storyteller would, "Germania was testing the waters for war once more and a spate of treasonous nobles only worsened the times."

Even as he spoke, Mott weaved a simple spell and, with the nonchalance of having done it over a hundred times before, struck at a ewer nestled beside the wall. Immediately, the water within sprung up, swirling in the air before forming tiny crystal chess pieces: a king, a bishop, two knights and eight pawns; the latter of a decidedly darker colour than the rest. Not its intended purpose, but good for improvisation without doubt.

"It started quietly enough, with Germanians working under their ambassador causing minor scuffle with Tristanian knights and soldiers," So saying, the pawns in the air began bumping into the equine figurines.

"There weren't any signs of war at first… but that all changed with the betrayal of Duc Estashu and his Unicorn Knights." With that, the pawns cleared away and the bishop and one knight turned dark, beginning to harry the king and the remaining knight, "It was a power play that would have driven Tristain to ruin, had the duc succeeded in his coup."

He paused to take a breath, audibly smirking with triumph loud enough for Siesta to hear above the background noise. "Fortunately…" he trailed off just as soon as he started, spinning his staff with one hand until he held it closer to the base. With deliberate flair, the comte smashed the rod into the darkened figurines; their crystals lightening before coming together into a new piece: another knight, but this time with the head of a lion.

"In what was considered the most tumultuous time in Tristain's recent history, a hero arose: With wind magic said to be on par with royalty, Karin the Heavy Wind was a prodigious knight, unlike any other in Tristain's known history. He rose to prominence, many claiming with the exposure and subsequent capture of Duke Estashu as his first great feat."

The remaining fragments still left in the air quickly formed two more knights, joining with the remaining on and forming up on the Manticore. The pawns restarted their charge at the king, only to be shattered by the lighter pieces. They reformed, again and again, only to be met with the same fate.

"With the heirs of the Houses of Vallière, Gramont and Bracieux, Karin led both the hunt against Tristain's traitors and the charge against forces coming in from Germania; 'bandits' supposedly, but you'd need to be a fool to believe such a claim. In the seven years Karin was active, and the five he took charge of the Manticore knights, Tristain experienced victory after victory, even against the superior forces of Germania's only real attack, forcing them to cease the war they sought before it even began. And when the dust cleared and Tristain knew peace… Karin disappeared into the wind he mastered so greatly."

The first part of his tale now over, Mott took another steadying breath. With a flourish of his staff, the crystal statuettes returned to liquid and flew seamlessly back to its container. He had, admittedly, romanticized the tale far too much for his liking, but that was a necessity to keep Siesta both interested in the story, and keep her from worrying about where he was leading her.

Taking a brief moment to look around the room, Mott took quick note of how some of the newer recruits had taken to listening in on his short tale as well, "Subtlety, it seems, will need to be their next lesson," he thought exasperatedly, though he didn't show it in his demeanour. He had no time to address the issue now, but hopefully Felicity would've caught onto the same thing.

Feeling as though he'd stopped long enough, he turned to look at her over his shoulder, just enough to show a knowing smirk. "That, however… is only one side of the story; the one everyone knows."

Leaving it at that, Mott looked forward once more, his hand reaching out to open the door they had reached; thus far having hidden it from the maid with his larger frame. He didn't doubt that he was getting another round of questioning looks from those who knew the purpose of what lay beyond, and probably even from those who didn't, as they'd been forbidden from entering the same door. The comte paid them no mind, and they knew better than to question him when he was clearly in the middle of something important.

As expected, everything inside was already well prepared.

The click clack of his newest maid's shoes began followed him in after a short pause, slower in pace than before, no doubt having realized that he'd led her into a decidedly small and secluded room with only one exit. Still, she soldiered on out of what he could guess to be a mixture of curiosity and determination. Well, that and likely because the appearance of the room itself didn't exactly give the impression of sex dungeon.

The room was rather Spartan, an oddity had it been upstairs, but it fit well with the aesthetics of the underground training area. It was a moderately sized square room with enchanted lanterns at each corner to provide light but little heat, and a table in the middle with a chair on each side. On the table were two cups and two small teapots. They were simplistic in design, having no markings, and were entirely solid in colour; red and blue, a cup and a pot each.

Mott stood beside one chair and, after some waiting, watched as Siesta warily sat in the other. The only sound to follow after was that of the door closing, and with it he knew for a fact that Felicity was already standing in attention beside the entrance; an imposing setup which played well in his favour. He allowed the silence to continue until Siesta mustered up the nerve to look him in the eyes once more.

"As with every story," he began sombrely this time, a deep contrast to his previously cheery and exuberant tone, "there are actually millions of other stories occurring in the background; little things that, had you not known them, could change the appearance of what it is you did know."

So saying, he raised his staff until its handle was a head taller than him, bringing it down with a loud *clack* as ferrule struck stone, twisting it ever so slightly. The sound of clockwork soon followed and, ever so slowly, liquid began to accumulate in the spaces between the blocks of the roof, just behind where Siesta sat.

As the drops fell, the nobleman caught them in his spell, once more crystallizing the dark purple liquid right before the maid's very surprised eyes. He twisted the clockwork system closed only when she'd turned around. He willed the pieces into figures which looked vaguely like cloaked pawns bar two; these taking on the form of bishops, but with bat wings on the mitre.

It was perhaps a little more upfront than he would usually use, but he doubted that Siesta would understand the hint until much later, should she actually meet the only surviving founders of his organization. "And even if she does get some inkling from it, well… all the better in the long run."

"After Duc Estashu's plans were put to a halt, King Philip III, realizing that there may be more amongst his Court who would betray him, created an organization tasked with rooting out such people. Composed of all those who had proven themselves undyingly loyal to the Crown and followed the Obligations of Nobility, it had no official name, nor were there any records of it ever made. For all intents and purposes, it never existed, nor does it exist today."

With a subtle twirl of his staff, the pieces congregated to float atop the table. From each pot, a liquid of matching colour rose out, just enough to form a figure each. The purple pawns closed in on them, changing colour to match the one they were closer to, forming up as though to guard them… only for the bishops to smash them from above. The pawns then absorbed all the pieces left behind, leaving nothing left of the red and blue.

"It does exist, however; even to this day." With a flourish, he swiped his staff to the side, and all the pieces evaporated into a dark mist. "Their numbers hide in the shadows; those who work and learn…" he trailed off as he finally took his seat, laying his staff across his knees, "and those who hunt and kill…" with the most innocuous looking tap of his fingers, the shadowy mist formed into another crystalline figure as it seeped out from underneath the cups.

"I'll have to apologize to Daphne and Amethyst if they ever find out about this." A part of him noted, even as he ended his little show, being careful to get rid of all that dark liquid. It wouldn't end well if any of it was left somewhere.

Safety hazards aside, Comte Mott made sure to keep control of his expression; an impassive stare directed at the young woman across from him.

"I don't think I need to say much more about what this place is… do I?" he asked. Normally, this was the part where he would have wanted the one he was interviewing to say 'yes, he did need to say more', but given the circumstances…

Slowly and unsurely, Siesta shook her head in the negative.

"She really won't be much use apart from this; at least not unless I pull her out again later. But that would be even worse than a convenient new prospective employee right in the middle of the year, and Osmond is far from the fool he makes himself out to be."

"And do you know why I brought you here?"

Again, she wordlessly answered with a 'no'.

He let the silence hang on again, waiting until he saw that look on Siesta's face; the need to break the silence. It didn't take long for him to see that she had just about to psyche herself up to ask something.

"The Vicomte de la Valois has been giving your village quite the hard time for the past two years," he cut her off with all the nonchalance of a man talking about the weather. A simple statement, really, but one that was close to home for the young woman and had easily grabbed her attention.

"Well, I guess her family either does not bother to hide such things from her, or aren't very good at doing so. Regardless, it seems this one is lining up nicely for me. That's never a good thing."

"As far as abuses of power go, he's not a priority target. The man takes around fifteen percent more in taxes and goods than he should, but he's also recognized for not being afraid to fight for his land and Tristain and otherwise follows the laws dutifully," he recited matter-off-factly, as if reading it all from a file, "there's not enough proof to outright strip him of his title, but there is enough on him to put him under scrutiny. That should be more than enough to make him stop. That should lighten the load on your family quite a bit, especially with seven mouths to feed; more than half not even old enough to work yet."

Siesta's full attention was on him now, and he could practically see the gears in her head turning. He gave her the time to think, and this time, Mott didn't stop her from speaking.

"What do you want?" she demanded; quietly, but with greater intensity than he'd managed to get from her before.

"It makes sense, I suppose," The comte concluded, "She might be growing quite fond of Alexander, but she's loved her family her whole life. If the mention of the prince can get such a strong reaction from her, this is probably the only one that would get something greater."

"Straight to the point I see," he commented amusedly, "Good… but I'm afraid you're asking the wrong question."

The frown Siesta had developed didn't leave her face, but the slight twitch of her brow conveyed her confusion quite well. In response, Mott gestured over to the other maid in the room.

Felicity was by the table in a second's time and began to pour the content of each teapot into its matching cup.

"This isn't about what I want; at least not entirely" he clarified, "it's about what you want."

Truly, Mott loved the art of saying the dishonest truth far more than he should. Sure it made him good at his job, but there were times when people actually did think he was lying, even though he technically wasn't. In situations like these, it usually led to a very volatile reaction.

"Granted, it isn't as though I do this without expecting and accounting for just that. I've already gotten her this far. Now for the final step…"

He raised his hands up placatingly, the first sign of clear surrender he'd shown, waiting out her reaction.

"Before you say anything else, allow me to explain," he requested calmly, still keeping his palms towards her and quite far from his staff.

After some time, Siesta sank back into her chair, her scowl slightly shallower than before.

"Let me first make it clear that my only reason for taking the responsibilities I have now is because I want to make Tristain and its people safe. That means rooting out corruption amongst the nobility, among other things. However, such a thing is not so easily accomplished.

"We move in the shadows both because we are only as effective as we are if no one knows we are there, and because learning about us will not bode well for the Crown. Thus far, we've managed to maintain that status. Rumours about us exist, but most are contradictory and, more importantly, began from us to begin with.

"Because of this, we have to move carefully. 'Discovering' enough of the Vicomte de la Valois's duplicity to put him under scrutiny will either take a few months of organizing… or tip our hand and make it necessary to lessen activity for some time, which can make it very difficult for us if a higher priority target begins to make their move.

"It can be done, but in the long run, it would be a net loss for Tristain. As much as I want to keep the Vicomte on track, I simply cannot allow the consequences of the needed actions to fall through."

"And what does that have to do with what I want?" Siesta shot back as soon as Mott gave pause.

"As if I could have a better opening."

"You want to return to working at Tristain Magic Academy, where your friend is," the comte answered factually, "you want help your family with their little financial problem, and I can already tell that you want to do to other nobles what you were thinking of doing to me earlier."

That finally made Siesta back off, if only a little, but it was more than enough for Mott to work with.

"There are already plans to in place to put an end to Victor de la Valois' thievery… or should he escalate in the coming months, strip him of his title entirely. No matter what happens now, that will not change," he explained, "There is no 'if', only 'when', but 'when' can change."

So saying, the Comte de la Mott rested his back on his chair and took his staff in hand. He waved the wooden foci over the cups on the table, bringing the young woman's attention to them as they glowed dimly; noticeable only due to the low level of light in the room.

"I can agree to bring Vicomte de la Valois to heel in less than a week, but only if the result of doing so is a net positive for Tristain and that requires something from you."

Siesta's knuckles grew white as her grip tightened on her chairs armrest, but she didn't speak, seemingly waiting for him to make his point.

"Surprising, but not really much of a setback… if at all."

"For that to happen, you… need to go back to working at Tristain Magic Academy."

The nobleman could just about imagine the sound of one of those engines that those people in The Academy liked so much exploding to a halt. It certainly made for an apt analogy for Siesta's expression. One second it was a huge scowl, the next instant, she was practically slack jawed.

"Huh?!" was all she could get out of her mouth in her immense disbelief.

The Comte de la Mott actually had to put some effort into hiding his amusement at that. "I do believe I managed to nail the delivery on that."

-X-

Chapter XII Side B: The Summons

Alma Elma wasn't in a good mood as she scoured the vast royal library of Grand Noah. She hadn't been in a good mood for some time now, which, to anyone who knew her (or even just knew ofher), was extremely unusual. She was the Heavenly Knight of the Wind; the fickle and hedonistic Queen of the Succubae, someone who only did as she pleased and was pleased with all that she did. For the most part, that was all true, but it didn't mean she had no sense of responsibility; just one she didn't bother with very often.

What happened to Alexander was one of the few times it got to her.

The little prince had seen her during one of the times she was practicing her martial arts and practically begged her to teach him. That was when he was just four.

She'd agreed after a time, with permission –and a not so small number of warnings– from Alice, of course. At first, Alma thought that it had been the product of some childish crush on her (because really, what child wouldn't have a crush on her at one point), and perhaps she'd been right for a time; but if she was, Alexander had very quickly grown out of it.

As much as Luka's only son tried to distance himself from the mantle of prince, he had the same drive to be strong that was present in all Monster royalty. Alexander absorbed her lessons like a sponge, practicing everything she taught him with the same a zeal that reminded her of Granberia after the Heavenly Knights were first formed. He wasn't a natural genius by any means, at least not in martial arts as his father had been with a sword, but with all the effort he put into it from such a young age, he'd managed to make it so that he could move his body any way he wanted as long as it was possible.

Alma Elma had been all for it once they'd gotten into the swing of things. She taught him everything she knew, from her own original style she developed, to the original art of boxing which arose in Grandgold, to the wrestling which originally dominated the Grand Noah arena; the innumerable differing styles which existed in the western and eastern Yamatai and even the methodical savagery utilized by some of the instinctual Monsters.

For nearly ten years she'd taught him everything she'd seen and practiced during her younger days and all the ways she'd refined them since. Yet in all that time, she could count the number of days he didn't at least put in at least an hour or two of training on one hand. Four times, to be exact, and each of those four had been the days when his half sisters were all born; days when he'd been too excited to think about training.

Even when he and his twin sister decided to go around the world and see it for themselves those two years, he never quite stopped, at least not according to Little Alice. She'd checked in on him every once and a while just to see how he was doing; he'd managed to improve enough for it to be noticeable every time.

By that point, training the little prince had become one of the high points of her life and she hadn't even noticed until their near daily spars ended. Oh Alma Elma took pleasure in many things, including teaching others in the more… traditionally Monstrous form of combat, but passing on one of the other things she loved to someone else held a sense of fulfilment all its own.

And then he'd gone and gotten himself kidnapped right after another session with her.

Suffice it to say, the Monster Lord had not been pleased, and for once, Alma Elma didn't feel any desire to try and lighten the mood. She'd been a little angry at herself too. She'd felt the odd winds right before Little Alice said Alexander had disappeared but taught little of it. Alma Elma had already managed to go far enough to barely feel it and had simply thought that the little prince was experimenting with his wind magic again; it wouldn't have been the first time he decided to do some extra practice or experimenting after she was finished with him.

Now that she knew the truth though… the Succubus Queen dearly wished she'd gone back to see what had happened. Even if she couldn't have stopped him from being pulled to some other world, maybe she could've at least been sent there with him. It might have even been fun, experiencing a new world… right after dealing with whoever tried to take him of course.

"Lady Alma Elma."

The sound of her name ripped the Succubus from her brooding. With an audible clap, she closed the book she'd been half heartedly reading (another remnant of Stolas' time here which had quickly proven irrelevant) and looked over her shoulder. It was a Dulahan who'd called to her, the same one Luka fought all those years ago in the Queen's Cup, if she remembered correctly; member and captain of Grand Noah's royal guard. The hesitant frown on her detached head wasn't a welcome sight.

"Still nothing?" Alma Elma asked, even if she could already guess the answer.

The Dulahan's shoulders shook side to side before she said, "I'm afraid not ma'am."

"And how much more is there left to cover?" the Succubus Queen followed up before the headless knight could get another word in.

The guard captain hesitated for a moment; she sighed before replying. "A little less than three fourths of the library. Suffice it to say, we aren't having a very easy time."

And wasn't that an understatement. The disappearance of Alexander Fateburn wasn't exactly something they wanted to broadcast throughout the world. The monarchs of Sabasa, Grand Noah and Grandgold were all aware of the situation, as was the Pope in San Ilia and a few other select individuals, but they were trusted enough not to let anything leak. From there, only those who the rulers knew to be most loyal to them were told of what had happened.

It was a good measure to keep information out of the hands of the various insurgent elements in the world and had been fairly effective in that each kingdom managed to send at least two trusted and experienced magic users and researchers to Hellgondo in short order; not to mention those sent by some of the other more trusted Monster Queens.

Unfortunately, it also had the drawback of limiting the number of people who could help the search for relevant information. The Kitsune clan was probably the biggest help; tricksters though they were, Kitsune were loyal to each other and to Tamamo to the core and many of them could be trusted with the secret. People in the other kingdoms or other groups of monsters, not so much. It was unfortunate, but there were far too many people who could end up talking and letting out the secret.

Not to say that there were many traitors in the ranks of every kingdom; just the opposite, in truth. The real problem was that not every average soldier, guard or scholar could be trusted not to talk about their days to other people in places where privacy could be ensured. And even if they wouldn't have been eavesdropped on in a bar or what have you, those same people they talked to would talk to more people until eventually, the secret wasn't so secret anymore.

This, of course, left Alma with only a small contingent of little more than three dozen people to help her search a two story tall, eight hundred square meter library book by book. Worst still was that few of those people were really familiar with more esoteric magic, a majority of them being guards whose magical knowledge could be summarized as 'how to attack and defend with a fireball' or something else as equally simple. Not that Alma Elma was all that much better.

"Umm… Lady Alma Elma, if I may, this isn't really what I came here to say."

Succubus Queen looked down at the headless knight's head again, silently ordering her to continue.

"We just received a message from Hellgondo milady. The Monster Lord sent a summons for you; that you should leave for Castle Gehenna as soon as possible."

A purple eyebrow quickly rose as the Dulahan finished her report.

"Alice has to know what I'm doing right now. If she's calling me, then she's probably gathering the others as well. … Did something new come up?"

Though she continued to think deeply on what this all meant, externally, the Succubus Queen was already moving. "Where's my daughter?" she asked the Dulahan, who had quickly gotten into step with her.

"Last anyone saw her; Miss Eleonora was in the second floor, east wing."

"I see, thank you," she nodded in appreciation, spreading her wings without breaking her stride. It was only after Alma Elma had taken to the air that she paused, looking over her shoulder at the shorter Monster, "you'll continue the search, won't you?"

The Dulahan smiled back ever so slightly. "We were ordered to look for anything that may have to do with inter-dimensional travel until such a time as we are told it is unnecessary," she replied matter-of-factly, "we'll continue looking until then."

Alma didn't say anything in return, only giving a smile and nod of understanding before she practically disappeared from sight, a slightly strong breeze going up to the next floor being the only sign of her passage.

-X-

In a somewhat secluded section of the library, a young woman of fifteen years was pouring over a book.

The teen was someone who many would easily call beautiful. Her lithe form was garbed in a form fitting but simple blue bodice that matched her short skirt and thigh high boots. Her face was framed by bangs which reached down to her chin, and behind her, rich violet hair fell to just below her shoulders with a slight wave.

Were it to stop there, she could easily have been mistaken for a normal girl. Her pointed ears, the horns that curled from behind them, two pairs of bat like wings and a long tail that ended in a flower bud like tip –all but the first, a stark white colour– made it obvious that she was anything but. This young lady was, in fact, a Succubus; a Natural Born Succubus at that, rare as they were.

Her name was Eleonora Leitstern, daughter of the Heavenly Knight of the Wind, Alma Elma, and the Hero, Luka.

"Tried that one before," she thought to herself, flipping the page of the book she was perusing, idly swinging her legs on the table as she leaned back in her chair, "Hmm… nope, this one has waaay too many rare ingredients." Another page turned, "Huh… this looks promising… aaand it can accidentally kill whoever drinks it. Nope." And another, "Let's see… ooh… hundred percent success rate, does not develop abnormal obsessive tendencies, zero fatality rate, and the main ingredient is the blood of a virgin su-"

And just like that, the book was angrily kicked towards the nearest wall. Impressive, given her awkward position and the fact that said wall was well over fifty meters away.

Back in her chair, Eleonora's eye twitched as she stared at where the (to her) extremely offending material had fallen to the floor, none the worse for wear. She huffed as she got up from her chair and began to look for another book on the same topic. This time, one that hopefully wouldn't make her angry.

As if it wasn't obvious enough, unlike everyone else who was in the building, Eleonora wasn't doing something nearly as urgent. Whereas her mother and the Grand Noah's guards and scholars scoured for any information on opening a path to other dimensions, the white winged Succubus was looking into the subject of-

"Emotional Apothecary by… huh… King Solomon himself…" Eleonora wondered out loud as she pulled the ancient looking tome out of its place, "really old… but it should have something on love potions."

Blowing lightly on the cover to get rid of the remaining dust, she opened the book as gently as she could so as to not damage it, staring intently at the table of contents as she mentally deciphered each line to look for the very subject she was so interested in.

Had this not been the case, Eleonora very likely would've noticed the shifting, whispering wind that heralded her mother's arrival to her little alcove. If she'd taken the time to get to her seat before continuing on, Eleonora probably wouldn't have bumped into her as the younger succubus was turning around.

"Oomph!" The younger succubus cried out, suddenly finding her face in between a very familiar valley.

"Uh…. I can explain?" she said weakly, not even bothering to move away. The book was out of her hands before Eleonora could even notice.

Alma Elma took the time to look over the book as she stepped back before frowning exasperatedly at her daughter.

"Really Elli? Now of all times?" the older succubus asked as she slid the book back in its place, "I'm the last person that should be saying this but there's a time and place to play around, and this isn't it."

Eleonora groaned, bemoaning the loss of her reading material. "Oh come on mom, there are already three dozen other people looking for the same stuff in this place, what difference am I gonna make?"

"A lot more than you might think," Alma Elma answered, not even missing a beat. She sighed, shaking her head and wondering to herself how she'd raised a daughter even more flighty than she was. "You're brother-"

"Half brother."

"-is stuck in some other world," the older succubus continued, ignoring her daughter's interruption, "and you're here looking up how to make love potions. Again! Why are you even looking into this; you're a Succubus!"

The white succubus crossed her arms petulantly. "You know why," she said, looking away. "What I don't understand is why everyone's panicking so much. All of you are acting like big brother was kidnapped to be enslaved or tortured or ransomed or… something. Have you thought that maybe he's doing pretty well wherever he is?"

"We can't just risk that," Alma countered factually, "and really, you're faffing about again all because you're still after your brother-"

"Half brother."

"Alex's first time? You wouldn't even be able to use any of this until we bring him back."

"And when we do, I'll be ready," was Eleonora's triumphant rebuttal.

The Succubus Queen groaned internally, "It's not like I don't understand you Elli, but this is just too much. For we know, Alexander's might've… hmm… now there's an idea."

A devious smirk formed on Alma Elma's lips. The action didn't go unnoticed by Eleonora, who began to get a worried and confused glint in her eyes.

"So you're not worried at all about getting Alexander back here as fast as possible?" Alma Elma asked, her head tilted to the side and with a purposely innocent look on her face.

Her daughter humphed in answer, "of course not!" she confirmed.

"Even if it means somebody might've beaten you to him?"

That got her eyes to widen, the younger succubus' body freezing up as her mind ran through the implications.

"That… that's not possible!" she protested, "Alex wouldn't just let himself get kissed by some random girl, let alone have sex with them! Not without a fight!"

"One which he would have been very tired for, if whoever summoned him went for it immediately," Alma Elma reminded, "For all we know, he might've been abducted by some girl who just wanted a good looking husband and decided he was the best for it."

As far as motivation went, it was complete garbage. Maybe if the portal wasn't cross-dimensional in nature, it would've been plausible, but who'd go to the trouble of doing that much just to summon a guy for them to marry? Even in the dark age of Monsters, that would have been a stupid and possibly fruitless plan.

It had the intended effect though.

"Wagh!" Eleonora shrieked as she pulled back to the ground by her tail, her inhuman reflexes being the only thing that kept her from landing on her ass.

"You're not going anywhere young lady," Alma Elma scolded playfully.

"What!? But weren't you just-!"

"Alice just had someone summon me back to Castle Gehenna," her mother interrupted, "I'm sure that Tamamo's already told her about what I've been doing the past week, so if she's calling for me now, they must have found something. The royal guards here will still keep up the search, but we're heading to Hellgondo."

"Well why can't I just stay to help here?" argued Eleonora, "you said earlier that I can still help, and if you're leaving, then at least I can take your place."

Alma Elma rolled her eyes in response. "Two reasons," she started, "first, with how hasty you are now, you'll probably end up making the job here harder than it should be," the older succubus teased, eliciting a pout from her daughter, "and second, if I know Tamamo and Alice well enough –and I do– they'll probably have some news as well; good ones, hopefully, and I think you'll want to hear them."

With that, the mother among the two reached out a hand to her daughter as she gathered her power and focused on Castle Gehenna, her magic pooling and ready to perform a familiar spell. Though she was still glowering a little, Eleonora took her mother's hand, and soon the two were out of site.

-X-

As far as advances went, few places could equal Grangold in how much it had changed after the Heaven's Fall war.

With the Queen Ant Ayra now also bearing the title of Queen of Grangold, it had at first been a great surprise for many that the kingdom would be so accepting of the magitechnology that remained after Ilias's defeat, given her history. Nonetheless, northernmost kingdom of Sentora, having both prior experience and remaining documents concerning some of Promestein's earlier works, had become quite adept in reverse engineering what was left behind.

In terms of technological advancement, only Yamatai could boast to be better, and even then, Grandgold's technology was better spread throughout both the region, and the world.

To their great fortune, this didn't return the citizenry to their once slothful lifestyles, but rather, steered their efforts to a more scholarly pursuit. At the very centre of this Magitek Revolution, as it was called, was Grangold Royal Magic Academy; a school that allowed students to study in both the traditional and technological aspects and application of magic, the birthplace of many of the Gaea's most widespread devices.

"Now if only they could invent something that makes it easier to look for information."

The source of the rather annoyed thought was an unusual sight, as far as the academy's archive was concerned. It –or rather, she– was a Dragonkin with light green scales and red hair. Very few people who'd see her wouldn't know who she was nowadays: The Heavenly Knight of Fire, Granberia.

Known by many as the greatest swords master in the world, Granberia had changed quite a bit herself in the last twenty years. She was both a wife and mother now for one; two things she didn't think would've happened so early in her life. It helped that Alice couldn't exactly afford to not let Luka practice polygamy; the swordswoman was certain she wouldn't have found a suitable man for quite a long time otherwise.

Those two things had probably been the biggest catalyst to everything else different about her.

Granberia still yearned to improve her skill with the blade and find new challenges, but with the world as it was now, there were very few who she knew of that could get her blood boiling. Instead, she found new enjoyment in training others, be they human or monster, into becoming better warriors. It was strangely cathartic for her to see so many growing under her tutelage, and indeed, many aspiring warriors of the world actively sought her out, much like they once done with Salamander.

A frown spread across her face at the thought of the elemental spirit and the one she was with, the dragonkin's scaled hand absently coming up to the amber gem of her armour. It, along with her now longer hair, kept in a ponytail, was the only things that changed appearance wise. It was much like her old armour –no surprise as they were made by the same crafter– but crimson and gold instead of the old brown and bronze; Salamander's idea of a wedding gift and about the only reason Granberia really cared for it.

She grit her teeth at the thought.

"I don't need that kind thinking now," she admonished herself, "more than enough of us are still letting our emotions get the better of us. Adding me to the list isn't going to help anyone."

It was an easy observation for her to make, really. Alice, being the doting and –very often– overprotective mother that she was had made quite a few rash calls the past week. It was only because she was rational enough to listen to Tamamo about a lot of things that probably kept any further disasters from happening.

The younger Alice was only slightly better and could often be seen pacing somewhere in Castle Gehenna most of the time.

Alma Elma was uncharacteristically driven to help fix the issue. Granberia didn't know if it was because he disappeared so soon after she left him alone, because he was her first student in martial arts, a sense of familial obligation or something else. Regardless, Alma Elma had been more serious recently than the swordswoman had ever seen her before.

Despite how odd the Succubus Queen was acting, she was still rather helpful, even if the change was a little disconcerting.

Luka did much better, but even he was decidedly acting different. He had an intensity to his actions that Granberia hadn't seen since he'd been on his first journey, all those years ago. Of course, even he'd mostly kept calm, that the current problem couldn't be solved with a sword made him just a bit easier to irritate.

"Or at least it can't be yet." The Dragonkin wondered, not for the first time since this whole escapade had happened.

Even now, Alice was just barely holding back from commanding Hellgondo's army to prepare for war. They'd been able to keep Alexander's disappearance from becoming public knowledge well enough, but it was clear to anyone who looked that there were those who could already smell blood in the water.

The rumours flying around everywhere had no coherence with each other, thankfully, so very few people had any solid opinions about the truth, but something like this just couldn't be kept up; not for long. They would have maybe two months –maybe three if Alice could calm down– before one that insurgents could rally behind would become prevalent enough to urge them to act. And that assumption was a very generous one. A rumour like that didn't even have to be close to the truth for anything to happen.

If it weren't for her, Tamamo and Erubetie remaining so normal in how they act, the situation would definitely worsen. That all of Alexander's sisters, bar Alice, were also not panicking helped quite a bit too, to be sure.

That shouldn't have been much of a surprise though. Her own daughter, Agrias –the closest to Alexander and Alice in age– was certainly driven to find an answer, but saw no real reason to worry; 'Alexander was strong enough to keep himself safe' was her simplistic argument. Quick to anger though she was, her daughter had a good head on her shoulders as long as it was kept cool.

Eleonora similarly believed quite a lot in Alexander's capabilities, and was every bit as fickle as her mother; Granberia sometimes shuddered to think that perhaps she was even more so. Though the White Succubus might have ulterior motives concerning her half-brother, she was quite firm in her belief that there was no need to hurry, and that he'd be fine even if they didn't hurry their search so much.

Rao was, as always, the most level headed of the lot. She admittedly didn't know whether the three tailed Kitsune was just hiding her distress or really was that calm, but the little kit's response had been to simply help her mother and father as much as she could.

As for Muria… Granberia honestly didn't know what to think. The little Slime was barely eight years old, but even that shouldn't have been possible, seeing as Slimes 'reproduced' by mitosis and just create clones with all the knowledge of the mother but few of the memories. Still, whether it was because of Luka's angelic heritage or Erubetie being so far removed from normal Slimes, they ended up producing Muria, who at this point was just too immature to really understand the situation.

"Pardon me; Lady Granberia."

The Dragonkin, brought out of her musings, looked over her shoulder to see one of the Ant Girls that Queen Ayra had assigned to help her. "What is it?" asked Granberia, turning completely to face her with a slight frown. It didn't look like this one had found anything.

"We've received a message from Castle Gehenna," the insectoid Monster Girl answered in that nigh monotonous tone that gave her away as a younger member of the Colony, "Her Majesty, Monster Lord Alice has ordered for your presence immediately."

A red brow rose on the swordswoman's face. "A summons?" she thought aloud, "You're sure about this?"

The Ant Girl nodded, "The message was short and very clear," she explained, "Additionally, Her Majesty has told to assure you that the search here will not slow down until such is ordered of us."

"I see," Granberia nodded back. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, the dragoness handed the book she'd been looking through to the Ant Girl; the other monster accepting it wordlessly.

"Have a few people look through this section," the Heavenly Knight ordered, gesturing towards the Ancient Rituals section, "With how old some of the other records of cross world travel are, there's a good chance there'll be something here about it."

She couldn't see how the Ant Girl responded to the order, but Granberia imagined that she probably would've given a short bow with her reply of 'Understood'. It was reassuring to know that she wouldn't need to check back here to see if they would continue their work.

Better yet, if she'd been called in, it meant that something big had happened. Something good too, she hoped.

"I'll find out soon enough," Granberia thought to herself, picking up her sword and preparing to teleport to her destination.

-X-

"Do perhaps require medical assistance?"

Erubetie resisted the urge to sigh. "No," she said, "I do not. But thank you for the offer, Lady Kraken."

The larger Monster looked at the Slime Queen unsurely, reluctantly nodding her head, "If you're sure. Still, I feel compelled to tell you that-"

"Lady Kraken," she interrupted, reaching up to what she was sure the tentacle monster was looking at, "This is not a tumor. This is my daughter. You've met her before." Erubetie set the smaller Slime Girl down to illustrate, leaving only a thin trail connecting the two of them.

The smaller mass of living, darker blue slime waved a tendril like arm in greeting, "Hello!"

The lord of the southern sea blinked at the little monster, "Huh… so I have."

Erubetie sighed again, resisting the urge to smack her face.

It was understandable, really. Kraken was getting quite old, even by her species' standards. She'd already been somewhat out of it before Ilias' fall, and despite their impressive regeneration abilities compared to humans, monsters weren't exactly immune to senility.

She counted to three in her head, deciding to just get the topic of their conversation back on track. "I came here to ask permission to search for something in your archives," Erubetie said, matter-of-factly.

"Ah yes, I recall Poseidoness mentioning something to that extent," The ancient Scylla perked up, remembering something, "I believe you also went to Kêr-Is recently to ask the same from the Mermaid Queen. If I may, what exactly are you searching for?"

"It's not something I'm allowed to say," To Kraken, at least, Erubetie added mentally, "Her Highness was quite adamant in ensuring that as few people as possible is made aware of the situation." It was a shame she couldn't also ask for help, but as loyal as Kraken was, her failing memory could easily be a liability. A good thing, then that Erubetie could still divide herself into multiple bodies.

Kraken hummed thoughtfully, a small frown on her face, "That is… somewhat concerning," she said, "Still, I suppose there isn't much need to worry; Lady Alice had more than proven herself trustworthy. Although…"

Muria tuned the rest of the conversation out, the young monster's eyes locking onto a tiny white form on the ocean floor. Tilting her head curiously, the seven year old slime girl flowed towards the speck, straight through the temple's windows, her liquid 'feet' plopping down in front of the curiosity. Absentmindedly, she assured her mother of her safety, not even looking back at the underwater building as she kneeled down to inspect the odd creature.

Looking at it more closely, it wasn't white at all –more like a pale lilac– and looked a lot like those wood lice that Rao once showed her. These were bigger though; much bigger. At least half as tall as her, in fact.

It was also trying to get away for some reason, though Muria wasn't that surprised; a lot of unfamiliar animals didn't like getting near her, which made her a bit sad, but she was used to it. That didn't mean she liked letting them go.

Before the big insect could swim too far, she'd already managed to grab it and pull it back to her, examining the creature's underside with her bright red eyes. It was surprisingly cute, the way it was moving its arms in an effort to swim away. There also seemed to be some bits of a tiny tentacle near its foremost limb. Looking down to where it was before she sent it scurrying revealed the remains of a small octopus.

Muria looked back at the agitated bug, blinking owlishly, her head tilted to the side. It slowly calmed down in her presence (or just gave up on escaping) and looked back at her. A slight twinge in her senses sparked an involuntary twitch from the living slime, but she just ignored it. The little creature was far more interesting.

She didn't like how the world around her seemed to darken though.

Muria frowned, looked all around her at the strange cloud, then shrugged and walked away from it, still carrying the large insect. She came to a decision as she carried it back to the temple.

"I'm going to name you Fred."

And thus, she'd added another pet to her ever growing collection.

"I wonder what big sister Rao will say about this one. Maybe it'll help Alice too. She always likes helping me with my pets."

Such were the thoughts of the innocent young monster as she felt her mother beckon her back. Big Alice had called them back.

Why?

Well, she didn't care either way. She'd get to see her sisters sooner. Maybe her brother too, wherever he'd gone off to. She just had to get back to her mother first, which didn't take long. Muria was a young slime, but she had excellent control of the water around her. Jetting herself back through one of the temple's windows was a simple matter.

She did wonder about the giant dead fish though. Where had that come from?

-X-

A young girl looked up, her blonde fox ears twitching slightly. "Another day, another waste of time," she mentally sighed, her nose scrunching up a little. "It's not like we didn't already find a perfectly viable way to get Alex back." She searched up the shelves in front of her, eyes scanning for any title that might lead to what exactly she was looking for, though even with her enhanced sight, it was a difficult feat.

"Argh! I'm sick of this! Why do all these titles have to be so goddamn small?!"

Clearly, her companion felt the same hardship, if much much less patient about it.

The fox girl rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder, "You could search in the books section, you know," she deadpanned, not even reacting as the other girl –seemingly close to the same age with scaled arms, wings and a tail– literally growled fire behind her sharp teeth; "It's not like you can actually study these on your own."

The dragon girl huffed. "That place would be even worse. Do you have any idea how much some of the older inks smell like?" she groused, arms crossing as she glared at the blonde.

Speaking of scents, the kitsune had caught one of someone approaching. She suppressed the urge to smirk. "Considering my nose is better than yours, yes, I'd say I do; you never hear me complaining," She said instead without missing a beat, already back to checking the shelves, "You're just being a lazy lizard."

Her companion growled, "I am not! That's just because you're a damn bookworm, Rao!" she countered, clawed hands clenched at her sides.

"Hey, come on now Agrias, there's no need to be so harsh with your sister," a new voice cut in before Rao could reply, causing the dragon girl jump and whirl around in surprise, her face blushing. Rao glanced the same way, catching sight of the young man who spoke.

He was only a little older than the two of them, wearing a blue tunic and brown pants, his chest, shoulders, knees and forearms lightly armored; the uniform of the castle guards. Well, a trainee's anyway, but he wore it well. More importantly, he had a pair of disc cases in his hand.

"Si-Sigrid!" Agrias cried in surprise. Her face scrunched up in annoyance, although any astute observer would know it was directed more at Rao than the young man with them. "What on earth are you doing here? Your group can't possibly be done with your isle already."

"I'm not," Sigrid replied, an easy smile on his face, "but we did find these," he held up the cases, "Sensei thought they might be of interest to you." he continued, handing them to the draconic teenager, "Given how small these things are, he thought it'd be better if I just gave them to you now rather than leave it for later and misplace them by accident."

Agrias swiped them away –Rao hoped that hadn't damaged them– her face still flushed and pointedly not looking at Sigrid. "Ri…right. Well… we'll look into it later then. Just… go back and keep looking for more."

"Right away ma'am," he replied jokingly, complete with a mock salute. Rao was certain she wasn't the only one who enjoyed the pout that appeared on her half-sister's face.

They watched him until he was out there sight, and then waited some more to make sure he wouldn't hear anything either. Well, Agrias did. Rao just waited for Agrias' inevitable reaction. It really didn't take long.

"You knew, didn't you?" the dragon girl accused, her face now red with anger as much as embarrassment; her head was literally steaming.

Rao chuckled. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about dear sister," she said in such a sickeningly innocent voice that made it impossible to fool anyone. The smug grin she was sporting certainly didn't help.

"You know damn well what I mean, Rao!" Agrias shouted back, her horns beginning to whistle.

For most, an enraged dragon girl, even one as young as Agrias, would've had them stumbling for an apology. Rao, didn't even flinch.

"No~ I'm pretty sure I don't," the kitsune pressed on, "but if it's about Sigrid being so close when you blew your top-" she took a brief moment to savor the renewed blush on Agrias' face, "I'd say that's hardly my fault. You're the one who's always such a hothead."

By this point, puffs of flame had already began to join the steam bursting out of Agrias' lightly scaled ears, her clawed hands clenching at swords that weren't there.

Rao held back the urge to roll her eyes and smiled innocently at the sight, though her features made it look more like a smirk to most. "Finally, something to break the monotony," she thought idly, her digitigrade legs tensing ever so slightly, even as she weaved a protective spell that would keep the section of the library around them from catching fire.

Anyone who didn't know her might think she was just teasing, but Agrias knew better. Rao was good at hiding most of her tells, but her three tails were a dead giveaway, the way their wagging slowed and the ends became pointed. It was obvious to the dragon girl that she was being baited, and without her weapons of choice too.

"Not that being disadvantaged ever stopped Agrias," Rao thought, letting her already aggravating smile morph into a full, foxy grin. Fighting might not be something she took too much joy in, but it was certainly better than doing all this boring work. Still, she could practically feel her blood pumping as the proverbial calm before the storm waned towards its end as they both worked to put some distance between themselves; just enough to put as much kick into the first strike.

She cast the spell around them just in time, shielding the shelves on both sides of the two combatants from the blue fire that erupted from Agrias' reptilian arms. The dragon girl's wings flaring back as she cracked the ground beneath her feet, leaping with blazing claws.

Rao's own charge was more merciful to the masonry, but no less explosive, beyond the lack of flames; her vulpine legs uncoiling. Her right hand was cocked back, ready to deliver a devastating blow with all the weight of a half dozen war hammers.

The space they had so recently given each other came close to nothing in less than a second, chambered arms on both sides extended, each of the two hoping to land the first strike.

There was no sound of impact as the sisters both found resistance; no strike against scales or rending on hardened skin, not even the burning of hair. Neither had succeeded. Instead, Rao and Agrias found their wrists gripped tightly by a gloved hand each, not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to keep them from continuing.

A dizzying spin later for both off them and the sisters found themselves side by side, facing the interrogating frown of their father. Rao's tail and ears drooped at the sight, her smirk turning into a sheepish smile. The drop in temperature and lighting told her that Agrias had allowed her own signs of aggression to drop as well.

"She started it!"

Luca couldn't even get a word in before the dragon girl threw her younger sister under the stampeding behemoth.

The hero sighed tiredly, shaking his head in disappointment.

Even until she was on her deathbed, Rao would still refuse to admit that seeing it hurt her at all.

---

Well, that took way longer than I said it would. So far, not really keeping a good track record for meeting my self appointed deadlines.

Still, for those of you who were waiting for this, here it is, my latest chapter.

For those of you who have (on more than one occasion, figuratively very vocally) chosen to drop this story, well, I hope you all find something else you'll enjoy much more, although I somehow doubt any of you are reading this. I can honestly understand the chief reason for why a lot of readers disliked the last few chapters, and maybe even this one as well.

Many people are used to particular status quos, even among fanfiction (hell, especially in fanfiction) and I can't say I'm much different. Still, I've gotten to the point where I don't like hating on a character for something they did in canon, rather than what they do in the fanfic itself. I've said to those who've pointed out that Mott was never meant to be a nice person. He's no evil rapist who's evil for the sake of evuls, but he's far from a nice guy, as obvious here. If you'll hate him for that, instead of being a rapist, well I'd say I did my job right.

Anyway, seeing as I haven't seemed to have announced it yet, this story can also now be found in SpaceBattles and SufficientVelocity. Unlike here, small parts of the new chapters will be posted there when finished. That's also where I'm going to be testing the waters, so to say, so if you feel you think you might have some idea to add, feel free to check there if a new part comes out. Can't promise that I'll use any, but something might hit me while writing.

That said, I doubt every little mistake here's been noticed. If you do see any mistakes, I'd appreciate it if you'd point them out.

Until (hopefully not as far away) next time.