Mama….
….I'm sorry, but this is the best thing we could do for him.
You saw what he was thinking before he died back then. What would have happened if he was awake when he got…..sent back there?
I had no choice. I broke my own rule so I could save him from the torment. I may not have met the Above-World for myself but I've seen enough and known enough. The others had too, but only I have the mind to do what I must.
We could have went home together, you see. All of us. I have no objections, the others included.
But you know that's not going to happen. Not anymore. He's trapped here, and I truly do not want to say this to you anymore than the others do but let us face it. We are not going home together just like he planned.
The Afterlife is closed off to him, and you and I could do nothing about it.
If you want to know what are we going to do, we remain close to him just as we always had. We'll watch over him and his wellbeing will be our first priority.
…
Satella will pay. I swear on my Soul, Mama. The others will have to wait in line, however…you'd be the first to lash out when you get the chance anyway.
~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~
Bright lights, soft surfaces, strained breathing, a tickled face, a sore body….
…and an unfeeling right hand.
It's certain that he's not dead, otherwise he wouldn't be bothered by these sensations.
What. A. DISAPPOINTMENT.
"Fucking…dammit…." He muttered, half-mournful and half-annoyed. He turned to lie on his side, trying to twist his spine and elicit a crackle from it, making him groan in appreciation.
He should have died. The bleeding should have been fatal. The diagonal cut on his belly was extremely large. His guts even spilled from it, he could remember feeling as his body tipped over backwards. He thought his death from a disembowelment was immediate.
It seems he was wrong. The people in the immediate vicinity from that loot house prevented him from falling into the pit of darkness. They shouldn't have. They shouldn't have.
The conclusion regarding where he is and what's currently going on are easy to make, considering what happened last night and what he knew from there. The dear girl, Emilia, was, after all, capable of healing magic. She had either healed him, or stabilized him long enough for a professional healer to properly heal him. After that, he is taken to an apothecary to lie down on a cot or he's sleeping on a bed inside her home.
He can guess the second one to be the case. Apothecary cots aren't this comfortable. Now he's going to wonder if there's going to be some impolite onlookers staring at his lying form while he slept. Most of the time, it was children. Some other times, it was guards with their weapons pointed at his face. Mercifully, there would be none, leaving him in the presence with Mother and the other spirits. Priests of the Serpent aren't really welcome in most parts.
"Look, Dear Sister, the guest has finally awoken."
"Indeed, Rem, he has awoken."
Maybe it's not so merciful today. Not that it would surprise him. He can sense two people nearby.
Rubbing his eyes with his left hand to get the sand out before sitting up with a groan. His body is actually sorer than he expected, even his spine protested against his movements. He growled, annoyed. Dammit, it truly felt like he was an actual decrepit elder. Fucking Poison…fucking Mana Burn…..
And by the Dragon, he's hungry. His depleted mana must've triggered it. He had shut off the sensations of hunger since his last proper meal.
He heard two sets of footsteps come close to both sides of the bed, "Ser, Ser, please don't move so much. Your body's still recovering."
"Ser, Ser, try not to exert yourself. Your body might just break on itself."
What kind of speech pattern do these two feminine voices follow?
Sitting up and scooting backwards to rest his back against the headrest behind him, his body rebelling against him once again as it retaliated by giving him aching sensations, he rubbed his eyes with his forearm one more time to get the last bit of sand out and looked on into the environment around him, squinting slightly from the bright lights piercing through the windows at the right of him.
Apparently, this home is owned by someone wealthy. Golden engravings, spacious room, an artisan's painting placed at the wall across him, even a personal bathroom, it's a giveaway. The dear girl sure hid certain details from him about herself. Looking down on himself, he found his armor gone and instead replaced with a light-blue sleeping robe, exposing much more of his bone-white skin from the chest, exposing his emaciated collarbone and ribs. Looking down on his right hand, he found a pretty ugly sight: anywhere not past the wrist, it was starting to darken from decay, his bones showing even further through the dead tissue, and it illustrated a wasted effort.
On the bright side, his wand is still in his locked grasp. That's a relief. The dear girl obeyed instructions.
Kissing the top of the wand affectionately, he lifted up the covers to see the lower half of his body. It seems they even bothered to give him pants. Feeling the sleeve of one leg from ankle to thigh, he discovered that they took his lower extremities as well. He's back to being a stumpy bastard, legless and pathetic.
He let out a sigh, slight traces of his irritation showing through his breath as he held his wrinkled temple with his left hand.
"Ser, is something wrong? Are you wondering about your armor? We apologize but you wouldn't be comfortable sleeping with them so we removed it."
"Ser, there's no need to worry. If it's about your armor, we placed it safely in the storage. Its skeleton, however, stayed with you the whole night."
Hmph. At least Mother didn't stray far from him like always, but he was surprised that these two girls aren't particularly unnerved at the fact that the skeleton framing his armor came alive to watch over him protectively throughout the evening. Either that or they are just good at hiding it.
Whichever case, it's a reassuring thing.
Oh, he just noticed that Mother, nothing more than a headless four-armed skeleton wearing his grieves and armored legwear of necromantic design, was seated at a chair near the door, resting one set of arms on the armrest while the other is crossed in front of her hollow skeletal chest. To anyone that's not of his Order, they would only see it unmoving and lifeless as if someone had odd tastes in humor in regards to pranking someone who's fresh out of sleep.
Turning to his right, he beheld a young girl, dressed in a custom-made maidservant's attire, leaning forward and resting her hands on the bed while staring at him curiously. To his wonderment, her hair was blue.
Turning to his left, he beheld what's practically the mirror counterpart: dressed in the same maidservant attire, leaning forward without placing her hands on the bed and she had pink hair. To his surprise, her eye color matched her hair.
Besides the hair and eyes, the only difference these two young girls was how they regarded him through the windows of their soul. The blue one's orbs were quite soft and inquisitive. The pink one's eyes were sharper, and professional.
"Compared to the things that happened yesterday, you two managed to be the most interesting sight to grace my eyes in the morning." He commented, his voice as emotionless as always but there was a ghost of a smile in his lips.
Both girls blinked, turning to face each other—and reemphasizing the mirror image analogy—exchanging thoughts with only a shared gaze before turning back to him.
"Thank you?"
"Thank you?"
They said/asked in unison.
Yes, indeed: they are the most interesting. This was quite the first time he's seen such types. Now to satisfy his curiosity, "How long was I incapacitated?"
"For an entire night, Ser."
"For almost 7 and a half hours, Ser."
Okay, he can sense the pattern now. The little sister speaks before the elder, and a direct answer before a specific answer.
"Regarding my belongings. Besides the armor, was anything else tampered or touched in anyway?" That bag had more than just bone dust inside. His robes, the preserved organs, and the vials of rancid substance that could melt an entire building. There's a reason why he never lets anyone come near his equipment, not even Mother.
"No, Ser. The skeleton put them away before we could."
"No, Ser. Given the attire you wear and the magic you carry, we wouldn't dare."
That's considerate of Mother, and he continues to be impressed as these girls aren't particularly showing any signs of being perturbed by the mention of a skeleton near their distance the night before.
"Lastly: how is Emilia?" If anything, he's concerned. Something he hasn't felt for someone in a while. Since he got nothing better to do, he might as well let his emotions run freely for the moment.
"Lady Emilia is alright."
"Lady Emilia is alright."
"Good to hear." Turning to the left, looking past the pink maid, he saw Mother come close, the metal boots rustling in each step. The twins quickly leaned back upright and stepped away from his bed before the skeletal upper body leant downwards, ruffling his head and holding his left hand with two right arms while the two left arms held his dead hand, as if mourning its decayed state.
Underneath her metal hand, he let himself relax against it and release a sigh of content. Even if this place seemed safe, even if he was given a soft bed to rest the entire night, even if his present company carry no ill-intent, even if he was here to recover and not to fight, he never felt secure unless Mother was nearby. He's not completely helpless without her, but the instinctual feeling never leaves no matter how much time passes. A glaring fact he cannot accept easily every time.
"I'll be fine." He replied to the concerned mumbling in his head, his words completely soundless as always towards her. "Other than me, we should get you cleaned up. That bitch dirtied you well."
The hand on his head gently smacked his hair twice before pulling his cheek fondly, the claw of the metal digit lightly poking into the pale flesh in the gesture. He was the one completely hurt the most compared to the two of them and yet he's far more worried for Mother than for himself. It amused her.
"Don't do that." He smacked her pinching hand down before leaning against her skeletal chest. "Not in the presence of these two pretty flowers." He said, turning to look at the twins, which in turn stared at him with bewildered eyes at the exchange he had with Mother.
"Dear Sister, the guest seemed to be close to the skeleton."
"Rem, the guest is emotionally attached to someone else's remains."
While it is specific, the Fair Maid did not seem like the type to hold back her words, does she? He got the feeling that he'll get along with her well. Honest people are the types he favors.
"Not the skeleton," He corrected, letting his eyes flash green, which made both girls stiffen and their eyes. Only in the dark places will his eyes stick out compared to everything else. It had a reputation to unnerve anybody not from the Underground City. "But the Soul residing in them. Since I cannot be hand-in-hand with the souls of the dead, a physical substitute will suffice. As for the owner of these bones…" He smirked evilly, decided to indulge in a bit of fun, "…his body was never the same after I extracted his organs and kept them for my research."
To his delight, the twins quickly huddled closely for security, fingers interlocked as they looked at him fearfully, trembling in place as they backed themselves into the pillar in-between the windows.
"How awful, Dear Sister. We have a horrible man in the mansion."
"How terrible, Rem. There is a madman in this room."
The fear in their innocent voices were like music, beautiful is the melody that he could've slept through a hard night while it graced his ears. He'll only tell them that the bones were from a stone troll he killed once he's had his fun. Such beings were aggressive to anybody that came close to their territory, annoying to deal with as well, especially when their skins were as durable as stone, hence their names.
Before he was about to go into detail about how the victim screamed his lungs out while he was extracting the intestines like rope from a well or how he kept the victim alive while he excavated every bone in his entire body from feet to torso, a familiar voice spoke from the door.
"I was wondering what was going on but apparently it was just you." Ah, it's Emilia. And this time she wore a comfortable set of wear unlike that attire yesterday. "Are you done scaring the maids, Ser Emurdol?"
He chuckled lightly, "Now that you're here, I'll reconsider and refrain from involving your dear maidservants in my amusement." He leaned away from Mother's chest and relaxed against the headrest of the bed. "It is good to see you well and healthy again, Dear Girl."
She smiled in response. "It's good to see you well too. And I told you, it's Emilia."
"Please listen to this, Lady Emilia." The Dear Maid called, pointing at him, "This man had just attacked my sister."
"Do listen to this, Lady Emilia." The Fair Maid called, also pointing at him, "This man had just pinned down and brutalized Rem."
He chuckled softly. By the Dragon, these girls' imaginations go wild, and their responses makes it twice as delightful.
"Stop teasing him, you two. As much as he appears to have done anything like it, I'm sure he doesn't mean any harm." Emilia told to the twins. "He won't hurt anybody without a reason. I believe in that much. Just give him a chance."
Oh?
"Very well, Lady Emilia. My sister will forgive him."
"Very well, Lady Emilia. Rem will give him a chance as well."
That was too naïve of her to assume such a thing from a Priest of the Serpent. More than most of his people looked down on Above-Worlders, including himself, and he would cause trouble even without a valid reason. The treatment he and his people get from the inhabitants only worsened their views on every idiot above ground.
But still, it doesn't mean she's wrong. He's not in the mood to cause any more trouble than harmless teasing could do.
"Um…" Emilia called out to him, uneasily switching glances between him and the skeleton standing beside the bed. "…would you, um….tell your…friend to move away for a while? I…it's really discomforting and uh…um…."
He locked his throat so the chuckle doesn't come out of his mouth. The dear girl's reactions are actually a lot more delicious than the twins. Oh, he's going to have so much fun while he's with her. He held Mother's nearest right hand and said in a soundless voice, "Go back to the chair. I'll call you when I need to walk."
Mother complied, her arms returning to their iconic positions behind her: crossed-armed and interlocked below the waist. As she passed by the dear girl, he watched with morbid amusement as she tried to stay out of the headless skeleton's distance like it was the plague that she hit the bed with the back of her knees and landed her bum into it.
Only when Mother returned to her seat did Emilia find her senses and stood back up to her feet, albeit still casting uneasy glances over her shoulder to where the skeleton sat. "Okay, th-that was scary. How is it moving on its own, Ser Emurdol?"
He hummed before he raised his left hand at chest level, a small glow of green necromantic energy coating his palms. "Through my magic, any unanimated thing will come to life. It's what the Order of the Serpent is truly known for."
"But do you not find it disrespectful that you're using someone's bones for your dark magic?"
The same old questions from the people Above-Ground who gave him a chance instead of attacking him straight off the bat whether by words or by actions.
He sighed tiredly, "To justify, the bones belonged to a monster that terrorized the local villages after it was starving for the lack of prey entering its territory. A stone troll, to be specific. Their bones are six times more durable than a simple knight's armor." He created a single human finger from the green energy, "It would be practical to create bones from nothing but they aren't as enduring." He pointed out, punctuating his words by crushing the feeble construction in his palm.
Emilia made a fascinated noise, looking at his handiwork with childlike interest, even more when he opened his hand and revealed the lack of bone dust in his palm. "You can create bones from mana?"
He was internally surprised to hear such a non-malicious inquiry, unlike the common rhetoric questions with an undertone of spite that usually come from the narrow-minds of idiots. He answered her softly, "It is the most basic form of spell taught to me, but she's the doyen among us." He motioned to Mother. "Her creations are as enduring as an aged tree. As sturdy as stones and boulders if she's resolute. She's even capable of creating houses of bones if she so wishes."
"Wow…"
She just said the word 'wow'. What an unusual feedback. This girl gets more and more interesting the more he talks to her.
"Wait…" Emilia turned from Mother to him, surprise lacing her voice, "She? It has a gender? I-I mean she has a gender?"
He let himself chuckle. Why is this girl such a delight to talk to? She's quite childlike for her age, "Not in the general sense. Gender is a property of the living world. When a life passes away, they become asexual as a soul. But the Soul inhabiting that frame was once female in her living life, therefore I refer to her as I would a woman."
"Once?" She parroted, noticing the implication in his words. "Are you saying you—"
"Denied her from resting in peace?" He asked, the cold tone in his voice slipping out for a moment. He will not allow her to finish that question. He's had enough of hearing it. "No. She came of her own will, possessing my armor and becoming my legs, allowing me to walk the world just like any other living being with a pair of lower extremities. Like you." He gestured to her skinny little legs, covered with thigh-high socks. "And we've been together since I was born. I would not part from her for anything." He'll never will, for she's the only person who held him up when no one else would. "Without her, I wouldn't have lived this far."
He expected an uncomfortable silence to follow, a very common occurrence when the other person sympathizes instead of being repulsed. He might as well avoid that. Calling for Mother, she stood up from her chair, the noise of clinking metal jolting the dear girl in surprise, and walked over to him once again. "For now. We would like to know where we are. As a resident of this building, would you kindly lead us outside?" He politely requested, Mother standing beside him on the bed. "I'm sure it isn't as burdensome as to heal the slit on my abdomen." He pulled his collar to look down to his stomach, finding a red line streaking across from the left side of the abdomen to the right pectoral. Such a gifted healer, she is. Average healers wouldn't be able to close such large wounds that made entrails spill out.
"Oh, of course." She nodded, "It's the least I could do. And I think it's a nice morning today." She remarked, looking at the cracks from the shades.
Not that he would share her thoughts about today's weather. He hates nice mornings. "But first, would you vacate the room along with your Dear Maids?" He requested, his voice raised for all to hear. "To reorient with my legs is to undress. To those who added a perverted connotation to something natural, please leave for your own sakes. To those who hadn't, you're welcome to stay and see me in my entire glory." He smirked freely as he watched the twins hightail for the door, followed by Emilia, who's strangely not blushing mad and closed the door behind her.
He was disappointed for the lack of bashful reactions but he laughed lightly anyway for their speedy departure before throwing off the covers and removing his pants. It seems they let his undergarments stay with him, that's a relief. Regarding the pathetic stumps that ended just above the thigh, no longer reminding him of that horrid day in his rite of initiation unlike his younger years, Mother sat beside him as per usual. With her four arms, she effortlessly lifted him up under the arms and slotted his stumps into the openings of the armored legs. Securing himself, he leaned forward and maintained balance by placing his hands on the skull-covered knees and allowed Mother's ribcage to open like a hatch, skeletal chest gaping like the maw of a Venus flytrap. Leaning backwards, the bones closed around his chest as if a squire was securing the straps of his plate armor, the bones reconnecting and securing in place comfortably.
The familiar sensation of Mother's armor around him gave him comfort, allowing him to feel that short surge of mightiness within him. Now with functioning legs and 4 extra arms, he can handle himself even if his mana was all gone.
He rarely fights alone, after all.
Adjusting the flaps of his sleep robe that slipped into his armored legs, he stretched his arms above him, Mother assisting in the motion by bending her spine even further backwards, pulling his upper body along until he felt the delicious crackles of his bones. "Ah, that's heaven." He muttered in pleasure. Righting his posture, he regarded his dead right hand once again, still holding the wand.
Before he could ruminate over the unfortunate decision he made prior to passing out, Mother grabbed his wrist with two right hands while the remaining appendages secured the fist in place and pulled the wand out of his literal death grip. If there was supposed to be satisfaction felt when that weapon was forced out of his tight grasp, he couldn't sense it. His right hand's dead, unfeeling, unmoving and about to rot.
Transferring the wand to the right front arm, Mother squeezed his left hand comfortably while the other holstered it to his spinal belt. The back arms pulled his right arm to his back, securing it in-between her metallic hands behind his waist as if to hide it from plain sight. The front right arm interlocked fingers with his left while it was patted by the other, a comforting message along with an idea was sent to his mind.
He chuckled, though mirthlessly at what she had in mind for his situation. "It's been years since we have done that."
Mother replied, assuring him that she still got it within her.
He sighed, shaking his head. "Well, it wouldn't hurt to try again." He squeezed the metal hand interlocked with his own. "Just do not make any awkward gestures if you will, otherwise you'll put me in a humiliating position."
To portray her unheard chuckle of amusement, she reached up and squeezed his nose, which he swatted away in a fit of annoyance. In a voice that was audible and clear, he said to her, "You never quit, do you, Mother?"
She sent him the message that she'll never stop as long as she's still around to watch her little boy grow up to reach his 30th turn, and she'll continue to do so even in his 80th turn.
~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~
After requesting to be shown to where his armor and bag was stashed to, he replaced his sleep robes with his personal robe of midnight black that seemed to absorb light, knitted from the unique fabrics of the Underground City, personally imbued with an enchantment that allowed it to constantly absorb ambient mana and transfer the stocked-up energy into the wearer if he wills it. Perfect for his situation, donning it made him feel refreshed and able-bodied compared to waking up with sores.
And as a stroke of luck, the black cloak he discarded and thought destroyed from his rampage at that loot house was there! And it's even repaired! Oh joy! It may not have any enchantments nor was it any special like any other cloak, but it had value unlike any other. Thank the Dragon Emilia brought it with her.
Afterwards, with a new attire underneath the skeletal frame of his upper body, he followed after Emilia as they walked along the hallway, intending to reach the front doors of the mansion and see the outside of this building. And as they did, conversations kept going between the both of them, "What has she done while I was unconscious?" He asked, matching her pace.
"Well, after I stabilized your wounds, it….well, she came alive and detached herself from you." She recalled, shuddering lightly at the memory. "I was shocked, unable to believe my eyes as I watched the bones in your armor come to life but as I noticed that she was carrying you very carefully and tenderly, I knew that it was something intended. So I hurried to the streets with her following me until Ram found me. It took a lot of explaining to but I managed to convince her and have you both taken home with me."
So he missed the fun? Aw, he would've loved to see the look on that Ram's face when she saw a headless four-armed skeleton carry his corpse behind the dear girl.
"Along the way, it was a bit of a sight, you know." She looked at the arms that clasped his dead hand behind him, "You lied atop her lap, your face was at peace as she lovingly stroked your hair and held your left hand. It's as if I was watching a mother watch over her son, as morbid as the sight is when the mother is a skeleton and lacked a head."
The far more emotional bunch of his people, particularly the elders and the little ones, would have found it heartwarming, uncaring if Mother's physical body lacked a head or not. The Soul had more significance than a pathetic and breakable shell. He even detests his own body if he could help it.
Still, it doesn't deny the fact that the dear girl had done what she can to help him, even Mother was grateful.
"She must be very close to you, Ser Emurdol."
He hummed in agreement, "She is very thankful for your efforts to save me, Dear Girl." He informed. "Just for that, she will hold you in high regard and will save your life whenever it's in danger. Very few people would have the heart to save someone like me in my rare times of peril."
"No one would? Why?"
Emurdol slowly turned a wide-eyed look towards her, his lips forming a line as he could not hide his shock. Does this girl not know anything? Others younger than her are already told of the horrors of necromancers, false or otherwise. How has this girl not?
"Did you just ask me why?"
She held a confused mien. "Yes?"
He gestured to the ribs closed around his chest. "Doesn't the bones and a different set of arms tell you anything?"
She blinked, "Well, aren't they necessary for your fake legs to stay together with your body? Or does…um she help you more often and does much better with it that other people won't be able to hold a candle to her healing skills?"
He stopped walking. She did too, her inquisitive look turning into concern.
….
….
….
By the Dragon…this can't be…
He's suspecting something to find reason in her ignorance, and this is going to be one of the rarest times that he's hoping to be wrong.
"Pandemonium."
She blinked, "Pardon?"
He pursed his lips, "Pandemonium."
"Yes. Yes, I heard you. What about it?"
He frowned, and his eyes started to brighten lightly, "What is Pandemonium? State to me your understanding of what Pandemonium is, Dear Girl."
Her expression was still blank, and a frown of confusion is beginning to develop further on her pale face. She looked at the ceiling, finger to her lips as she pondered the answer. A few seconds after, she answered with uncertainty, "Food?"
…
…
…...So his suspicions were true.
The Region of the Devils, mutinied by its suffering Souls, every satanic ruler thrown out of their positions and taken over by their charges, eventually turning Pandemonium, Hell itself, into a perfect emulation of the fruitful and colorful World when the Seraphs descended from above to herald their emancipation and shared the seeds of Life to the barren Realm and its occupants.
No one in his life would not ever know something like that. It's a knowledge all beings are biologically aware of, material or immaterial, eternally ingrained in the consciousness of those who could think.
This girl does not know what Pandemonium is.….and the equally universally-known Order of Necromagi that watched over the reformed world with a stern eye.
Another World, indeed. There is no other conclusion to make than this. He is in another World. A place that isn't Pandemonium, a place that wasn't once the Burning Hells. The air is different. The mana tastes different. The feel of the world was not normal. These were the minor discoveries after being forced in that park yesterday, and now they all add up to this.
What shocked him more was that he's not surprised at this revelation.
Perhaps he has seen too much of what Pandemonium has offered that his mental fortitude developed the strength of 3 mountains.
"Hm." He mentally shrugged and continued walking, draping an arm around the dear girl's shoulder to lead her along. "You asked why I regularly do not get help from others, yes?"
She nodded. "Yes. Why?"
"On the first impression, my people's usual attire is not the most welcoming sight." He drew the arm around her shoulder back to himself and gestured to himself once more, "I would be too terrifying to approach, and I expect it to stay that way. People are noisy, and I appreciate the company of the Spirits over them."
"Oh, you are a Spirit Mage like me." The dear girl chimed, smiling.
He shook his head, "By 'Spirits', I mean 'Souls'. The Souls of the Dead, specifically speaking. I am a Necromagus. A wielder of dark magic and the essence of death." It did not seem like he has any reason at all to conceal his origins anymore. The Order of the Serpent is not present and he's the only one of his kind in this very world….to his knowledge, at least.
"Necromagus. I never heard of anything like that before. And you said you wield dark magic. Is it the only specialty of such magicians?"
Yet another confirmation of the theory of this land being from another world. Her tone indicates clearly that dark magic isn't regarded as an ill practice to her compared to the common view in Pandemonium. You can never be too sure unless you are truly satisfied.
"Being a practitioner of such magics makes you susceptible to scorn, rejection, and prosecution in the hands of officials or not." His face remained composed as he began indirectly telling her of what he went through once he was outside the Underground City. "There are those who wield these magics for ill purposes, but that does not mean all who wield it are malign in nature and spirit. There are those who use it the same way other magical practices do; to seek knowledge and attain enlightenment. The means merely differ. Due to common people being idiots, however, they can't see the difference and instead regard every Necromagus as evil, no different from the hellspawn that exist solely to wipe out all that is good."
"You were treated unjustly just for that?"
"Every single one of my people had suffered the same way I had. The sooner they see white hair, pale flesh, shiny eyes and dark garbs together at once, a hallmark of my kin, it doesn't take long for a state of paranoia to run amok in one place just by seeing me exist." He ran a hand through his silver hair just to indicate his uniqueness. Throughout his speaking, his tone and expressions were consistently even despite the details, "No one would associate themselves with us nor even talk to us. That leaves only the option to look after ourselves, scrounge up whatever we can to make it through another day in a world that hates us."
He reached up to Mother's right front arm, running it across the weathered black steel before ending in her clawed grasp, clasping fingers with pale digits.
"Mother's the only one who stuck by my side since my birth. The food I needed, she hunted. The water I wanted, she dug the earth. The protection I sought, she cut down my enemies. I would not have lasted this far if it wasn't for her." He sighed despite himself, "I found very little amount of people who had more sense in their heads to ask questions before drawing a blade on my neck simply because I was a Necromagus."
He didn't need to face the dear girl to notice the sympathy in her eyes.
"Most of the idiots I've met tend to forget the simplest facts: we are no different than they are. We are humans just like them, we are capable of empathy and emotion, and we have our own culture. We do not deserve to die just because a religious authority declared us monsters."
The rage and boiling hatred that should have accompanied this exposition did not come like it usually had. All that hatred and prejudice on his people that existed for only the Dragon knows how long is gone now. He destroyed it. He gave his people a light that they never thought would happen. All of his bitterness and silent urges for revenge held little importance now.
The Order of the Serpent will be revered forever. All because of him.
He turned to the dear girl, noting the blatant expression of sympathy on her pale face, "I'm sorry that you had to go through so much, Ser Emurdol…."
"Mm." He pulled her close in a side-hug, continuing to walk onwards without missing a beat in his voice, "You can do nothing for what happened, and it is useless to do so now. What matters to me now is that you helped me without a single thought when others have not. Mother and I are beyond grateful." He nodded to portray that unsaid thanks. In tandem, Mother's front left arm patted the dear girl's head before clasping his dead hand again. "Thank you."
"Oh no, think nothing of it." She replied, slightly confused as she had to return the grateful nod back to 2 entities. "Back at that loot house, you had little reason to save me. You didn't even know my name at the time. And yet, you saved my life, it would be natural for me to return the favor."
Her words brought back the memory of Emilia helping a lost child find her way back to her parents. Comparing what she did that day to what she just said, it almost sounds hypocritical. 'Natural for her to return the favor', implying that she will act only if something of equal value is done or offered to her. Pfft! She wasn't certain that the fruit vendor had information she needed in the first place. She'd help people even if she gets nothing out of it. Even Mother had the same presumptions. She was a girl with a too-kind heart, but by the looks of it from yesterday, she apparently did not have a lot of sense in her head.
He already got the clue that she's one of the insincere type of women in the Above-World, so far apart from the women back in the Subterranean City he lived in. They have little to no qualms about letting their thoughts and opinions be known, unlike the men who are slightly tightlipped and opting to be silent instead.
Then a growling sound cut the silence of the hallway. All eyes immediately directed towards his abdomen, formerly split open and perfectly healed enough to audibly demand its intake after a week of being deprived of it.
His right arm, Mother's armored hand acting as proxy, patted his belly, as if to silence it. He wouldn't do that with his own arm but whatever. He'll let that one pass, "I failed to mention it before but I'm actually starving. I haven't ate a single crumb of food for 8 days."
"What!?" Worry quickly covered her countenance, "Why didn't you say so!? No wonder you look so malnourished!"
What did she assume if she didn't perceive his current body state as 'malnourished' until now? He may be feeble at the time before he was brought to this world but he's far from a weakling. Years outside the Underground City strengthened him to the point of being impenetrable, even at the worst conditions. Didn't his fight with the assassin make that point valid?
"Come with me!" She grabbed his left hand, making him feel the sensation of warmth from the blood rushing across her flesh. "I'll take you to the pantry!"
"No, no, no, no." He pulled her back to his side, Mother placed her left arm across her shoulders while his own is wrapped around her waist, making sure she doesn't try to go the opposite direction of where they're going just when they have walked quite a distance already, "Are the maidservant's preparing breakfast as we speak?"
"Eh? Uh, yes but—"
"Then I will wait until we are called to the dining table." He asserted, quickening his pace and forcing the dear girl to keep up under his grasp. "For now, you are to do your job and take me outside. I can suffer 2 months without food, this amount of time is trivial in comparison." Then he released her, slowing down and resuming to walk in a normal pace. "If ever I have a concern or a request, I will speak up. The fact that I haven't said anything of such is more than enough as an indication that I am not in desperate need of food."
"But…but didn't you say that you're starving?"
"Your hearing serves you very well." He deadpanned, sarcastic and unimpressed, "The fact that I'm not whining about it should suffice as an excuse." He quickened his pace again, not caring if he doesn't know the way. He looked over his shoulder to her, staring flatly at her, "Quickly now, Dear Girl. I'm not waiting for your permission just to see the outside of this building."
"Ah! But you don't know the way!"
"Then try not to get me lost in this place. If something happens to me, I will hold you fully responsible for the damages."
~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~
"You will not step out of the shade?" She asked, standing outside the shadows created by the massive mansion behind him.
"I hate mornings like this." He informed while frowning, squinting and crossing his arms, slightly feeling uncomfortable as it wasn't his right arm interlocked with the left before giving up and simply placing them on both sides of his waist. His actual right arm jerked against Mother's grasp every time he needed to use it, constantly reminding him of his mistake even when he tried to keep it out of his mind. "As a person who lived underground for more than half his life, sunlight is very hazardous to my health, skin and eyes."
"What?" She shot him a surprised look, "You lived underground?"
He raised a silver eyebrow, bewildered, "Did the pale skin and silver hair not give it away?" Surely, this girl's ignorance could only go so far?
"I thought you were a wise grandfather of a magician."
…..She considered him an Old Man?
Now he's very offended. If there's anything he could ask in return for saving her life, it's to not see him as an Old Man! Is that so much to ask!?
"I'm angry, Dear Girl. My people have suffered worse than mere words but I will not suffer you calling me old." His voice may not indicate any emotion as per usual but the furrows on his brow that created the creases and wrinkles on his face will portray the quiet fire inside him.
"But I think it's a good thing to be old!" She hastily assured him, trying to fix the damages but missing the point, "It shows your wisdom, your dignity an-and your experience with the world—"
"I'm at my 21st turn." He firmly told before rolling his eyes, sighing in disapproval, "This is why I look down on you people in the first place. You are all focused on what is seen and not what's beneath."
Emilia was silent for a few seconds, feeling awkward until she asked, "You're that young? But why do you have such an appearance?"
"If you question the paleness, it's my people's natural genetic quirk." He pulled a lock of long silver hair and ran his finger through it. "Humans who marry to our bloodline will eventually become pale from their lack of exposure to the sun and the continual practice of our dark arts. As for these wrinkles…" He frowned again, illustrating a point as the creases reemphasized the lines on his face. "It's because of ignorant and insensitive people like you. If you think all they did is sling insults at me, you are wrong."
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry." She bowed apologetically. "I didn't know!"
He harrumphed, admonishing the dear girl with a stern gaze. She may be a gifted mage but she's still young. When was the last time he's seen such a person whose age is accompanied by their childhood stupidity?
"Please forgive her, Emurdol." Oh. The fay cat, Puck, came back, emerging behind the girl's neck. "She forgets her manners sometimes."
"Hello again, Fay." He commented, nodding in greetings. The being must have stored enough mana to regain its physical form. Maybe he should've studied further in the physiology of Spirits, he just didn't consider it since none of them before had done the same thing as this being did, creating their own body instead of possessing a fitting vessel.
"Yes." Puck began to yawn, as if freshly awake. Interesting, "Good morning. You too, Lia. My goodness, I thought I lost you." He turned to him, "I can't thank him enough for saving you." It's still jarring to hear clear indications of its mentioned status as the girl's guardian, however. "I'll have to reward him for his hard work."
Oh?
"At what extent can you reward me, Fay?" He inquired, taking the opportunity to test the limits of the strange being's power.
"Oh, I can do a lot! I may look small and cute but I'm actually strong!" Puck winked with a pumped fist. He questions that claim but he figured to not think too much about it. The Order did taught him the facts: appearances and age meant little in regards to how much you could do. He's a prime example himself. He achieved a lot despite his youth back Underground, "I can easily make you a rich man!"
So not just a fay but a wish-granting fay. Hmph. When did fairy tales come true? Aside from the fact that Pandemonium was usurped by its captives. "Even if that was your choice of a reward for me, I would still refuse." He told with crossed-arms, the firmness and credibility very clear in his voice.
"Still?" Puck tilted his head. "What do you mean by 'still'?"
His arm jerked against Mother's grasp, prompting her to raise up a finger in his stead. He rolled his eyes before going along, "There's a saying amongst the common folk about my people." He said, remembering the words fondly. It was one of the very few good things uttered about the Order from the Above-World. "If you make a Death Priest choose a reward, they'll get tongue-tied." He recited with a small smile, "There is also another: If you are to reward a Priest of the Serpent, choose for them because they're irresolute." Mother lowered her arm, "You can reward any other man with riches, but not me or my people. We have little desire for material things, and I am very uncertain as to what I want….hm…" Mother held his chin, guising him in a thinking-pose as his dead hand couldn't do the same. "Would you come here?" He requested, beckoning the spirit with his open left hand.
As Puck sat on his haunches atop the pale palm, brushing his flesh with immense fleeciness, with Mother taking the chance to stroke a metallic digit across his head, he said, "I will hold you on to that. For now, I plan to indulge in your fur." Then he took the fay close to his face, rubbing him against his cheek like a stuffed animal, eliciting giggles from the being. As Mother played with his long tail using her right and scratched behind the fay's ears with the other, he scratched his fingers across Puck's belly, marveling silently at how fleecy his fur was.
"Looks like you two are getting along quickly. I will have an audience with the Spirits now. You two can socialize all you like, try not to disturb me, okay?" Said Emilia as she took a separate space in the shade.
He hummed, still rubbing the huggable being against his cheek, "The Dear Girl's evenings must be quite pleasant with you nearby for immediate hugs and kisses."
Puck chuckled in amusement, "Yeah, that would be something to be jealous about but unfortunately, I can only take on a physical form around day time hours. Come night, I'll be sleeping in Lia's gem till next morning."
"Hm, how unfortunate." His mournful tone was clear, "I was hoping for it as well."
"Why? Were you hoping to get a turn of the cuddles with me?"
"Maybe." He's never opposed to having a delightful creature joining him in his sleep. He even enjoyed it when a cat slept with him a few winters back and he never moved away from the bed, stroking its ginger furs as it slept until the above-world creature woke up and walked away the next morning. "But I would worry about crushing you instead of enjoying your company if you were to grace my bed with your presence." Including the fact that Puck's a lot tinier than that cat, he wouldn't be able to notice if he's flattened the fay underneath him.
"I'm actually surprised that you can say that out loud, even if your thoughts are the same." Ah, yes. The fay can actually read minds. It seems his secrets aren't safe anymore, but luckily for him and the dear girl, he's allowing himself to be open to the two in exchange for saving his life….
….even if he didn't want to be saved.
~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~
"I'm honestly amazed." He said.
"By what?" Asked Puck, sitting atop Mother's palms level with his waist while he's lovingly stroked with clawed digits, caressing his fur and scratching behind his ears.
"That someone who is not of my Order is communicating with the Spirits." While it may be true that his people speak with the Dead more often than with the living, they have no trouble speaking with the Spirits of Nature. The methods to do so are quite the same, just with different principles.
"Say, about your Order." The fay began, still getting scratches from Mother, "How many people are in it?"
"I think you misunderstand. By Order, it refers to the group of people who do assignments outside the Underground City for the elders. I'm one of those people." He tapped his knuckles against his chest in gesture, "And Lady Sabarra, the Immortal Queen of the Underground City of the Serpent created that Order, giving us a role in the World Above-Ground." Even with this information so easily exposed, it's not like it exists here.
Puck let out an interested hum, appraising his information open-mindedly, "Really? Are your people like you, or are they more like you?"
He raised a silver eyebrow as he looked down on the spirit, "That's such an odd question, Fay. Elaborate, if you would so kindly."
"Ehehe." He giggled, right cheek gently squeezed by two clawed fingers, "I mean: are they all pale like you? Do they have white hair like you, even the kids? Do they wear someone else's bones as armor too?"
He nodded, "To each question, yes. However, the third question is up to the Death Priest's tastes. Depending on their skills with bone magic, they will either create strong and sturdy bones or fragile bones. Some other times, we just take the ones from our defeated enemies. Brittle bones are not practical as armor but it can serve well as long-range projectiles. You'd be surprised what a tiny fragment of bone could do if propelled at imperceptible speeds."
"Ah. Just like when we first met?"
He chuckled at the memory, "Exactly. Those teeth bones would crumble even in a child's hand but no one can deny their lethality."
"Sweet. And you said something about your people capable of talking to Spirits?"
"More like we speak to the Spirits of the Dead. And before you ask, yes, we converse with our long-deceased relatives as well, even our little ones are capable of doing so. It's mostly chitchat and meaningless banter but momentously, we learn and acquire their wisdom when we are deemed fit to earn them in their eyes. The dead are still capable of celebrating with the living. Whatever the humans Above-Ground do, we of the Underground do the same with our ancestors in tow."
"Hehe." He watched as Mother scratched the fay's belly vigorously, "If anyone could do that, then nobody will have to be sad anymore even if someone in the family dies."
Hmph. That had been considered by the Order, to teach their beliefs regarding life and death to the people Above-Ground, but what they experienced at their half-hearted attempts taught them very well that not everybody is accepting. "There's a reason we hid away from the world above, much less allow most others outside of the Order to learn from us. There are some people who just won't listen, and there are also those who crumble at the knowledge and eventually make mistakes that we have to rectify. People Above-Ground are just idiots."
"Well, you can't blame them, can you?" Puck asked, "Their upbringings and cultures completely clash against yours. While I won't say that there aren't people who accept your views, they're really hard to find in a crowd."
He knows that already, it does not mean he will accept it and not be furious, however. He may have given Above-Worlders a chance now but they're still idiots at heart.
"My turn to ask….do you, as a Spirit, truly exert yourself as the Dear Girl's Guardian?"
"Well, yes!" Puck happily confirmed, "She may be a contracted to me with strict conditions imposed but I still love and treasure my Daughter, Lia like any parent would!"
The fay just called Emilia his daughter. What has the world come to?
….not that he's any different. He had a dead person's Soul sticking close to him, helping him walk and keeping him safe since birth. He called that Soul 'Mother'. To an Above-Worlder, it would be just as incomprehensible.
And to hear that Puck is actually contracted to the dear girl…well, that clears up the things he's been questioning lately ever since discovering it's physical manifestation.
"I fancy the pet name you gave her." He told, watching as Mother played with Puck's paws. "Fitting for a spirited daughter like her."
"I like your nickname for her too. 'Dear Girl'." He giggled, "Every time I hear you say it, it makes you sound like a grandpa!"
He instantly frowned, "Watch it now."
"I'm sorry!" Puck continued to laugh, "But seriously, you sound and act like an Old Man. Even if you're only past two decades, I don't think you're gonna convince anybody with that attitude and that look! Hihi! Hey! Why don't you take my place and I'll adopt you as my son, eh!? The Dear Girl will then have 2 daddies taking care of her!"
"I'm begging you two….!" Their attention turned to the straining voice of the dear girl, looking like she couldn't focus well on the conversation she was having with the Spirits. "Could you please not discuss your positions as my relatives!? It's not like I'm in desperate need of father figures, you know!"
That made him laugh along with Puck, the latter floating back to the dear girl's palm.
"It's alright, Lia. He's a good guy." Puck told to the dear girl, his voice not at all in a hush volume, as he could hear him perfectly well. Even if he had whispered, Emurdol's hearing is quite above-average for a human. A trait his people shared at the right circumstances. "I examined him very carefully and I found no malice, enmity or wickedness in him. Just look past his looks and his habits. He's clean, just like when he first met us."
His attack back in that alleyway might have been excessive to be considered play, even to his people's standards, but he was never a practitioner of restraint. Though, he was genuinely surprised that the entire conversation he had with the fay was actually scrutiny in the form of a friendly conversation, taking advantage of his openness. Clever. But he won't hold anything against it. It was done out of concern for his daughter.
"Now, I have little reason to bear ill-will towards such an interesting specimen." He wore a wicked smile, "Instead of having her as a nice subject for my research and study about the usefulness of her bones, I'll just mercilessly tease the Dear Girl for her childishness and naiveté."
"Wh-what?"
"Ahaha! You've got really weird tastes in humor!" Good to know that the fay noticed the first half of his words was meant as a joke. He's certain that he'll get along with the being swimmingly. Anyone who can understand his line of thought should be welcomed as a friend.
"And you…." He stepped close, scratching the Spirit's nose affectionately before giving the same treatment to his soft chin. "…should not read my mind without my permission. If you want to know my secrets, simply ask. While I do value my privacy, especially to those I have known for merely less than 24 hours, I am more than willing to lay down my trust to you, Puck." He finally said his name. Such a simple name, but it's definitely fitting. "So, if you want to chat some more, maybe learn about me and my people, come see me in my free time. Just do not bother me in my sleeping hours." He fluffed Puck's cheeks before drawing back. He turned to the dear girl, "Of course, the Dear Girl shares your privilege. If she's curious, she need but ask."
Puck wore an unreadable expression for a second before wearing an elated face a cat could possibly make, "It's been a while I got touched like that, much less being trusted so much by someone else's secrets other than Lia. Somehow, it makes my heart flutter! Thanks for trusting me, Emurdol. I'll make sure not to waste it."
To hear the fay actually say his name made him smile. Not a wicked smile or the creepy one he commonly wore to unnerve people, but a genuine one. Very little people get to see it. Very little.
"Ser Emurdol..."
"Hm?" What's with the dear girl? She's wearing an unreadable face as well.
"Did you know that I'm a half-elf?" She asked, her tone implying that she's expecting him to react harshly to it.
Well, he did pride himself in being the opposite of people's expectations. He hated above-worlders, after all. "Are you insinuating that I'm blind?" He bluntly asked.
"Eh?" Priceless. The shock on the girl's face nearly made him blow out laughing. "No! I was actually referring to…uh…"
He reached forward to trace a thumb on her right elven ear, which made her yelp and flinch from the cold temperature and cutting whatever she was trying to say off, "These ears may evade the attention of most others, but I am not most others. And if you expect me to put you in high-regard because you're an elf, or demean you because you're a half-breed, then expect to be disappointed. The Order of the Serpent couldn't give any less of a shit even if you're the High Queen or the Archbishop of the Holy Order. In our eyes, you're just another mortal doomed to die, just like the rest of us."
As a form of display to lay down credibility and legitimacy to his claims, he let a small quantity of his necromantic energies surge out of his body, spewing out of his shoulders like a fiery aura of green and forming terrifying images of skulls as they waved and swished.
Dismissing the performance, he finished with a proud and dignified inflexion as he recited his people's creed, "Nothing is eternal, and we of the Order of the Serpent will walk the line between life and death to safeguard the balance of all things." Lowering his head and exhaling a breath, the professional persona left him and brought back his personal side. "To me, Emilia." He said her name, to gather her full attention. "You're just a naïve little girl who saved my life. Half-elf or not, you will not change the way I'll act around you."
The girl lowered her head, her expression out of view thanks to her bangs. Before he could quip about damaging her pride, her head raised back up and there was a smile on her face.
"You truly are strange, Ser Emurdol." She said in a soft voice, "To know about Spirits, to hear your views and on top of all that, your honest thoughts about me, a half-elf…..I can't help but be happy…."
….By the Dragon, her smile shines.
"Hm."
The sound of the doors to the mansion behind him opening drew his and the two's attention, prompting Mother to turn him around. Out from the portal were the two pretty flowers who graced his bedroom early in the morning.
"Oh. Is breakfast ready?" Emilia asked.
"Yes, Lady Emilia. Also, Lord Roswaal, the Master of the Mansion has come home. Would the guest please come inside and join him for breakfast."
"Yes, Lady Emilia. Also, Lord Roswaal, the Master of the Mansion has come home. Would the guest please come inside and join him for breakfast."
The joints of his jaw bone instantly began to ache and the saliva flowed inside his mouth. The mention of breakfast triggered the hunger that he has been barring away for the remainder of the morning till now to come back. He nearly broke composure and would have bolted to the dinner table if his legs were his own.
"Let's hurry back, Lia." Puck prompted, turning a teasing eye to him. "Otherwise, Mr. Bones here will keel over and die of hunger in a matter of minutes."
"Thank you for voicing out what's in my head, Fay." He said that term like it was bitter tea. He doesn't appreciate having his predicament exposed like that. Even so, it's the truth of his situation and he really needs to eat.
~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~
He goes through another long trek on the same long hallway with a light banter in-between, and as soon as he's told that the dining room is just up ahead, he immediately bolted, applying a bit of magic to make it look like he vanished instead of running ahead, leaving the dear girl and the fay behind in confused shock for his sudden disappearance, reaching the dining room in a matter of seconds. The long table lined with chairs was there, along with an extravagant chair resting at the head in front of the fireplace that clearly indicated the Master's seat. The décor of the room is just like his borrowed room, engraved with gold and the distinct shapes were present.
What drew his attention the most, however, was the child donning a red royal dress staring at him. A child would have been nothing unusual to him, even if they wore such restrictive clothing, but the aura around her little form said otherwise. And she had the most interesting hairstyle he's ever seen in his life.
Even if he could care less about appearances, the diligence put to forming that amount of golden hair into such a design deserved credit.
"Putting aside that light-devouring robe of yours, Betty commends your magickry." The little one spoke, stepping close and holding Mother's front right arm nonchalantly, brushing her tiny thumb against the black steel experimentally as the former returned the favor against her little digit. "Not many are capable of extending their will on inanimate objects but yours is capable of its own freewill."
With his left hand, he waved it at the area above her head, grabbing at a tiny clump of mana that leaked out before assessing it mentally. The discovery nearly blew his mind.
"You're an archmage?" His voice failed to maintain his astonishment. He was taught that appearances meant nothing in regards to capability, yes, but not a single child has ever caught up to the meaning behind those words until now.
"Oh, you could tell?" She asked, a condescending look clouding her strange orbs. It looked like her pupils had a little butterfly in each of them. "If that's all you can discern, then you should know that Betty is the one who restored your organs, I suppose."
His eyes widened, shocked. "Oh? I thought it was Emilia who healed me…."
"That silly girl merely stabilized you. She's not skilled enough to heal fatal wounds yet." She informed. "Unfortunately, your right hand is beyond even my abilities to save."
Her claim brought back the names of the many powerful healers he met and knew back in Pandemonium. They were all capable of remarkable feats of healing, they could even create an organ from nothing. He even had his lung replaced when it was decimated by Gluttony's powerful drug, nearly sending him to his communion with the Dragon prematurely if it weren't for Mother carrying him back to the High Priestess.
It seems this girl's name will be added to the list.
Placing his able hand to his bone-inlaid chest, all 4 of Mother's arms rose up, releasing his dead hand momentarily to clap the pattern of gratitude on either side of him, metal crashing against metal filling the silence before the jingle ended. With one knee set to the ground, he waved his arm outwards grandiosely, sending a small clump of his imbued mana into the air and letting them surge towards Betty's mana core.
His personal show of gratitude as a Priest of the Serpent: clapping the jingle of thanks before sharing his unique mana to the person thanked. Those of the receiving end will be granted good health, vigor, a small stock of their mana becomes potent in their next moment of spell-casting, and they receive a blessing from the Dragon too.
He looked on as Betty's form shook slightly, the sudden dose of energy making her have the sudden desire to start running around the mansion. Amazingly, she managed to hold herself back and instead ask in the same domineering tone, "What have you done?" Only the wisest mages could resist the urge.
He commends her ability to compose herself that easily. "I thanked you, Archmage." He rose up to his feet, Mother's arms going back to their respective places and holding his dead hand behind him. "Use that mana carefully. The strength of a candlelight will instead become a bonfire the next time you use a spell."
"Oh?" She held up a hand in front of her, her fingers positioned as if to snap.
Mother quickly took several steps back.
And he was saved from a full-facial brush of a small fireball erupting from the little archmage's fingertips and towards the ceiling, leaving a blackened spot.
"Oh." She deadpanned, not at all surprised by the unexpected execution of strong magic. "I see. Betty accepts your gratitude, I suppose."
And apparently, she has an odd suffix in her sentences and refers to herself by her own name.
Then suddenly, a flamboyant voice drawled from the door.
"Weeeell, look at this! Just having the first meetings and your both aaaaaalready getting along!"
Once again, he could not believe his eyes and he wasn't able to keep his stoic mask held up anymore as he faced the person who arrived from the door. "What…in the name of….."
The dandy of a man did not seem to notice his shock and instead focused on the little archmage, "And just how wooonderful it is for you to grace our presence in the dinner table, Beatrice! I am aaaaaaaabsolutely delighted that you decided to diiiiine with me!"
He could not believe his ears. This man's voice…this man's inflexion…...it's just so….
"Spare me the assumptions, Roswaal. Betty is waiting for Bubby, that's it." The little archmage, actually called Beatrice, turned her eyes to the door once again and her cold expression suddenly lapsed into a child having presents in the winter festival. "Buuubby!"
Bubby?
Oh, the dear girl has finally made it. The fay waved a little paw from the latter's shoulder in greetings, "Hi, Betty. How were you these last 4 days? Were you staying fresh and ladylike as always?"
"I've been waiting for so long for my Bubby to return, will you be able to stay with me today, I suppose?"
Puck flew to the little archmage's palms, "Sure. It's been while so let's have fun together!"
"Yay!" Squealed the little archmage as she spun in rapid circles away from the door and towards a chair, her skirt flaring magnificently in the motion as she squeezed her precious Bubby to her chest.
Just about the first half since knowing Beatrice, she acted so much like a cold and distant individual, much like one of the elite sorcerers he's pissed off before and now he's watching her act exactly as how her little body entails: like a child.
This world is definitely not for him. He had seen his share of the odd and the strange but not this kind.
"Bewildered?" The dear girl asked as she stood beside him, smiling at the spinning little archmage. "Beatrice and Puck are really attached to each other."
"I see that…." He replied, his face slowly waning to become a wry smile. "…admittedly, I'm a little envious of their intimacy." That earned him a giggle from the dear girl.
Then his smile disappeared as he felt the presence of the dandy approaching him. Turning to face the person in question, he found out that they shared the same towering height, especially when this strange person's face is very close!
Mother thankfully stepped back, granting him his needed space. "What the….?" He couldn't believe the amount of makeup this dandy has. It was heavily done that he couldn't see the slightest trace of natural skin color and he even had purple lipstick. What's more is that he had mismatched eyes. One was gold and the other was blue, all had slits in each pupil. His clothing is nothing short of extravagant and exaggerated. It was as if he picked the most spectacular attire possible in his wardrobe and wore it all at once, he even wore a tail and chained his right ankle. Not a single trace of his skin is present, especially his hands that wore white gloves.
If this man is attempting to appear regal as a clown, then his efforts has certainly paid off. It's effective.
"Sooooo, is this the dark knight in glinting armor that saved our deeeeeeaaar Lady Emilia?" To hear that drawl this close was even more spine-tingling. "Myyyyyy, so what I've heard is true. You actually have more than a single paaaaaaaiir of arms! I had expected someone younger and haaaandsomer. No offense, good sir."
"Roswaal. Be nice!" Emilia told firmly behind him, "And yes, he's the one. Anyway, shouldn't you be introducing yourself already?"
"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten my manners." The dandy assured before extending a hand to him in a dainty flourish, "Pleased to meeeeet you, Ser Emurdol Viandegroc. I am the Maaaaaaster of this Mansion, Roswaal L. Mathers."
Mother quickly grabbed the dandy's unextended left arm and he quickly clasped it with his own left before the metallic hand grabbed the right and shook it.
"Oooooooh, a southpaw."
His couldn't believe his discovery once again as he read the energy signatures. The mana potency this dandy has, and the kind of circulation it has as well….
….this world is definitely trying to blow his mind on purpose. Just what kind of people live in this mansion anyway?
Looking up to the smiling Lord's face, he barely said it without choking, "You're an Archmage?"
It's become painstakingly clear that he and Mother are not the only ones of distinct attire and personality in this place. The Dandy, Lord Mathers will be giving them company starting today.