Of Summons and Swords

Word Count: 200

"Welcome back, master."

Frankenstein poured Raizel a steaming cup of black tea right on cue. "Why did the Lord summon you this time?"

Raizel took a slow sip then exhaled a soft sigh.

"It concerned his soul weapon."

Frankenstein's brows knit into a frown.

"Is there a problem with it?"

Raizel sighed again, the sigh deeper, heavier.

"He wants me to have it."

Frankenstein's brows almost disappeared beneath his bangs. He cleared his throat, still seized with bewilderment, but trying to keep his composure. It was rare for his master to engage in conversation, and despite the peculiar subject of discussion, Frankenstein would rather talk about the Lord's eccentricities and whims than not talk at all.

"If I may ask, what is the Lord's soul weapon?"

Raizel remained silent for a long moment, as if searching for words that would best fit its description.

"It is a sword," he began quietly. Then he sighed again. "But it is not something that can be given to anyone. Only the rightful heir can wield it."

Shock gripped Frankenstein at Raizel's choice of words. Surely, he couldn't mean…that sword couldn't possibly be –

"Excalibur?"

Raizel stared at him blankly. Frankenstein laughed awkwardly.

"Of course…not."

Of Birds and Mustaches

Word Count: 200

"Frankenstein." Gejutel narrowed his eyes, half-perplexed, half-wary. "What is that?"

Frankenstein's lips quirked wryly. "A gift from one of Muzaka-nim's travels."

Gejutel's gaze widened. Muzaka's gift was a…bird with colorful feathers and a large beak. He stared at it, hummed once; it stared back, ruffled its feathers.

"It speaks."

Gejutel's brows shot up at that. "Pardon?"

Frankenstein chuckled and petted the bird. "Say hello to Gejutel, Sugar," he purred.

The bird's voice echoed, high-pitched and aggravatingly accented.

"Hello, Gejutel. Hello."

"Oh my…" was all Gejutel could say once the shock wore off.

The bird's mouth opened again, its voice growing louder, sharper.

"Your mustache is weird, Gejutel. Weird."

Gejutel's lips thinned; he glowered at Frankenstein. The human shook his head though snickering.

"Just to be clear, I did not teach her that."

Gejutel found that hard to believe, but gave Frankenstein the benefit of the doubt.

"Then who would dare –"

The bird's voice pierced through Gejutel's eardrums, giving away the perpetrator's identity.

"The Lord is handsome. The Lord is great."

A sigh escaped Gejutel's throat. "Of course," he muttered.

"Shave your mustache, Gejutel. Shave it."

Gejutel's brows twitched.

"Frankenstein."

"Yes, Gejutel?"

"Bring me a razor."

"You can't kill Sugar."

Of Company and Shirts

Word Count: 250

Gejutel had been waiting for the Lord to speak, almost impatiently, becoming warier the longer the Lord deliberated in silence. It was never a good sign when that person acted in this manner.

The Lord tapped a finger on his chin, absorbed in deep thought.

"Gejutel."

The white-haired noble exhaled a breath of relief when the Lord finally parted his lips.

"Yes, Lord?"

The Lord's eyes slashed through Gejutel. Unblinking. Intense. Gejutel stiffened but what the Lord asked left him speechless.

"What does Muzaka have that I do not?"

Gejutel's mouth opened and closed but no words came out. It didn't matter. The Lord continued, unperturbed.

"Why does Raizel prefer his company over mine?"

Gejutel stuttered with his words, uncomfortable and out of his element.

"I…am not sure...my lord."

The Lord carried on as if Gejutel never spoke, humming and rubbing his chin.

"We are both Lords…we both have a daughter…" Something flashed in his eyes then. "Oh – I know!"

Shivers slithered down Gejutel's spine. The Lord's voice was too enthusiastic, his grin too radiant. This couldn't be good…whatever it was.

A few days later, Gejutel's premonition came true. Many sounds followed the Lord's passing wherever he went – whispers, sighs, gasps. Many nobles fainted.

"Oh my…"

"Oh Lord –"

"Oh god!"

Gejutel near groaned, carrying an armful of shirts, and tailing the Lord in hopes of convincing him that the difference between him and Muzaka was not the werewolf Lord's tendency to roam everywhere bare-chested.

Lord… Please put a shirt on.