The glass of water emptied to the bottom, he slammed it with a resounding thud on the table, followed by an extremely relieved exhale before a throaty voice spoke, "Ah….whoever cooked this fine meal, you have earned my compliments. It was the most tasteful feast I've ever indulged in after 2 cycles."
"Your praise honors me, Ser." It seems it was the Dear Maid who cooked the meal, bowing momentarily before collecting the dishes.
"I can seeee that." The Dandy commented, hands folded in front of him as he continued speaking in his happy drawl. "You even choked two times!
Okay, both incidents were admittedly embarrassing, but could anyone blame him? He was hungry. He tried to hide his slightly reddening cheeks by snickering at his own mishap minutes ago. "It wasn't much trouble. I recovered from both just fine." All it took to unclog his throat was just a long drink of water. Cold, delicious, filtered water. River water these days are starting to get old.
"You should slow down while eating, even if you were starving for 8 days." The dear girl advised softly. So kind...
"Ohooo." The dandy's eyes widened at the information, looking at the dear girl in exaggerated shock before turning back to him, "And you were already at a pretty diiiiismal state before you were fatally injured and brought here. I admire your fooooortitude, Ser Emurdol."
This man's movements and his words…..it could not be unseen nor unheard. "Thank you." He said tonelessly before setting his gaze down on his empty glass of water as it was refilled by the fair maid. Nodding his thanks, he drank from it again, leaving just half left. There had been tea, but he never touched the cup itself. He hated tea. The Order taught him to never be picky because the Above-World could offer so much and it should not be taken for granted but still...
He hated tea.
Mother, whose front right arms had been wiping themselves clean with a napkin from the food stains, finally set the stained cloth down and returned to their place, the right resting on the table while the left rested atop his own, following his movements in perfect unison.
His lip curled. She spoke the truth. She still has it in her to function as a proxy with uncanny efficiency. The spoon never so much as shook in her black-steel fingers while she fed it to him. In someone else's, it seemed as if her right arm was his own. He was worried because he was a right-handed man. She truly helped him save face.
The dandy began to speak, "If you do not mind my asking, Ser Emurdol, whyyyy is your right hand crossed over your back while an artificial arm aaaaaacts in its stead?" He gulped.
He is not liking where this question is going to lead towards. This already happened twice before in Pandemonium, what's stopping it from happening the third time?
"If you haven't known…." He kept his face from expressing anything but he did grimace from within. Taking another long pull from a cup of water, Mother released his right hand and he brought it into view for all to see. Nothing but a darkening fist with the bones underneath beginning to show through the dead skin. He heard the dear girl gasp beside him, probably flabbergasted at its current state compared to yesterday, he heard the fay mutter something, and he heard the dandy and the little mage hum.
"Weeeell, I can see that it's in such a sooooooorry state." Roswaal commented, the sympathy in his voice showing amidst the odd drawl and inflexion.
"Decaying, useless and dead. Yes, it is a sorry state." He agreed in the same dead tone before placing it back behind him, locking it back to Mother's grasp. His hand's state does nothing more than piss him off, especially when he looks at it, "Since I had thought that my time had come yesterday, I had to make sure that my wand does not land into anyone's hands except mine. Apart from its sentimental value, it's a very volatile weapon."
He saw a tiny flinch from the person beside him.
He slowly turned his head to the left and gave Emilia a reprimanding stare, "Oh, so you touched it, didn't you? I thought I warned you against it before I passed out." The dear girl seemed to shrink under his gaze, his eyes slowly beginning to glow as she turned away from him.
"I….just forgot." The dear girl guiltily confessed. Oh really? "I'm sorry. But at least she pushed me away before it got worse." She added, gesturing to Mother.
He held his stern gaze before sighing and patting her on the shoulder, which made her flinch and yelp from the freezing temperature of his grasp. That was mercy, he could have slapped her for her insolence. "At least you were not torn apart beyond recognition."
"Hmm?" That caught the dandy's attention and a panicked glance from the dear girl. "Why is thaaaat?"
In a better mood, he could have explained this with a lot of mirth brimming inside him as he prepares to soak in the terrified and disgusted looks of the others but his current state of mind was everything but bright.
Not like this, especially when it regarded last night, "The consequences of touching it when your mind is weak and your will isn't forged in iron as well as not having any history with the inhabitants of the wand, the Vengeful Spirits will take over your body and mutilate it from the inside, killing you. If you're get lucky, they will keep your body until they find a fitting host to possess. And when they do, they'll cast you aside by breaking you apart." He took another drink from his cup, emptying it. "If I were to die, it must crumble with me, so the Souls can finally be released from their prison and earn their peace in death with me."
Even more fright clouded the dear girl's face, the dandy merely regarded him coolly, "You seem so nonplussed despite having a close bruuush with death."
So no one is going to comment about the Souls trapped in his wand like a prison? It usually happens, strange...
He ignored the dandy's comment, not opting to express his people's belief regarding death, "As for the case of my right hand, I'm currently standing in the fence whether to find the means to heal it back or simply remove it." The latter choice made his face turn into a dark visage. He had the means to replace the hand, he had the knowledge and the abilities to even recreate it. He has everything he needed to imitate what the Great Healers could do….
"Even for me, it's a hard decision to make." He finished.
But he can't….he just can't. After suffering grueling consequences when he had attempted it for the first time, he damned the blood type he was born with. It was the one and only thing that prevented him from reconstructing his own flesh with that of others. His peers had managed it. His seniors managed it. Everyone managed it…..except him. Only him.
"Aaaaanyway!" A cheery drawl broke him out of his fiery thoughts, the thought of denying his father from the afterlife gone and he turned to the dandy lord. Oh. He just realized that his necromantic energies had been leaking out of him from his sour mood, filling the area around him with shades of light blue and he didn't even notice it till now. The maids were getting tense too, looking at calculatingly and warily, especially the Dear Blue Maid. He quickly drained the energies back to himself just as the dandy began to speak, "Ser Emurdol, I express my sympathy for your situation and I hoooope you make a decision that you don't regret."
"Hm…" He grunted, nodding and trying to tame his expressions. He can tell that his eyes were burning green and the frown on his face was setting in. There had been cases where he wouldn't notice it, especially when his mood isn't bright. It tends to draw a blade coming for his back out of paranoia. He's not allowing that, not even Mother.
"A switch of topic: do you know wheeeeere you are?" The dandy asked.
Now that's a nice question, it gave him relief. It made it easy to forget about his hand or his misfortunate decisions. He shook his head, white hair swishing in waves, "No. I haven't the slightest idea of where this manor is located or what country I am. I had planned to inquire the Spirits later for answers but if you can enlighten me, please do so." He nearly spoken out loud that he did not belong to this world. His transparency may have grown over the years but there's only so much he could share, especially to someone of authority he didn't trust.
"Straaaange." The dandy tilted his head, wearing an enigmatic smirk, "I thought someone would be prepared to have just the most baaaaasic of knowledge when you enter the Kingdom of Lugunica in the Mathers Household. Instead, you come in blind and you aren't even awaaaaare of the current situation."
"You aren't aware at all, Ser Emurdol?" The dear girl asked, somehow looking worried for some reason.
He shook his head again, "Absolutely not."
The lord's delicate eyebrow rose up, "Oh? I figured you were the type to think things caaaaarefully before taking action. Was I wrooong?"
He nearly said 'if I could help it, then yes, I would have'. Out of caution, he held his tongue. He opted to simply play the oblivious foreigner, draw out as much information as he can about this place while searching answers for the questions he's been having. "And judging by your tone, I assume that the situation is anything but peaceful….?"
"That is correct." The dandy answered, "As of now, the Kingdom itself is without a King and has become unstable."
There wasn't any drawl on that sentence. "What of the heirs and heiresses? Isn't that how the process work? What of the King's descendants? Will they not inherit the Seat of Power?" Just because the Underground City doesn't believe in politics, it doesn't mean the Order shouldn't learn about them when they go out to the Above-World. Sometimes, you will have to humor the moronic hierarchy of idiots if you want to perform your operations without anyone hassling you in the process.
"Well, yes. That's noooormally the case. However, half a year ago, an epidemic spread throughout the city. It was an illness that taaaargeted people of a specific bloodline."
It wasn't hard to figure out the implications, "And that plague eradicated the King and his entire family tree." He finished, earning him a nod.
If this plague is not the work of pettiness from some Above-Worlder, then what is? Someone is clearly trying to shake the kingdom for some twisted outcome if it meant killing the ruler. "Considering what I saw last in the Kingdom, things are fairly stable without a King." He told.
"That is because a council of wiiiiise men are administering the kingdom in the king's stead." The dandy pointed out, "They are well-known individuals whose naaames are found in the history books. While they are handling the kingdom without a problem, they are in the process of selecting a new ruler and sooooooon. Lugunica's relations with other countries have been neglected, leaving it iiiiiisolated..." The lord tensed up, "...and they can't have that. The Kingdom must have a king."
This kingdom…..without a king….in the process of selecting a fitting ruler to take the seat of power….and he's brought here at this time of events?
That doesn't sit right with him. Not at all. Mother had the same thoughts as well. She's not liking this in anyway.
"And now, yooooooou arrived at the time when the Royal Selection is nigh." The dandy lord is having the same thoughts as well, "I couldn't help but find your presence veeeeeeery peculiar. And as you have made contact with Lady Emilia, it is noooow the business of the Mathers household."
...he held a guarded expression, his body still and unmoving, not even blinking as he noticed the familiar atmosphere settling. The atmosphere of distrust, and suspicion. He forced himself to remain calm, staying in the passive and allowing things to continue as they are now. A sharper wit is a Priest of the Serpent's greatest weapon than his scythe, said his mentor.
"Now I will not immediately take action so suuuudenly, as there's nothing but circumstantial evidence in regards to you." He could not miss the smartly-veiled hostility in the dandy lord's mismatched eyes, despite his joking and playful tone, "But if you act out of hand based from just that, there might be groooooounds to….." He trailed off, finishing the sentence with a neck-cutting motion using his left gloved hand.
Oh...
If it's like that, then he doesn't have anything to worry about. Compared to other scenarios this could have gotten to, this one's the easiest.
"Your suspicions are justified and I will not hold it against you." He said, turning away from the dandy lord and staring into space, "But if you somehow managed to find credible evidence of me being a danger to this household, I have every right to defend myself if denied a fair trial and instead met with the end of a blade, not that it would be the first time to happen." He sighed inwardly, a cynical light flaring in his eyes, "My people and I are immediately subjected to the sword quite often that we end up killing people in self-defense before we could explain ourselves."
"Oh," He had gathered the attention of nearly everyone present with his words, surprised at the morbid explanation, but the little archmage and the fey are at their own little world at the opposite end of the table, still enjoying each other's company without a care in the world, "And why is that the case?"
He was debating whether that was a stupid question or something else entirely, but he got the prompt to make things very clear to these people.
The metallic claws holding his dead hand pushed his chair back before he stood up straight, dwarfing the people seated with his height. Turning to face the dear girl, the dandy lord and the dear maidservants, he said, "Observe." Mother covered his face with all her 4 hands, a pair covering the mouth and the other covering the eyes.
With both his hands closed into fists at the level of his waist, pure swampy green energy brewed from the left hand while the right began to be clouded in a shade of black smoke, hiding his decaying fist in the shrouds. Mother slowly parted her hands from his face, revealing a pair of burning green eyes that looked widely into all within his sight and a parted mouth, revealing long canines and incisors replacing the impossibly white set of teeth that should have been there 10 seconds ago before, creating the image of a terrifying demon. His floating white hair, as if underwater, amplified the haunting visage he created.
From the appendages of Mother spreading to the side like a quad of wings and his bone-inlaid shoulders, the veil separating the worlds between the dead and living is set aside like a curtain, and the opening allowed a mesmerizing aura of green and blue to flare out behind him like a large bonfire. The images of moaning skulls and the shrill whistle in the air that seemed to come from nowhere did not allow the display to become a sight to behold but a sight to fear. From behind Roswaal and the maids, the sunlight seemed to have dimmed, as if it was hiding away from his presence, frightened of him, casting the dining room in the haunting twilight. And it is so cold, breath becoming visible as a small mist and spines beginning to feel the chill.
His robes, absorbing light amidst the display of power and blotting the entire area close to it with its unnatural form of all-encompassing black, it began to reveal a window to the void, presenting the wailing souls of the ones he subjected to the Dragon, suffering the consequences of their actions and wasted lives in the living world.
His spectacle did not only draw the trepidation and alarm it warranted but also defensive aggression. Emilia looked on, unmoving and frozen in fear. Roswaal sat stiffly in his extravagant seat, staring at his display with wide, unblinking eyes of blue and yellow. The maids revealed their true colors, their innocent façades broken to reveal a pair of kittens baring their hidden claws, a flail with a long chain on the little sister's grasps and an aura of lethal wind magic surrounding the elder sister. They each looked at him with a cold gaze, expecting him to make the first move that will herald violence, their cue to act.
Then, at the shock of everyone present in the room, the overbearing darkness of the room disappeared, as quickly as the sharp sound of snapping fingers. Light came back to illuminate the room from the windows and the magical lamps, the haunting atmosphere nothing more than a nightmare they had awaken from and the sounds of the moaning dead silenced as the veil of the afterlife was drawn to a close.
Emurdol stood with his right hand locked in Mother's grasp behind him while his left hand simply hung, an armored left hand hovering over it, as if he had not just presented himself as an abomination and ripped open the fabric of reality.
"This is why it's the case." Though his voice was as emotionless and low as always, it was powerful enough to break the silence and jolt Emilia and the maids in their place for the sudden arrival of sound, eliciting only an eye-blink the Lord of the Mansion as he continued, "We look like monsters, my people have been demonized into monsters, and therefore the Church have declared it law to put us down like the hellspawn we've been hunting down without question. If it weren't for the more open-minded individuals that were outside the Church's influence that had the sense to question my presence instead of outright killing me, I would have declared everyone my enemy despite the teachings of the Order that all humans Above-Ground are merely misguided and should not be executed in petty revenge."
Turning to face the table, Mother pulled his chair close as he sat down with a slumping sigh, relaxing himself against the seat, reducing himself from a potential threat into a man recovering from a split abdomen and a mana burn. "I have suffered and bled and lost to make sure my people will never suffer that prejudice ever again, and I will not waste my efforts by having a useless farce with all of you." He said in full finality, staring into space once again.
Emilia's sympathetic gaze is too blatantly obvious, even if he's not looking directly at her. The sensation of that look is all too familiar these days.
Roswaal stared at him for several seconds. With a cool wave of his hand, the maids lowered their weapons and stood back at attention on either side of him, their façade returning. "You and Lady Emilia will get along veeeeeeery well, Ser Emurdol." His drawl strangely had a grim tone to it.
Facing the dandy once again, he found a smile, "Why?"
The dandy lord held up his hands, "Sorry but it's not within my position to say. You will have to ask her for the certain details, if she is willing to share it with you."
…he's seeing the implications.
He turned to face the dear girl and he saw a down look in her face, giving him a short glance before looking away.
It seems there are more to this girl than he thinks. The closest conclusion he can be confident in is that she might be sharing what he and his people suffered. Could there be prejudice in being a half-breed? Wood elves had that kind of bigotry unlike the river elves. Whatever kind of half-elf this dear girl is, it's not clear which one. She's too….common, like a human child abruptly sent into the world, barely able to go through a proper childhood that Above-World little ones usually experience.
Then again, these are just theories. Even if he's confident in them, the better source is from the person in question. Maybe later, he'll ask.
Sighing loudly, diffusing the still-stiff situation as he began with a personable tone, "If I may ask." He looked at the little mage at the other end of the table, he looked at the dear girl, then looked back at the dandy before asking, "Who among you stands at the top of the hierarchy of this building? Hearing the Master of the Manor address Emilia as 'Lady' is quite unusual."
"Well, for the oooobvious reason." The dandy lord caught his drift and followed along, his voice now laced with its usual strange cheer. "It is within my ooooobligations to refer to someone of a higher position than me with all due respect."
He frowned in question, his brow furrowing further as he saw the dear girl shift uneasily. "Dear Girl, what is your position here?" He interrogated, boring holes to the back of her head. By standard, the Mansion's master is the one that stands above all, and to hear that Emilia stands above him is far more questionable than it looks.
The dear girl turned to him, her voice soft and unlike a boast, as if she doesn't know how to exert her answer properly, "I am currently the candidate for the 42nd Ruler for the Kingdom of Lugunica. And Margrave Roswaal is my benefactor."
….
…..…..
…..…..…..
"Forgive me if it's such a surprise to you but I haven't really intended to keep it a secret."
…..the Kingdom's ruler and his bloodline dead; the Royal Selection; Emilia's position as a candidate; and his presence here…..if this is some sort of conspiracy, he'd be damned if he's right.
His face may have been frozen in its shocked visage, but it belied the cunning flow of thoughts and possibilities that ran through his hand like a volley of arrows, each one piling together in the form of hypothesis that concludes to more than one outcome. There was nothing but opportunity ahead of him, he was sure of it. He was tempted to smile, his lip even trembled in his efforts to force it back. And he won the battle, allowing him to rise up from his chair, Mother clapping the jingle of reverence and bowed before the dear girl.
"For whatever I have said and done that might have offended you, I humbly ask for your forgiveness." As he bowed grandiosely, his arms crossed behind him while Mother had all her arms spread in a greeting fashion on either side of him, he smiled wickedly at the future that's coming for him. "Your Ladyship." He finished with a chuckle, exposing the notion that he said all that as a joke.
"Oh please. You don't have to act that way." It seemed the dear gi—no, her ladyship caught on to his tune, laughing at his display of exaggerated reverence, failing to catch the sarcasm. "But why did your other hands clap a strange rhythm?"
He chuckled some more before straightening himself, Mother holding his dead hand once again as he retook his seat, ignoring her stated question. "But still, I am honestly surprised that you are an heiress."
"You don't seem so taken aback by it, though…."
He curled his lip distastefully. This girl really doesn't remember much, does she? "Have you forgotten what I said, Dear Girl?" He asked, raising a pale eyebrow, "No matter what status you carry, whether poor on the streets or rich in this mansion, I'm treating you like the mortal you are to me, just like everybody else."
She pouted, then slowly began to smile faintly before taking out a familiar item and placed it on the table. "Remember this?"
It was the insignia, the same item that lead to everything wrong happening in that loot house and ending with him here. "It seems you recovered it."
"Yes." She nodded. "That girl, Felt gave it back to me in exchange for saving her Grandfather."
"It carries the symbol of the Kingdom of Lugunica, with the exaaaaaaggerated name: Kingdom of the Elder Dragon Lugunica. Fortress walls and weapons tend to bear this symbol in many places." Roswaal explained, "Even in this veeeery instance, the symbol is extraordinarily important." He turned to Emilia, sending what looked like a prompt through eye-contact before her ladyship flinching.
With a gulp, she supplied in a very strained voice, "It's a qualification for one to ascend to the throne. It is a point of reference if one is worthy of the Seat of Power."
…..what?
"Are you saying you lost something as important as this!?" He asked hoarsely, his gravely tone slipping out amidst his exasperation. "You're an heiress, aren't you!? How could you let this happen!? If you had actually lost this, your candidacy for the throne will be void!"
"It's scandalous to say I lost it! It was stolen from me!"
"That doesn't matter, you Stupid Girl!" He firmly pointed out, his dead hand struggling against Mother's grasp as his left hand gestured wildly in his words, "If I had known that it was that important, I would not have been wasting my time manipulating both you and Felt yesterday into fighting each other and instead helped you!"
"A king is someone who beeeeears the burden of a country." The dandy lord pointed out, amused at the happenings. "It would be nothing but preposterous if a candidate who will soon bear that burden is iiiiiiincapable of holding onto a tiny insignia. If you had lost it, then why would weeeeee entrust the future of the kingdom to yooooou?"
He blinked, taking in the dandy lord's words carefully before slumping back to his seat, kneading his forehead. All this is too much to take in. "Above-Worlders and your damn politics…" The problems idiots face with their narrow-minded systems, no wonder his City survived longer than anyone Above-World could ever hope to boast about, "….it should have been known to you that someone would have your right to the candidacy be denied, yes?"
Her ladyship looked down, "…yes."
He frowned deeply, "Knowing all this, it brings me the realization that the magnitude of my actions carry greater value than I initially thought. You, a candidate to the throne, could have died yesterday." He sent her the implication of his words through eye contact.
She caught it well, placing a hand to her chest as she spoke, "Yes. To me, you are someone I am greatly indebted to. You have saved my life, I would not be able to repay you properly for that." She turned to him, looking at him deeply in the eyes, "That's why, you can ask me for anything. And as long as it's within my ability, I will do so. Or rather, I will ensure that it is done, anything it will be of equal value to what you have done for me."
…..this girl is firm in her position, indebted to him wholeheartedly and she's willing to do so, without question, even when he's the one being rewarded. More than most would fear owing him, but this girl is among the opposites. She's genuinely inclined to reward him.
And that makes him very happy.
Hmph, "Remember the saying?"
She smiled playfully, "Tongue-tied? Picky?"
"Yes." He answered, shaking his head in amusement. He patted her shoulder, not eliciting a flinch from her this time. Seems she got used to it, "Give me time to think about it."
She nodded, "Of course. Just tell me when you decided upon it and I'll do my best to grant it." He traced a finger across her silky white hair in appreciation.
"Myyyyyy, we seem to be interfering in the moment. Should we leave you two in private?" The dandy teased, smiling cheekily at the two.
"Instead of doing that," He set aside his amused mood, "Answer my question: at what position do you carry to be able to back the Dear Girl's candidacy?"
"Well, if you muuuust know, not that I had any intention to conceal it." The dandy held his chin thoughtfully, "I guess you can say that I am the loooord of the outer regions. But the better description of my role in this kingdom is as…..the Court Magician, perhaps?"
His eyes immediately widened, suddenly finding his answers for the questions he had earlier upon meeting this clown of an archmage, "So that explains the potency of your mana…the Kingdom's personal magician, huh…."
"That's right, he's also the greatest magician of the entire kingdom." The dear girl added, "There is no one who could rival him."
He nodded in understanding. If there's anything he learned from Above-World sorcerers, they are quite eccentric by the standards of common folk and warriors. This archmage clearly fits the list. The little archmage might have found her way to it as well but he's still uncertain in its validation.
"As I were saying:" The lord brought back the earlier conversation, "I support Lady Emilia's candidacy for the throne, as her patron and benefactor. It will be gooooood for her image."
He turned to the future queen: a naïve little half-elf girl with rare white hair. Then he turned back to the lord: a clown with the most grating inflexion he ever heard in his life.
He chuckled.
"Whaaat's so funny?" The latter asked.
He waved the question off, deeming his thoughts as too irrelevant to be said out loud. A strange man supporting a childish girl, it's a supreme contradiction. It was quite amusing to imagine. Then his amusement was suddenly gone, a firm grimace covering his visage as he eyed Roswaal critically.
This has been the question that's been bugging him lately, "But I have a question: why is Emilia, a candidate to the throne, walking around in public all on her own yesterday? I find that too risky."
"Oh, it woooould not be the first incident. However, I thought Ram was to be with her."
The Fair Maid in question, Ram, was wearing the exact same hairstyle as her little sister, literally making them look exactly alike in an attempt to hide from blame. It would have been convincing, had her hair color and eyes been blue.
He stared flatly at the servant, wondering how the hell did her resourcefulness took her anywhere in this life.
"I-it's not Ram's fault…" Her ladyship nervously defended, "My curiosity got the better of me when I was with her yesterday….."
He stared at her, eyes narrowed.
"….and I ended up separating from her in the process…."
Oh for the love of...!
He slammed his fist on the table and the stupid girl jumped as well as the plates, cups and utensils, yelping in surprise at his sudden movements. He groaned mournfully, kneading his forehead with his pale hand, now red from the impact. "You stupid little girl….why did I even help you?" He shouldn't have helped her. He should've just left things as it is and allowed the stupid girl to suffer for her stupidity. He was so wrong, this girl's one of the idiots of this level of the earth.
He ignored her sulking, instead staring at the dandy's mismatched eyes, "Incompetence, Lord Mathers….this puts into question your trustworthiness as her patron. Your employee's incompetence would have sullied your very name as a noble."
He did not miss the slight twitch in the Fair Maid's eyes. The Dear Maid isn't hiding that glare either. Quite audacious servants the dandy lord have employed in his home.
He would not be so quick as to point the blame to the Master, as it is very narrow-minded to hold the actual cause of the matter responsible instead of the element but as he is now stands Above-Ground, he might as well adapt to their mindset and their customs. Plus, his wits in matters like this have worked with him well for so long.
"….you dooo have a point." The dandy agreed with a low tone, "Ram's failure in supervising Lady Emilia is to some extent my failure as well. Buuuut….what are you trying to imply, Ser Emurdol?"
"Simply put, Lord Mathers: I saved your ass." His blunt answer drew the shock of the stupid girl and the hostile looks from the maidservants, even more from the fair maid. "Unwittingly at that. The Fair Maid's incompetence is showing by her lack of presence when Emilia was mugged, and later attacked. That could be passed off as uncontrollable circumstances but that's not the point. A maid's mistake falls to the Master, and that mistake led to the loss of the insignia. And if I haven't been there, Emilia's life would have been lost as well. Due to my actions, no word of your error will ever reach the public, the responsibility of losing the life of your charge will not befall you, and this Stupid Girl remained a candidate to the throne." His eyes flashed green, "You owe me more than Emilia could."
The lord only chuckled lowly, looking at him with a cool look, "I can see the logic in your words, as Lady Emilia's life exceeds my own personal fortune and it would be more than appropriate for me to pay whatever is needed to cover up my mistakes." His lips tugged slightly, "Nooooow, what is it you desire….?"
He suddenly stood up from his chair, staring down the dandy for the audacity he had of bribing a Priest of the Serpent. "Do not assume such petty actions to be able to silence me." He pointed out coldly. "The Order of the Serpent don't care for material things, and even if I were to tell you of my desires, you would not be able to give it to me."
Emilia looked worriedly between the two men, a battle of willpower ensuing through their hardened stares. "Then what iiiiiis it you desire? As you might know, I cannot allow my errors to reach the public. And I will do what I must, if my conscience prevents me from resorting to the simple solution, which is silencing you. Nooooow, tell me what is it you desire?"
He noticed the euphemism to indicate a death sentence, and he felt the antagonism in his heart spark for the slightest moment before it disappeared under his iron will. Emurdol then sighed, slumping back to his seat, "But still….I wouldn't know what I would have from you as a reward…."
Emilia released a big sigh of relief, glad that the situation didn't end in a violent confrontation, "Did you get indecisive again?" She asked.
Hmph, "Embarrassingly." He admitted, which drew a nervous giggle from her and a slight smile from the dandy. He turned to the latter, a passive light in his eyes as he spoke with a polite tone, "Will you allow me 5 days in order for me to think over a fitting reward? And additionally," He gently took Emilia's hand and raised it up for all to see. "She can help me by providing choices."
"Re-really?" She asked, surprised for her sudden involvement, "You want my help?"
He nodded, serious as he turned back to the lord, "Also, I seek knowledge. As much this place is Kingdom is as anomalous as it is foreign to me, my existence is equally as anomalous to all of you." Compromise. That has been the only way things between him and other influential people could deal with things peacefully without someone getting their insides ripped out the next morning, "Within my given 5 days, I will learn as much as I can about this Kingdom and come upon a fitting reward to benefit me in the long term. I cannot imagine its guaranteed success, but I intend to think ahead. And as I do so under your close-watch all throughout, you can verify my sudden presence's trustworthiness within the bounds of your manor and no longer having to go through intensive measures to do so when I'm far away from it."
Roswaal leaned back against extravagant throne, the fair maid and the dear maid on either side of him as always, staring cautiously and calculatingly at him, humming at the given request before giving a nod, "I see no prooooblem with that, and as you contemplate your choices with Lady Emilia, you are weeeeelcome to take lodgings in this Manor during your requested five days. You may treat this house as if it were your own and my cuuuuuute servants will be at your disposal as well." He interlocked his gloved hands below his chin, "But when you finally come to a conclusion, come seeeeee me and I'll grant you your wish, Ser Emurdol."
He nodded his genuine thanks. He'll make sure to change his attitude the next time he and Lord Mathers talk to each other. "I am sincerely grateful, Lord Mathers. In exchange, I'll give you something to be alert of while I'm here: sudden loud noises, some shifts in the air's mana, strange smells and my presence around the premises during the dark evenings. Some of my habits are your taboos, after all."
"Taboos?" The dear girl parroted in question, unsettled, "L-like what?"
He turned a cryptic smile to her, already liking the future events this knowledge will lead to, "You'll see. Telling you would be tiring."
"Just one, please?" She begged, her hands together in front of her.
Strangely, he was compelled to comply. "Well, I am awake and asleep at hours where it would be unorthodox to you people. Some other times, I would be walking around, touching the soil, speaking with the Spirits or simply experimenting. At times when I am not doing any of those, I would be asleep."
"So…" Emilia tried to comprehend the meaning in his words.
"Yes, go on." He encouraged.
"You stay awake at night and sleep during the day?"
Mother's four metallic arms clapped in applause for the answer.
She wore a hopeful look, "Was I correct!?"
"Not completely." Even if it was technically correct. He told Mother to go back to being idle and holding his dead hand before saying, "At times, yes, I will retire during the day. But actually, I have the choice whether to sleep or not, no matter the time of day."
"What!? No, you have to sleep once a day. It's bad for your health otherwise!"
He cleared his throat loudly, "Do be reminded that I lived Underground for more than half of my life. We have no way of knowing whether the sun or the moon is up. Whatever cycle you Above-Worlders follow does not apply to me."
"Then what cycle dooo you follow?" Lord Mathers asked.
"My people and I don't have a sleeping cycle, Lord Mathers. We sleep whenever we like." He answered simply, tugging a small strand of his white locks with his left hand while Mother's front left did the same. "Though we are human just like all of you, our bodies are forged differently. We can last for as long 3 days compared to your 16 hours without losing our cognitive functions, but only at that. If we try to exceed that amount of time, we will get irritable, lose our ability to think rationally and degrade our mana. At the point of mana burn, we will lose our consciousness and likely never wake up."
"But you will sleep when the time comes, yes?"
This girl's worries really put him off. It was quite unfamiliar. His made sure to keep his voice from giving it away, "I will. Don't you worry, Your Ladyship." He assured in a soft tone, though with an undertone of mockery. Something Emilia didn't notice, again. "Even at the time of battle, I look after my body very carefully. I am a frail man, after all."
"Frail? I doubt that." Emilia told, "Yesterday, when you fought that horrible woman, you fought unlike anything I have seen before, as if Death itself stood by your side and you suffer punishment without even flinching. You're far from frail. You're fearsome."
He chuckled, feeling more than proud for the description he earned from the dear girl. "That may be so, but…." He tapped the ribcage enclosing his chest, reminding the girl that he actually had bizarre ornaments worn on his body. "…I do not wear this just for intimidation purposes and protection. There is more to the reason why I am commonly treated like an Old Man besides appearing like so, despite my annoyance to such."
He's not like the regular Priest of the Serpent. They usually don't suffer a poison in their body that's continually shortening his lifespan little by little.
"Well, that's soooomething to acknowledge but do not worry, Ser Emurdol." Lord Mathers told in assurance, "I can see the youth in your eyes very clearly. You're likely not paaaaaast your 20th turn, aren't you?"
"I'm at my 21st actually," He corrected, "I am still youthful as such."
"Oh, Ser Emurdol." The dear girl called.
"Hm?"
"Ram and Rem would like to introduce themselves." She gestured to the dear maidservants approaching him. As they reached his distance, they dipped in a curtsy in perfect unison.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ser." The Dear Maid started, "I am Rem, the chief maid of this household. Do be kind to me."
"Nice to meet you, Ser." The Fair Maid followed after, "I am Ram, the maid in Lord Roswaal's manor. Don't be hard on me."
He was amused once again, finding their differing choice of words despite their identical marks really entertaining, but he didn't fail to acknowledge them. Standing up from his seat, with Mother clapping once using her front arms to convey her silent greetings, he inclined his head to them, "Well met. Though you are at my disposal, do continue working as if I'm not here. I can clean after myself."
"Rem understands. But if you ever need anything, simply call for Dear Sister and she will be there to attend to you."
"Ram understands. But if you plan to revoke your previous statement, just call for Rem and she will clean after your mess."
He chuckled. Oh he loves the Fair Maid. His time here will be short but he's very sure that it'll be fun together with her around.
"Aaaah, a person who's niiiice to the waitress." Roswaal said dreamily, looking out into space, "They could not have asked for a better guest, can they?"
"I hope you become good friends, Ser Emurdol!" The dear girl cheered.
~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~
"Must you follow me?" He questioned, addressing the Fair Maid following after him without turning around as he walked to the room where his belongings are located. When he looked over his shoulder, he was surprised that the Dear Maid is following as well. "Must you two follow me? You did say that you'll attend to me once I call for either of you."
"We just wanted to make sure you know where you're going." The Dear Maid started.
"You might just end up wandering into Lord Roswaal's private study and Ram might have to throw you out before that happens." The Fair Maid finished.
He smiled. If this isn't a roundabout way of watching his movements, he'll be really surprised, "I am just going back to my borrowed quarters. But before that, I will have to retrieve my bag."
"Then Rem will get them for you."
"Ram will follow you, just to make sure you picked the right room."
Too many giveaways...too many. They are definitely monitoring his movements.
He stopped walking, turning a curious eye to the Dear Maid, regarding her little arms and legs. If she could carry his pack, then he would be genuinely surprised. "If you can carry a heavy bag of bone dust that's as heavy as a sack of rice without spilling its contents, be my guest."
"Okay, Rem will do her best." To his shock, the Dear Maid nodded to his consent and set off in a brisk pace past him.
"Hm…." He frowned as he watched the girl head off, then he lightly shook his head before headed onwards to his room, with the Fair Maid following behind him.
After going through the unnecessarily long hallway, with no conversation exchanged between him and the Fair Maid, he saw his room's door coming close. With Mother's front right hand, she opened the door for him—
—and he was graced with the sight of a little one cuddling lovingly with a tiny kitten on a bed inside a library.
"Aaah~ Bubby, you're so wonderful! Your fur is just fantastic—"
Her affection-drunk squeals were silenced as she noticed the disturbing person standing outside the open door, specifically him. She was as still as a statue, the object of her affections waving awkwardly in her little hands.
He wore a shit-eating grin, "Am I interrupting something?"
"Yes, now would you leave!?" The dignified little archmage was apparently too embarrassed to be seen in such a state. With a palm thrown to his direction, an invisible force threw him away from the door as it slammed shut and he flew straight towards the wall.
He would have smashed his head against it, but Mother's 4 arms and legs instantly took independent action and smoothly used the momentum sending him flying to glide him upwards to the ceiling, appendages skittering on the surface of the wall until he flipped in the air and landed with a thump back to the floors. His own arms were crossed over his chest the entire time, not obstructing her in any way.
Smoothing his silver hair back while Mother took his dead right hand back behind him, he wore an amused smile as he righted his posture, "My, what a rambunctious little archmage."
"That was the Door Crossing." The Fair Maid informed, not too dumbfounded by the scene that just happened in front of her. "It is used to hide her domain upon any door found within the mansion. Once Lady Beatrice resets the location to another door, it will be impossible to find her unless you try each one."
And he thought he broke his streak of never failing to retrace his steps, thank the Dragon that wasn't the case. Additionally, it shouldn't be possible to renovate a guest room into a library that quickly unless they used magic. It seems his suspicions were correct, as halfhearted as he thought of it at first, "So the original guest room I used will be there once I open it, hm?" He wondered, thinking over the practical uses of that 'Door Crossing' spell.
Then he remembered what he did, prior to breakfast.
…..His shit-eating grin grew even wider.
With a purpose, he opened the same door with his able left hand, greeted with the sight of the same library with the same little archmage with the same cat once again. The silver-haired girl's presence was unusual, however. The latter likely found the secret library with her own room door. Still, he played along, "Hello."
His overly-polite greetings jolted the dear girl several inches up to the air along with a cute little yelp before she turned around and noticed him behind her, "Ser Emurdol!?"
"How did you two know the right door?" The little archmage asked heatedly, crushing Puck to her chest.
"Is there a little merrymaking going on in this room? Why was I not informed?" He inquired jokingly as he entered, loving just how flustered her little face was.
"There is no merrymaking and nobody is allowed to enter the Forbidden Archive so casually!" Goodness, the kind of volume she's using in a library of all places. "Now you two get out!"
He snickered cruelly before gliding back to the door and closing it, back to the hallway with the Fair Maid beside him. Waiting two seconds, he opened the door again with a grandiose shout, "I HAVE RETURNED!" It was enough to echo throughout the mansion, and likely break the eardrums of nearby people.
And as he predicted, the dear girl was about to exit the library herself before he entered and she looked like she got blasted by a fireball spell from his dramatic entrance as she fell on her backside, the shocked look on her face multiplying from his sudden arrival and shouting. "S-Ser Emurdol! Don't just barge in shouting like that! You surprised me!"
"How!?" And he milked the sight: Beatrice was outraged as she knelt on her bed, "Just how are you solving the Door Crossing Riddle so easily!?"
He closed the door again instead of answering.
Running to the next guest room door, he twisted the knob and flatly stared at the shocked look on Beatrice's face, speaking in a monotone voice, "I thought this room was found in…" He pointed to the left, the location of the same door he used twice to enter the library, "….that door, next to this."
"What!?" She was surprised once again, "The spell should have situated the Forbidden Archives to the right wing of the mansion! Ho-how…."
"Did you forget?" He asked, then paused to hold out a hand to the dear girl who's still on the floor. After lifting her up to her feet, he returned to the little archmage, "I shared with you my mana, and I told you to use your spells carefully next time." He pointed at the ground, "This is not being 'careful', mind you."
"U-um," The dear girl tried to get in the conversation, "What is going on between you two?"
"Her Door Crossing spell is affecting every door in this manor." He answered, nearly breaking out laughing at the possible scenarios this could've led to if he hadn't told her of it before his borrowed mana runs out.
"That's actually kinda fancy. Your mana's really that potent, Emurdol?" Puck asked from the little archmage's embrace.
"All of my people do, actually." He corrected simply, "We just refrain from using our unique mana on basic and mundane spells, especially this. It's too wasteful." He turned to Beatrice, more than pleased to see the extremely vexed look on her face for having her dimension-warping spell be regarded as low-grade. "If you like, I can drain it away from you."
"Just do it!" She shouted, already reaching her breaking point, "Do it so Betty will not have to pause her moment with Bubby by executing a spell just to squeeze it out and stop all these rude interruptions!"
Typical archmage.
"Then allow me." Looking deeply into Beatrice's unique pupils containing butterflies, he held out a hand to her and pulled with his hand at the air. He repeated the gesture, pawing at something that wasn't seen, but it was surely felt.
"Mana drain…" The dear girl said in awe beside him, quick to figure out what he was doing with the strange feeling in the air, "So you know how to do it?"
"It's a spell the Order of the Serpent must learn before they leave the Underground City." He informed, not breaking the mana drain as the energy was slowly becoming visible in the form of a pale-blue trail in the air, exiting from the little archmage's form, through the space between them both and into his pale clawing hand, "Mana elixers aren't that easy to find."
"Your Order must have high standards." Beatrice commented, "Only Betty and Bubby are capable of doing so, not even Roswaal knows how to execute it."
"More like you Above-Worlders are just not opportunistic." With a flick of his wrist as soon the pale blue trail that was slowly gaining a new color of red, indicating that it was Beatrice's mana now getting siphoned, the draining spell was cut off.
Leveling his left hand to his chest, he let a ball of his unique energy brew from his fingers and atop his palm, slightly draining a bit of mana from the atmosphere, as well as the other people present. "Learn this and you will be safe than sorry." With a fist, the spell was gone. He bowed, "Glad to be of service, Archmage Beatrice." The undertone of mockery was still there. Judging by the sour look on her face, she noticed.
Turning around, he pulled the dear girl along by her arm, "Come on, let's give the two their privacy."
"O-okay."
As they went past the doorway, the portal instantly slammed shut behind the dear girl's back, surprising her once again. By the Dragon, she's jumpy.
Going back to the door, he twisted the knob, braced for impact, and found an empty, unused guest room.
"Progress." He commented before closing the door and inclining his head to Emilia, "Your Ladyship." Still mocking, still unnoticed. Then he turned around and headed back to his borrowed quarters.
"Ser Emurdol." She reflexively replied, bowing in turn, then realizing what term he used on her, "You could just call me Emilia, you know!"
"I'm terribly sorry, I cannot hear you!" He yelled out, Mother covering his ears with her metallic hands as he entered his room and closed the door behind him.
"Now," He began, his voice as silent as the air as he looked over the room, considering the placement, the available space and comparing it to the arrangement he had in mind. This might take a while, but then again, he isn't staying long anyway. He'll work with simple, like he always did.
Deciding to start in a step by step manner, Mother rubbed her front hands before his chest in preparation for the task at hand before he verbalized the start, "Let's do some manual labor."
Moving the nightstands to the back wall first, he then moved the large bed that could fit 7 people together towards the corner, using Mother's entire frame to lift the heavy thing. With the bones of stone trolls and their endurance amplified by his magic, it took little time. One chair close to the bed and the other towards the back wall together with the 2 nightstands, he put the two furniture together to form a large table.
"Inadequate…" He decided, a small frown crossing his features. Then he shook his head, "…then again, I am not staying long anyway."
"Have you finished customizing this room to your liking?" The Fair Maid asked behind him.
"I was wondering when will you begin speaking." She's been silent throughout his work, and if she helped, she only pulled the carpet underneath the bed out before he moved it. "But yes, I'm finished."
"Rem brought you your belongings, Ser." A soft voice informed from the door, gathering his attention to the Dear Maid as she held the dark bag in her arms, not at all weighed down by the dust and organs inside it. Not even the plate armor and gauntlets atop it seemed to bother her, "Your weapons as well." She nodded to the holster containing his two krises looped around her arm.
"Good work." Mother's ribcage opened up and his body slumped forward to the table, supporting himself with his only left hand. Even if his arms weren't the ones lifting objects, his body is still used as leverage. It was the norm for his creations to be doing all the work for him and Mother, but he lacked the inclination to create minions. "Bring it here."
She brought it over and Mother secured him with her bones again before she took it off Rem's hands and laid it atop of the improvised table, his armor and holstered weapons placed beside it. Opening the top, the clusters of bone dust and fragments are revealed, though only half remained, used up from yesterday's battle. Closing the flap, he opened the many pockets to see if any of the containers were broken. None were. Good.
He pulled them out one by one and set them on the table. One potion contained swirling green liquid. A square-shaped container of the same size contained bubbling red liquid. A round vial of yellow-orange liquid, its contents looking like it was on fire. The last one, a large vial of purple liquid, was held in his left hand, a metallic hand twisting the stopper before he took a whiff of it.
"Aaaaah…" Always so refreshing, the scent of the all-powerful rejuvenation elixir. He set it down next to the others.
"What are those vials?" The Dear Maid asked.
"What is that purple liquid?" The Fair Maid asked.
"Nothing special. Merely duplicates of volatile liquids in my region. They either serve as weapons or for experimental purposes." He tapped the rejuvenation elixir with his fingernail, "This one is an original mixture, however. I am still trying replicate it. And it has been 2 years already." Whoever knew the recipe, he wished he could find them. It was bad enough that he could only find one full rejuvenation elixir when he managed to break into the vault of a mage he killed. The bastard knew the recipe and he blew his body to pieces before he could find out. "Trial and error hasn't been effective, but I did manage to replicate a full healing elixir. Only a matter of time before I succeed."
"Healing elixir?" The Dear Maid repeated in question.
"Does it heal wounds the same way healing magic does?" The Fair Maid asked.
There's no use of alchemy to replicate the magical utility in this world?
"It can heal fatal wounds, yes." He nodded, searching through the other pockets to pull out the other containers that were not liquid-based, and are bound to draw very negative reactions. "It can put severed limbs back together as well. But there's no saving decapitation or a heart that stopped beating. Cross those borders and your beyond the point of saving."
A vial containing the claw and tooth of a storm viper. A small jar containing the half of a brain of a magi-turned-demon. A man's head inside a bottle, preserved perfectly as his empty eyes stared at the maidservants.
"What is that?"
"What is that?"
There goes the expected question containing surprise and shock.
"This man…." He held the neck of the bottle, sloshing the preserving liquid inside and making the head roll uncontrollably from within before he set it down and pulled out the other jars from the bag. "….was a mass-murderer who slaughtered entire villages and raised them as zombies. He's been the leading cause of many plagues and destroyed villages for a long time. I was sent to kill him and I kept his pathetic head as a trophy."
"How horrible."
"How cruel."
"Whether those words are for him or for me, it doesn't matter." He told them, finally pulling out the last one, a square jar containing 5 eyeballs and set it on the table. "It's a compliment, anyway. But this man was evil, his actions are far more cruel and horrible than my standards would allow."
And no one could simply be labeled evil, especially when Pandemonium originally housed people guilty of evil before.
Concentrating lightly, he raised his left hand, level to his head with the palm facing upwards. It may look like a nonsensical gesture but in reality, he was slipping his hand into the unknown realm and, in a display similar to a sleight of hand trick, his dark curving sickle suddenly appeared in his left hand as if it was already there.
"Oh." The Dear Maid wore a surprise look, though a lot more subdued than it should for someone seeing it for the first time. "You can do it as well?"
"Yes, indeed." He remembered the flail she drew out when he exerted power at the dinner table just to make them know what he is. There was no way she could hide that weapon in her person unless she could do the same thing he can. "And I learned merely by observing. I've met too many magi." And he pissed them all off, with only a few of them being able to suffer his presence for so long without incinerating him with their worst spells.
And those sorcerers really thought they could hide their magic from him, always pulling out whatever object they had in mind out of nowhere, even though it would have been impossible for an 8 foot tall staff to be hidden inside one's robes.
To a Priest of the Serpent, opening the veil to the Spirit Realm is quite trivial. Maintaining a certain size of that opening is actually cumbersome, comparable to holding back a riotous crowd from entering a door all by yourself and only allowing them to come one at a time instead of all at once. It requires supreme force of will and a lot of mana, both of which he got covered in his own way. The truly impossible task was trying not to break into the Spirit Realm but the Realm in-between the Physical Realm and the Spirit Realm. The Void, he dubbed it. The same place magi have been using as their bottomless storage container. It required surgical precision and control, something he had developed over a year to meet its demands.
He is still inexperienced in the practice, being able to maintain a tiny opening but it was large enough to let his sickles and his preserving jars pass through. The less you have in your person, the better your mobility in case a battle comes down upon you unexpectedly.
"It's useful in case I wish to hide my currency in a place no one could easily pilfer or find." He reached behind the Dear Maid and pulled out the second sickle from 'her' back. "And other things as well, including spare clothes." Placing the sickle on the table along with the other, he reached behind the Fair Maid and pulled out a medium-sized jar that contained a shriveled heart floating in green liquid.
"How many more pieces of people have you kept, Ser?" She asked, crossing her arms as she regarded the withered organ distastefully.
"Not just humans, Fair Maid." He watched her reactions and found even more distaste instead of shock. Disappointing. He wanted to see more fright. "Some other beings simply have the bad luck of earning my interest or my ire. But believe me: when I kill something or someone…" He shook the jar, gauging the movements of the green liquid. "…they asked for it, especially those who try to kill me without a good reason." He regarded the contents calculatingly, eyeing every detail very carefully, including the state of the jar.
Remembering his notes, he found the resemblance perfectly matched, making him nod in affirmably. "Hm. It seems the siphoning is complete. The fluids already lost its viscosity and the heart stopped beating. This is it. If you'll excuse me….." He clutched the jar tightly to his chest and Mother's front arms grabbed around the lid, trying to twist it off.
Only to twist the jar along instead. Grumbling, he adjusted his grip around the container and Mother grasped the lid, tightly securing her metallic fingers around the edges before twisting forcefully. Only to fail as the container was twisted once again. He growled frustratingly. The lid was actually screwed tightly enough that the metallic arms, strong enough to crush bones itself, weren't able to get even a single inch of a twist, Even when all four arms amassed together to assist, it yielded no good result.
"Ser, if I may…." Mother stopped twisting the lid, he stared incredulously at the Dear Maid, who offered to open it for him.
Before he was about to question how such little arms would be able to open something even Mother can't, the latter already moved against his wishes and offered the jar to Rem.
"Mother…!" He hissed in a reprimanding tone, only for his emerald eyes to widen in shock.
The lid was easily twisted off from the lip of the jar, needing only half a second of effort before the satisfying pop sound of release met his ears.
Then he watched as Rem's face become green, the abominable odor inside blasting upwards to her face thanks to the new entryway she opened, forcing her to shove the jar back into his and Mother's hands before she ran to the bathroom, likely to vomit.
It took a second before the smell reached Ram's nose, making her eyes widen and instantly backed a good distance away from him while covering her nose with her sleeve. From the opposite wall. "You disgusting man…..! Why do you carry such an atrocious thing close to you….!?"
He may be the only one not suffering visible discomfort from the shittiest smell in existence but even he can admit that the smell is very brutal. Instead of laughing, he sympathized her plight, "Do forgive me. I had remembered from my research that its complete stage will only be indicated if a horrid smell permeates off it. It seems I failed to warn you both as well. Once again, I beg your pardon."
"So you spend much of your leisure time experimenting with things that smell like that…!? Ram fears the lifestyle you lead, Ser….!" She shuddered, pink eyes still wide as she pressed herself even further to the wall, as if it will save her from the disgusting smell in the room. "I don't think I will bring myself to clean up after you….!"
He chuckled lightly, "I can't blame you. But do not worry, I will clean after myself." He looked down through the lip of the jar, regarding the dead organ inside. Mother fished it out, letting it drip into the container before holding it beside him. "Well….as they say, bottoms up."
And he proceeded to drink the murky green liquid inside the jar.
If Ram had been doing well in holding the contents of her stomach in, she finally lost the battle as the horror that graced her eyes crumbled her resolve, shading her face in the sickest color of green and she took off to the bathroom, joining her dear little sister in her sickfest.
The fact that he was staring at her the entire time indicated that he fully intended for that reaction to happen instead of doing it out of sight, sparing her from ever having the sight ingrained to her memory. Tilting the jar carefully, he made sure to drink it all in one go, making sure he does not allow even a single drop to spill.
It took a whole minute before the jar was empty and he exploded in a fit of breath, trying to regain his precious oxygen. Mother quickly started punching his cheeks harshly, hard enough to bruise and make him bleed in the inside of his mouth, including his sides with her back arms, making sure he doesn't regurgitate the most disgusting liquid he just swallowed, otherwise his efforts will be for nothing.
He had drank worse, and likely the elders of the Underground City had as well, but this one may have taken the top as the worse of the worst extracts he had ever swallowed! It was monstrous.
The extracts from the heart of the Murky Pool Leviathan were capable of increasing the potency of his mana, his immunity, fortitude and it might be able to purge small—no, large quantities of the poison in his system, sparing him from keeling over before he could reach his 30th turn. With this amount, he might be able to reach his 50th, maybe 65th turn. His spells will not be so costly anymore as well, maybe his bone creations will become even more durable just like Mother's. It's definitely worth it.
Then again, it still tastes fucking disgusting. His sides and cheeks hurt as well. Mother did a very good job in keeping him from joining the twin sisters in their suffering.
Something wet and slimy is placed in his left hand. Looking down, he saw that Mother had given him the shriveled heart.
Oh great. This is the worst part.
Having no choice, he steeled his resolve, drew the organ to his mouth and bit a large chunk from it instead of a small one, just so he could spare himself from Mother forcing it down his throat just like she did last time with the liver of a Great Bull that was overfed with too much mana.
As expected, "It tastes like shit…." He muttered before swallowing what he didn't chew and taking another large chunk. Whoever wrote those notes clearly haven't done the last step. Tasteless they said, it will be quick they said.
With a fierce frown and a violent glow in his eyes, he said in a dark and gravelly voice, "What a load of bullshit…..!" He took an enormous bite from the shitty organ, leaving half of it remaining.
And the dear maidservants are still vomiting in the bathroom, the sound of flushing and rushing water slightly muffling their retching sounds.
~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~
He knocked timidly on Emilia's room door. Hiding his left hand, spending just a little bit of his energy to manipulate the horrid smell he was permeating off himself thanks to that shitty-jar until he become scentless, he awaited her voice to speak up.
"Oh? Um, who is it?"
"It's your savior." He answered, lightly raising his voice so he could be heard. "Pardon for intruding in your studies but I am in slight need of assistance."
"Assistance?" She parroted questioningly, "Why? Did you need something?" Her voice slowly became closer, and as she opened the door, regarded his current state, her face immediately twisted into worry. "Oh my goodness, Ser Emurdol! What happened to you!?"
If lacking context, he might have looked like he was pulled into an alley and was beaten senseless. His cheeks were bruising, his left eye was squinting slightly just to stay open and Mother's been patting the side she savaged the most very gently, as if apologizing in a nonverbal manner.
"Would you heal me again please?" He requested, his voice as even as always, as if his current state doesn't affect his mood. "There was a bit of an incident when I was dabbling with my belongings."
"What incident!?" She asked, still worried as she pulled him inside by Mother's front left arm, "Come and sit down! Goodness, what could have done this!? How did you get so beaten up!?"
"Do not be so worked up," He told as he was led to a chair in front of her study desk, "This is not outside the norm of my daily life." Really not out of the ordinary. As a Priest of the Serpent, someone is always trying to kill you. And apparently in his case, Mother is one of them.
He tilted his head so the dear girl could have better access to his cheek, which she took and began healing the damages. He sighed contently. He didn't speak until his face was back to its original state, pale and wrinkled. The image of a senior that carried the spirit of a youth in his green eyes. "She beat me black and blue." He informed simply before she could ask, gesturing to Mother's metallic arms, painful-looking studs built in the knuckles that had the inclination to puncture aside from break. The punishment she gave him was merciful compared to the ones she gave to people who had the audacity of back-stabbing her son. "I was drinking a horrid extract and she had to make sure I did not vomit it out." He lifted up the hem of his light-eating robes, showing the sides of his waist that was beginning to purple amongst the pale flesh.
She gasped at the sight before she placed her healing hands against it, beginning to glow a pale blue, "By beating you up?" She asked incredulously.
"Covering my mouth won't be enough." He said pointedly, taking slow and even breaths as the wonderful sensation of warmth began to spread over his abdomen, healing the bruises away. "Giving my mind something to think about instead of the disgusting taste is far more effective, specifically pain. It was by consent so all is well." As soon as the warmth was gone, he let out a content sigh of relief before standing up. "Thank you once again. That was exactly what I needed." He said genuinely, inclining his head gratefully before heading for the door.
"You're welcome. A-ah, wait!"
He stopped, turning to look over his shoulder, "Yes?"
She was silent, trying to figure out her words for a moment, then found them as she said in a sincere tone, "Be careful, okay? I just don't want you to get hurt. You already got yourself fatally injured by protecting me, you even killed your hand for me, so please…don't hurt yourself anymore."
…..
…..…..
…..…..…..
He was very glad that the Order taught him to hide his emotions well, because he was very surprised at how REAL her concern was. He knew very little people who had worried over him in the most human-like way possible, not because he was useful, not because keeping him alive had merit, but because he was hurt.
He was injured, therefore Emilia was worried. Emilia was worried, because he was hurt. That's about it, there's no other reason behind her actions. Nothing more, nothing less. Just pure concern.
He smiled, a smile that was full of his elated mood. A genuine smile. It seemed he was right to trust the dear girl aside from the fay.
He turned to face her fully, then Mother clapped the jingle of gratitude before setting himself down to one knee and waved his hand grandiosely, giving more than the appropriate amount of his unique mana to the dear girl. He watched as she felt the sensations of vigor roll across her body, barely able to contain the rush of energy filling her mind before she held her composure back in an amazing display of willpower.
This girl really is interesting.
"Wh-what was that?" She asked, her tone slightly high-pitched as her state of mind is still in a state of robust enthusiasm. She even fiddled with her hands erratically without stopping. "I feel like I could run around the mansion and not be fatigued….! What did you do to me…!?"
Hmph. He rose to his feet before answering, "That was a Thank You." Heading for the door, he left her something to remember before he closed the door gently. "Use it well and study hard, I will cheer you on from the shadows."
And with that, he left Emilia's room and headed back for his own.
Now to get rid of the Taint that's been clouding him ever since coming to this world. It was an anomaly in of itself. He wasn't sure how he got it, he wasn't sure how it was permeating out of him, and he couldn't banish it. Something that he thought was impossible. It's a bit unnerving that no one was particularly bothered by it, especially during breakfast.