AN: Hey. Wanted to just post this one and get it out with. I have not been well lately, especially thanks to the covid situation: work and other issues, health and etc. They have not been easy on me. So, I decided to move this story from semi-hiatus to a permanent hiatus- with a potential drop.
Memory issues lately have hampered quite a few things, especially with where I was going with this story and writing. The entire plot of this story and what I can remember from the anime is getting hard to recall. And the pieces I have are not so easy to reconnect. So I decided to just send out whatever I have written a few months ago and just post it out. Maybe it will come to me. Maybe not.
P.S: Thanks for all the past reviews in the last chapter and those before it. And the criticisms as well.
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This year is not going well, Osmond thought. He sat behind his desk, the soft, luxurious chair had lost its comfort long ago. A heady scent of smoke stained his room, lingering like an unwavering musk in spite of all the open windows.
He breathed in, and choked hard, cursing that his office was just above the vault- or what was left of it. No matter how many times he'd tried to air out the room with magic and open windows, it was almost impossible to wring the soot out from his clothes and carpet. A very nice carpet, he might add.
The unpleasant array of smells clung to his nostrils and stained his beard like tar: the whiff of burning fabric, ash and something unfamiliar. A strange, acrid taste that lingered in his throat like an unwanted presence.
The vault was most likely a total write-off, its main entrance was a puddle of molten iron and rock, enchantments long dissipated by ruin. Then there was the inevitability that most of its unprotected contents were now literal ashes.
It was somewhat ironic, to be honest, ample fire-protection wards had been in place. A kind of obvious measure when it came to valuables or the rooms meant to house them. Though, this is where hindsight should've come in. The arrays had been set-up lining the walls outwardly, seeking to repel any source of fire rather than contain.
Given the damage sustained, it had done the opposite. What was meant to keep away had, instead, kept it inside and turned the vault into Halkeginia's biggest oven, had there not been a gaping hole in one wall. Something that he was sure should not have been possible even if the arrays had been facing inwards.
The consequences were going to be… expensive at best, and devastating at worst.
Expensive was the most liberal word he could use, the reason being that many valuable artifacts and relics had been housed inside, some of which did not belong to the academy, but placed in by other noble families for a myriad of reasons: security, trust or just for convenience. Though they only made up a paltry sum of the grand total, compensation was a requirement.
An irrefutable requirement.
The issue with that is the actual costs. Quite a few of the items were valuable and old, a scant few even dated back to Brimnir's establishment of the academy itself. And all of them were one of a kind. Thankfully, the most important ones had been placed elsewhere long ago. Though that would do little to mitigate the fact that word of this event will go out.
The new hole could, on one hand, be hidden. But the smell will oust the cover-up, in addition to the tracks of a charging, golden giant and witnesses left in its rapid wake: servants, the two traumatized guards… and his secretary, Matilda.
May Brimnir help in her recovery of both body and spirit, though he would mostly prefer the body. Pity about her hair though.
The eventual annoyance of the church, crown and the nobles was not lost on him. He had the favour of the first two and the barest begrudgement of some in the last. It was never a secret that some covertly coveted his position, especially for the ease of connections to other, more influential, families. A fact that they could acquaint themselves with their heirs did not help either.
And all of this would then lead to the devastating part of the entire debacle, the source of the compensation. The school could be said to be well-funded, considering its quite generous crown support. It is, by no means, that well-funded. And he imagined that it would perhaps be an issue in the days to come.
And then there was a matter of that.
Though the only way to be sure will be after inventory is taken and the damage assessed, but that was a task for a later time.
There was one more thing he had to deal with, one matter that was made obvious and was... the cause of this recent unpleasantness. The Angel. Hamael of the Blood Angels, or so he says. The man, or being, stood by a nearby window, his back facing it and casting a long, silent shadow into his room. If he had not brought the man here personally, he wouldn't have been mistaken to have confused him as a giant suit of armor. Osmond had originally not bought into Colbert's talk about its size.
Now, after coming into full view and comparing them, he truly believed now.
Though Osmond wished that Colbert would've also mentioned his violent temperament; especially considering the near-miss some of his staff came to once they responded to the shining, and perhaps furious, being.. It did little to save the environment sadly.
"You have questions," Hamael finally spoke, breaking the subtle tension like a snapping string.
His voice was certainly something bizarre, Osmond thought. And he did indeed have questions.
He sat up, adjusting his posture on his cushioned chair, and arced his head upwards to face him. A jovial look, almost grandfatherly, dressed his face, "Yes. I—" Which was then ruined by a heavy cough. "I do. Are you sure you do not want a seat?"
"I prefer to stand for reasons that are obvious. Now speak. I shall endeavour to explain to the best my abilities."
"Then please tell me about the event in-depth," It never hurts to be nice, niceties are free. Osmond then added in a joking manner, "I believe we have time until Louise arrives. So, I believe we have a bit of time to… converse. And I also doubt that I could find anyone else who had witnessed your stunt." Well, not entirely. But he questioned that the guards didn't see much at all, running away like that— and he didn't have the heart to punish them for doing so. And Mathilda was not… talkative in her current state, not until she woke up.
And he was curious.
Louise walked quickly up the path, her mind in a flurry of activity as it bounced between a multitude of what-ifs and what-had. Her legs were on auto-pilot, shoes tapping on the cobblestone and gravel at a pace that rivalled her heartbeat.
What had Hamael done to warrant her summons? What if he had hurt someone, let alone another student. She had little to no doubts that disagreements with him would not be quiet, as big and strong as he was.
Why did she always seem to get the short end of everything?
Besides that, her mind also wondered occasionally back to what she had dreamt about, the showing of great and dark magics; gods and demons, both benevolent and heinous; an arch-angel falling to the anguished cries of others. That name, Sangunius. It was eerily familiar. She recalled it from somewhere but it eluded her.
Then there was a faint, smoky odour, and the commotion of activity ahead of her: the mumbling from young voices becoming more audible, but obscure. And it, along with the smell, knocked her from her thinking stupor like a wave.
A crowd of students had gathered up ahead. Not many as it was still early in the morning, but it was enough to pique her curiosity at such a scene. Louise looked up at the sun, it was still rising, too early for the breakfast gathering and let alone classes. She nearly tripped on a pothole but steadied herself at the last moment. A complaint on her mind, regarding the laziness of the groundskeeping staff, was halted when she made note of the trail of holes, or rather footprints.
They were large, deep and with a unique pattern to them, slid into the ground and leaving sole prints that went from side to side in straight lines. Fractures lined the front portion as if something had pushed against the gravel and packed earth. Her eyes followed the angle and she could see that they led directly towards steps of the main entrance...
Louise decided to pick up her pace even more.
"Make way, make way, let me through," she said, squeezing her way through the wall of brown, black and purple cloaks. Grunts of admonishment and annoyance followed her digging but they were soon silenced by a loud announcement. Taking advantage, she soon managed to squirm out and looked up at the robed speaker.
"Students! I have to apologize but by order of the Headmaster, the Main building will be shut down and access to it will be forbidden. All classes are postponed for the day due to a small fire and they will resume tomorrow. So please, take some time to rest and study. Meals will be either delivered to the communal areas of your respective dorms or to your room. Inquire with the servants and please inform your fellow students." He announced from the top of the steps, most likely a teacher— she reasoned. He then made a gesture for them to disperse with a stern face. A pair of guards stood directly behind him, blocking sight of the entrance with their bodies. Yet they made for more of a spectacle by being there. It was easy to notice the lack of a spearhead in one guard's hand, a ball replacing the sharp point, and the frazzled look of their clothes.
The mob parted, breaking apart as quickly as it assembled. Some seemed excited by the news, few were worried, but all simply took it as a perhaps a chance to relax. It was a pity, Louise thought, that she could not have said chance. And she began to walk up the steps, her eyes unknowingly following the broken steps before working its way up to the teacher above her.
"I'm sorry, miss, but I'm going to have to ask you to turn back. The building is closed for toda—"
"I've been told to come here, sir." Louise spoke up, cutting the man off. It may have been rude, she would admit, and not to mention disrespectful. However, she wasn't in the best of moods for
proper etiquette.
"If it's to see a teacher then I'm afraid it will have to be postponed. Quite a few of them have been… preoccupied with something." The teacher continued.
"The headmaster," Louise stated, "I was told to come and see the headmaster."
"Ahh, you're its… master." He said with unamused fashion, his voice giving a hint of disbelief. The man's posture straightened up and his face went blank momentarily, rubbing his chest with his free hand in great discomfort. Then he made way for her to pass, the guards following suit as they hastily pushed the doors open. They both looked frightened, afraid to look her in the eye as they shirked away.
"I think it's best you head there quickly, he, or it, should be with the headmaster. Just follow the trail of footprints, past the holes in the wall, and… the fires. His office is past all those and at the very top, just watch your step." He advised.
Louise gave a dumbfounded look, especially once she saw what the teacher was referring to past the open doorway. How it trailed off into the distance like a path of destructive breadcrumbs leading to the heart of the building. She took a deep breath, unexpectedly having to gag and cough at the smell, and marched on inside.
"What did you do familiar?" Louise pondered.
Awe and fear.
Lousie felt all of these in a union of emotions as she finally reached her goal: the wooden door down the hall, the only barrier that separated her from the Headmaster and her… familiar, Hamael.
She did not fully understand what had happened, yet, she also wanted journey to the headmasters office was like walking past a battlefield. No, it was a battlefield.
If there was anything to say, It was that Hamael was dangerous. A sole individual that had torn almost an entire floor to ruin. And she was the master of Hamael. It was almost frightening in retrospect, but it was somewhat inspiring.
At least she got something powerful, that was at least a consolation.
Until she realized that she was responsible for him. Then that awe morphed to fear and worry.
Was she being summoned to pay up? Or did her dream of a powerful familiar, which she did not doubt now, bite her in return? She dreaded if either of these would lead to her expulsion.
She looked again at the door. It was a plain simple door, lacking any sort of embellishment and design. An almost contradictory thing to the age and storied history of the entire academy. She was imaging something more, not less. The polished, smooth bronze handle reflected her face, distorted as it was by the spherical shape. And Louise could only feel one thing, apprehension, and then she raised her hand to knock.
It was the moment of truth. She could feel her stomach going in knots and turns.
As it neared, inch by inch, and just as it was about to rapt, she recoiled back to a loud, muffled bark. Her body jolted from the sudden explosion of noises that followed suit: a harsh yell that broke into violent speech between two voices.
Though the exact words screamed were muted, intelligible to her ears despite her efforts to hear. Louise could tell one thing: It was not Hamael, lacking it was in that distinct tone of his, which left only one other option. It was the Headmaster, Osmond, and he sounded furious.
She hastily made to knock, her mind unknowingly cursing at Hamael as all hesitation was wiped out. The hasty rasp of hand on wood turned everything silent as a grave.
"Come in!" Osmond said with a somewhat gentle tone.
Louise twisted the handle, pushing the door and entering into the room, and she stood still for a moment from the sight. A faint, smoky odor hit her nose, but it barely stood out from the rest of her trip here. What did stand out was how the gentle, seemingly easy-going, Osmond, had a face that was a mixture of what she could assume to be of anger, bewilderment, and exasperation.
Louise had only seen him a few times before, once in the welcoming ceremony to her entrance to the academy and a few times in passing. All of them showed him to be incredibly friendly, if not… a bit special.
Now, he seemed to be more like an overly-ripe tomato than a human at that point.
Hamael also stood near-by. He still carried the same aloof manner she'd attributed to him, though, the only noticeable change was that he was resting a hand on the handle of a very familiar looking axe. A strange object stuck to his waist, gun-like with a barrel that was filled with holes. Both were beautiful and Louise did not doubt that they were anything but ornamental showpieces. And she had recalled that…
Oh, that would explain it.
Louise felt like she had just walked into a dragon's den between two furious beasts. And both seemed to be ready to pry at the throat of the other with her in the middle.
She said the only things in her mind.
"You called for me, Headmaster Osmond?" Louise asked, interrupting the eventual verbal spar.
"Yes. I've had some words with your familiar and I have one question for you."
"What questions… sir?"
"How stubborn is he?" He asked.
What, Louise's brain stalled for a second. This was not what she was expecting. Not at all.
"What?"
"How stubborn is he?" Osmond repeated again. "The man refuses to see fault with his actions, he admits but he denies it just as much. He, it, the, he is infuriating," he stammered.
How stubborn… was Hamael? Louise had no clue. Sure, he had his… moments. But, she could hardly judge him. Barely any time had been spent with him since he swore his oath, not even more than a few hours, and he was silent almost the entire time.
Hamael spoke up, his voice in contrast to the Headmaster's frustrated tone. He was the ice to his simmering emotions."I am not stubborn. I have stated that I was the one to recollect my possessions, I was the one that 'ruined' your precious wall, and I had no actual intentions on hurting your servants unless my hand was forced."
Louise felt light-headed. "Wh-what did you do?" She didn't want to believe it.
"He injured some of the staff—" Osmond added before he was cut off sharply.
"I doubt that fainting is considered an injury unless you are much, much more fragile than appears."
"I am not referring to Mathilda, though she is thankfully safe and unharmed by whatever… happened. I am in fact referring to the fact that you almost turned another teacher into a window by throwing them at a wall."
"He was fine. The man is lucky that he missed his magick and I was lenient."
"Lenient enough to break a man's ribs and another's arm? For an angel, you don't seem to be rather benevolent."
"Enough to leave them alive. If I recall, he was fortunate that it was only that: I held back a great deal. And you know nothing about angels. Nothing at all. Others like me? They are less friendly when being under attack."
Louise truly felt the world stir around her now. "He did what?"
"He also broke into a vault and destroyed almost everything in it, Ms Valliere." Osmond continued.
"I was collecting what belonged to me, and that was what I fully intended to do. It was not my fault that I was hoarding someone's possessions." Hamael corrected.
"We were safekeeping it for you! We would've given it back if asked."
"Would you have really?" Hamael stressed. Anger simmered under those words as his emerald eyes shined. It rumbled through Louise's bones, despite the distance, or perhaps it was her imagination?
Wait, emerald eyes? The thought brushed away as quickly as it came.
"F-familiar!" Louise felt the desire to continue to chide him on the disrespectful behaviour. In fact, she should. No one chides the Headmaster. He was the headmaster, and he was also the one in charge of expulsions. Not that it was related to why she was respectful.
"It doesn't matter. Not a single bit now." Osmond interrupted, waving off the inquiry. "What does matter is that everything inside is gone from what we can tell so far. Ashes to dust, cinders and char. I don't know what you did, what potent magic you wield. I don't even know how. But, you, alone, have destroyed a small fortune: Relics, family heirlooms, tomes from great, ancient minds. All gone!" He argued.
A mouse jumped out from within his sleeves onto the desk. It looked up at him, giving a reassuring squeak, upon which he gave it a gentle pat before refocusing at the target of his ire.
All gone, those words repeated in Louise's head. A small fortune, that also echoed alongside. It was haunting words to one who had so little, of both esteem and wealth. Her parents could most likely provide some assistance, the Valliere fortune was not something to scoff at, but she knew that there would be a stipulation— perhaps to return home and be… no one. She wanted to ask, to inquire, more about the amount. The hope that something could be done to mitigate it. However, her throat was parched. Her mind was addled by the act of destruction construed before she felt something burn deep down.
She thinks it might be frustration. At herself, for being negligent. At Hamael, her responsibility. At how Brimnir must be laughing at the world's biggest joke, that she was. If anything, her burdens have gotten even heavier.
A failure at magic. A heretic familiar of another god. And now possibly with an oversized debt over her head like a guillotine.
Everything was just peachy… and she just woke up. She breathed in. She regretted it, giving out a small fit of coughs.
"Is there a point to this unending argument? You spin around and around with this and that; every little detail and embellishment given or assumed. I admit partially to its destruction, I do not shy on this detail unlike someone here. However, you cannot deny that whoever created that security automaton of yours did twice as much as I ever did." Hamael pointed a finger at Osmond." As I was trying to say before my charge had arrived. One of your warp-abominations, of earth and stone, charged directly at me; crushing all that lay in its way. And it did no inconsequential amount of damage. The result was from… collateral effects."
Osmond looked defiantly at Hamael.
Louise prepared herself for the continuing argument and tirade. She wanted to interject, if so. Yet, nothing came out of it, instead, he just visibly deflated. Now he truly resembled his age as he sagged into his chair. Sunlight streamed from the windows surrounding the office. Some reflected off of Hamael and his suit, others from the nearby glass cabinets. They all revealed the wrinkles and ashy-strewed hairs; his soot-covered clothes and tired complexion. It did not hide the confusion laced within his eyes.
"What automaton?" His eyebrows furrowed for a second, "you mean a golem?"
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