People came back to Eurulm for a wide variety of reasons.
Some came for power. Before the city's fall it had been the center of authority, influence, and culture in the region, and the Curia and the politicians alike flocked back to it for fear that their rivals would establish a new power base using its natural advantages if they stayed away. Likewise, merchants and traders moved swiftly to seize the opportunities presented by the freed city.
Some came for pride. The Ariarhod family, for example, had vowed that they would never abandon their traditional home, and given their daughter's role in supporting the "Hero of Eurulm" in ridding the fallen capital of fiendish control, it was only natural that they would return and reoccupy their old estates, no matter the trouble and expense it would take to rebuild their home.
Some came for hope. It wasn't only those displaced by the original flight from the fiends that flocked to Eurulm. There was work to be done in the reclamation, still more opportunity to be found in the needs of the new settlement. A fresh start, a fresh life, meant everything to some people, and with unflagging spirit they seized the chance with both hands.
And some came from simple curiosity.
After all, the power to freeze time was not the power to undo past events. The Eurulm region remained locked in Eternal Night, the Azure Moon shining brightly for those who could see it. There was a novelty to it, a city where the sun never rose, where the "nightlife" went on for twenty-four hours each day.
Charles and Margaret Adcock were among that last group. They were tourists from England, there to catch the leading wave of excitement, a bit of the truly unusual. As Margaret's sister-in-law had said, "Ruswal Island is so last season. Simply everybody is talking about Eurulm this year." And off they went, making their reservations at the famous Hotel Eterna.
"Oh, my," Margaret sighed in surprised appreciation when they walked inside. They hadn't known exactly what to expect—after all, when fiends overrun a city and spent the better part of five years making it their own, how much could one really expect so soon? But the Hotel Eterna was in the finest style of Continental luxury, lamplight glowing from polished brass and parquet, highlighting marble fittings, exquisite woodwork, and green plants.
"Not bad, not bad," her husband agreed. "It's not a patch on the Savoy, of course, but still very fine indeed."
The right-hand side of the lobby appeared to be given over to a café, where several people were seated at the bar and sipping from steaming china cups, so the Adcocks went left, to the elaborate front desk.
"Welcome to the Hotel Eterna. May I be of service?"
Some hotel receptionists are polite, efficient gentlemen in dark suits and white gloves. Others are equally efficient and personable ladies. But this was the first time the Adcocks had encountered a hotel receptionist who was a doll.
Literally.
She was a kimono-clad Japanese doll, about two feet tall. One would have thought this might present a problem for her to see over the reception desk, but she got around that difficulty by floating in midair, because why limit oneself to breaking just one law of natural reality?
Charles Adcock did the classic British "stiff upper lip" tradition proud by not boggling at her in surprise.
"Y-yes," he said. "We have a reservation. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Adcock."
"Of course. A suite for two, one week. We have Suite Seven reserved for you, although if you have any objection to that number we would be happy to accommodate you."
It was uncanny, the way her articulated mouth didn't quite match up with the words; since her lips were fixed it made things seem just out of balance.
Well, more uncanny, since, well, she was a talking doll.
Margaret was all but bursting with curiosity to ask the doll who—and more significantly, what—she was, but she swallowed her eagerness.
"That will be fine, miss."
"I presume that your maid and valet will be along with your luggage? We'll have that brought up for you at once. The shikigami will show you to your room. Please take full advantage of all of our facilities during your stay, and if you have any questions do not hesitate to ask one of the staff." She bowed, the gesture elegant despite the way in which she drifted slightly in the air as if floating on hidden currents.
"The…shikigami?" Charles asked, wondering if that was Japanese for bellhop. He was quickly proven wrong.
"Right this way, sir, ma'am!"
The Adcocks turned at the sound of the high-pitched voice, only to discover that it was coming from what looked like a child's paper doll, plain white in color with some kind of symbols or characters scrawled down its front in a garish, almost ominous red.
The fact that it, too, was floating at about chest level was almost an afterthought on the surprise scale that that point.
Fortunately for the guests, any embarrassing shock they might have displayed was cut off by a deep, muffled boom from somewhere beyond the wall behind the desk. Apparently this was not part of the usual state of the hotel, because both the living doll and the shikigami spun around as well. Around ten seconds later, a door to the right of the desk was flung open, and a woman with long green hair staggered out, surrounded by billows of smoke. She slammed the door shut, cutting off the flow of inky black clouds, and coughed twice.
"Dr. Camilla, are you all right?" the desk clerk exclaimed.
The woman plucked the pince-nez monocle off the bridge of her nose and wiped it vigorously with a handkerchief.
"Yes; the containment and fire-suppression devices worked, but that one workbench and an entire shelf of chemicals were totaled. It's going to take hours to get everything cleaned up and put to rights."
The shikigami openly sagged at this announcement.
"I'm going to go take a bath," the woman continued. "Kaede, once you've seen to any guests, call up Gianni Alchemical and Chemical Supply and let them know I'm going to be over in two hours for a discussion on the purity of their reagents."
"Yes, Doctor. Do you think they were cheating you or just careless?"
The woman set her monocle back into place.
"That will be one of the key points of discussion." She spun on her heel and stormed towards the gilt-fronted elevator at the rear of the lobby.
The Adcocks glanced at one another. The doll receptionist had called the woman "Dr. Camilla." Given the Curia's habit of affixing titles to people's personal names instead of their surnames, the woman might have been Dr. Camilla Alucard, the Hero of Eurulm herself! She was definitely not as they had imagined her. If they'd had any expectation at all, it was of a holy knight like the First Saint, elegant and resolute, with a purity of soul and a shining sword.
Charles supposed that shining swords and pure spirits weren't all that useful towards successful hotel management, but even so, it was still a little lowering.
"Right this way, sir, ma'am," the shikigami invited. They followed as it bobbed along through the air, taking them to the elevator in Dr. Camilla's wake, but rather than waiting for the lift it instead went to the right, up another short flight of stairs to a door off the side of the lobby. This led to a long hallway of doors, room numbers marked with gilt lettering.
"You'll find a complete list of all the amenities we offer to our guests on the writing-desk in your suite," it chirped happily, unaware or uncaring of the curious looks directed at it from behind, "but like Kaede said, if you have any requests at all, don't hesitate to ask any of the staff for assistance. The front desk is manned day and night, and you can ring at any hour."
"Are all of the staff like…like you?"
"Most of us are," it said. "We shikigami don't sleep, so we can devote our attention to the guests' needs. And if I'm helping you, then I can get out of pool maintenance duty!" It gave a little shudder. "Water is our mortal enemy, after all. Oh! But you won't tell Miss Kaede that I said that, will you?"
"So there are no humans at all running this hotel, just you…creatures?" Margaret asked, deciding that its question had been rhetorical.
"Dr. Camilla is human, of course. And Miss Eleanor, the chocolatier. We're the exclusive purveyor of her creations, available at the lobby bar."
"I see."
"And here is your suite, number seven. Please enjoy your stay!"
The shikigami opened the door for them and floated aside. The suite was every bit as elaborate and well-outfitted as the lobby: from the polished wood to the thick, ornate carpeting, to the brass fittings, it was like being bathed in warm amber light, an even more pleasant and relaxing sensation given the constant nightscape outside the huge bow window. Surprisingly, there was even a large potted plant to lend a refreshing touch of green. Charles didn't quite know how that worked without sunlight, but supposed that Dr. Camilla had some scientific trick to explain it.
A low, rumbling noise seemed to come from the direction of the bedroom, though, disturbing the otherwise pristine initial impression.
"Is that…is that snoring?" Margaret asked.
"I say, if there's some lazy servant taking a nap on the bed, I will be having words with the management," her husband said.
"But the shikigami just told us that that they don't sleep, and that there isn't any human staff."
Charles was already in motion, though, storming into the bedroom to vent righteous wrath on the…nothing whatsoever marring the immaculately made bed.
"There's nobody in here."
"Yes, dear, like I just told you."
"And come to think of it," he said, looking around, "the sound seems to be coming from back this way."
The two of them both moved towards where they thought the sound seemed to emanate and ended up meeting on opposite sides of the plant.
"It's coming from…here?"
"What kind of plant is this, anyway, Margaret?"
"I don't know; I don't recall seeing anything like it before. This red flower on top is pretty, but I don't recognize its pattern."
"Well, I've certainly never heard of a flowering plant that makes noise. One expects certain exotic flora when abroad, but how can a person be expected to rest properly when a potted plant is snoring at him, I ask you?"
Perhaps the plant took his objection to heart, for just then it opened its eyes and yawned, then said something. The words were completely unintelligible, resembling neither English, French, nor German, but the tone of voice was unmistakably the muddled, blurry sound of someone who has just woken up.
"A plant fiend!" Margaret screamed.
The plant's eyes shot wide open in sudden alert as the Adcocks bolted for the door. A shower of light burst from the plant, suffusing the English couple in a pink haze of energy. The field was a spiritual barrier to protect their bodies from physical harm, which came in handy when, startled even more by its manifestation, the Adcocks stumbled into one another, bounced off the doorjamb, and crashed through an occasional table on their way to the floor.
"Where's the fiend?" Feuille cried, unfortunately continuing in a language only those with the Blue Blood could comprehend.
"I think they meant you," the shikigami said.
"Oh." The excitement quickly passing, Feuille yawned again. "Here I thought being a houseplant was a job where I could nap in peace. I hope Kaede doesn't get too mad at me."
The shikigami assumed a thoughtful pose.
"Well," it concluded, "I suppose it can't be worse than the time Alice got fed up with that one rude guest and gave him his morning wake-up call by having her rabbits play 'Reveille' on their horns next to his bed."
