Michael lies to Louise about his true intentions and leaves for Count Mott's estate with Kirche on a mission to free Siesta.
Departure
Dawn's light penetrates through Louise's thin white curtains, shining directly into the bedroom.
I haven't slept a wink since returning from Kirche's room last night. Too many questions still swirl around in my head concerning Siesta.
Do I truly have the power to help her if, as Kirche warned me, Mott is a square class mage?
If he is, and I try to challenge him, how will I fair?
Just how powerful are these renowned square class mages, exactly?
Stronger than Guiche was when I duelled him?
Louise stirs in her sleep, shifting positions as she does so. Her eyes remain closed and she continues to snooze.
The morning is peaceful. I don't have time to enjoy it, though. Siesta will be leaving for Count Mott's estate anytime now.
Groaning, I stretch my tired limbs and force myself upright.
"Guess I'd better get dressed."
Pushing myself off my mattress, I make my way toward the wooden wardrobe to the left of Louise's bed. My discarded cloak and trousers sit by it in a small heap.
"Better be quick," I prompt myself at a whisper whilst pulling up my trousers and buckling their belt.
"Michael?"
I look back to the bed, finding Louise sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Ah, morning there, Louise."
"What are you doing up so early?" she asks with a yawn.
Best I be honest with her. To a point.
I throw on my cloak, fasten the bronze clasp, and stand by the door with folded arms.
"Turns out Siesta's leaving the Academy," I explain to the pink-haired lass. "I promised to see her off last night, along with Chef Marteau."
Louise is quiet for a moment. "Is that why you were out so late last night?"
I nod my head in affirmation. "Yeah, that's why."
Louise gets out of bed. She walks over to me and eyes me sternly, hands resting at her narrow hips.
"And just what did you and Siesta doing?" she asks, her eyes narrowing intensely.
"We talked, mostly. Then we shared dinner with Marteau, that's all."
"Oh, really?" Louise steps in front of me. She raises herself up onto her tiptoes and leans into my face. "Nothing further happened?"
Best I omit the kisses we shared, for the sake of avoiding an argument and wasting precious time.
"Nope," I answer. "I was a perfect gentleman the entire time."
"Well, alright," Louise sighs, seemingly satisfied with my answer.
She looks back up to me. "Where is she leaving for, anyway? It is quite rare for servants and commoners to vacate their positions at the Academy."
"Count Mott requested Siesta join him as a servant at his estate. Marteau told me last night," I answer, not at all downplaying the displeasure lacing my voice.
"That's quite the promotion," Louise notes, sounding as displeased as me. "Mott is a square class mage, and a very powerful one, at that."
"So, it's true," I whisper.
Still, what Kirche and I discussed last night has me concerned. Better run it past Louise.
"Question for you if I may, Princess," I pose.
"Yes?"
"This Count Mott, is it possible that he'll expect more from Siesta than just being a simple serving girl?"
"How do you mean?" Louise asks, a note of concern creeping into her voice.
"I was told that when a nobleman takes a commoner into their household, they usually take them on as a mistress." I harden my gaze slightly. "...Is it true?"
Louise frowns. "Unfortunately, yes. I'm sure Mott will have his way with her before too long."
"That settles it, then," I sigh.
"Settles what?"
"I'm absolutely seeing off Siesta while I still have time."
And I'll challenge Mott for her freedom, too. Not I'll tell Louise as much. Kirche promised to have my back on this one, after all.
"Hold it, Michael," Louise commands, raising a hand in protest.
"What?"
"You're only going to bid her farewell, aren't you? Nothing more?"
Shit. Is Louise onto me? Credit to her sharp women's intuition, if so.
"Of course," I reply as calmly as possible. "I'm only wishing her well. That's it."
"Good. Just see her off and leave her to her fate. That is all," Louise commands firmly.
"Alright, fine," I exhale. "I'll just see her off."
"Excellent," Louise replies.
"Do I sense doubt in your voice there, Louise?" I tease with a smirk.
"What are you talking about?" the pinkette snaps defensively.
"If I didn't know any better, Princess, I'd guess you were jealous of Siesta."
"Jealous, did you say?!" Louise's face flushes red. "Me? Jealous of her...?"
"Just kidding, silly." Winking, I pat Louise's shoulder.
"W-What I'm bothered by, idiot," the petite mage snaps back sharply, "is your disposition toward helping others. It landed you in a duel with Guiche the last time, remember?"
"Hey, I was trying to help Siesta and Montmorency."
"Still!"
"Fair point, fair point," I concede with a nod.
I turn around and head toward the door. "Anyway, I'll say goodbye to Siesta, then meet you later for breakfast."
"Oh, alright," Louise relents, stepping back.
With the girl's approval, I exit her room and enter the hallway.
...
It's a bit chilly this morning.
"About time we head off, Toby."
The Grimoire floats up from where he'd rested near Louise's windowsill and zips across the dormitory hallway.
I hear Louise's bedroom door close as Toby and I head off through the hallway at a brisque pace.
"Do you truly intend to leave this friend of yours to her fate, Michael?" the tome inquires.
"Not a chance in Hell, Toby," I reply, rounding the corner and beginning down the stone spiral staircase. "I'll just hash it out with Louise later or something."
"If you think that is wise. What do you intend to do, then?" Toby asks.
"I'll need to speak with Mott first," I answer as we hit the bottom step and enter the main hall. "Then, if that doesn't work, we'll resort to a little flame action."
"Are you sure that will not backfire, Michael? Mott is a powerful man, if what I overheard is true."
"I'm sure," I reply, exiting the main building and making my way into the Academy's courtyard. "And if it does, then fuck it. At least I gave it a good go. Trying and failing's better than doing nothing."
The sun is just beginning to rise. There are a few other students already out and about, walking the grounds with servants in tow.
"That's a good mindset, Michael. Rash, but good all the same."
"Thanks, I guess," I chuckle. "I'm not the sort to give up and do bugger all."
"All the more reason I safeguard you, then," Toby comments.
"Thanks again."
I quicken my pace and head through the main courtyard to the Academy's outer gates.
A carriage waits there. Siesta stands by its steps. Marteau watches after her from a short ways back with a stern expression and folded arms.
The maid is flanked by a pair of escorts wearing fancy attire and large, ruffled collars.
These are Count Mott's guys, I'm guessing.
"Good morning, Siesta," I greet my friend.
The raven-haired girl turns around. Her face brightens at the sight of me.
"Hello, Michael."
I press a hand to my chest and bow my head for the girl, Tristain-style.
"Are you ready for the journey ahead?" I ask.
"Ready as I'll ever be," she nods.
"Good, good. Well, don't forget what we talked about last night," I remind her. "You've got me, and Marteau on your side, Siesta.."
"Right," she nods.
"Aye! It's exactly as the lad says, Siesta!" Marteau follows with a hearty laugh.
"Sure is." I nod my head. "Anyway, have a safe trip."
Her cheeks pinkening, the maid pulls away from the carriage, sets down her bag, and throws herself at me with wide-open arms.
"Michael!"
"Ah, careful there," I cry, nearly falling backwards from her sudden embrace.
"Thank you," she whispers, her cheek resting against my collar. "I'll miss you, Michael."
My heart ached with the way she said that just now.
"Yeah, me too, Siesta." I return the embrace. "Me too."
After a minute or so, the two of us pull away.
"Be safe, alright? No matter what happens," I implore her, squeezing her shoulders.
"Right." She nods.
"Good, good."
We stare into one another's eyes for a moment. I'm captivated by those deep blues of hers.
"Siesta, we must depart." An escort's voice cuts our silent exchange short.
"I understand," the maid sighs.
"Have a safe journey," I tell her.
"Right." Siesta picks up her bag. She gives me one final look. "I wish you all the best, Michael."
"You, too."
Without another word, the maid turns and steps into the carriage. I turn my back to her, pat Marteau firmly on the shoulder, and then begin back through the courtyard.
"What will you do now, Michael?" Toby asks, floating next to me.
"Find Kirche and tell her it's on," I reply with a smug smile. "Figure she'll stick by her word and help me, given how besotted she is with me for some strange reason."
"And just whom is this 'Kirche' woman, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Another student," I reply, turning the corner and heading up the staircase leading into the main building. "Louise can't stand her. Still, I'll throw my lot in with her if it helps us free Siesta."
"A sound plan, young sir. How do you suppose Louise will react when she discovers your true intentions?"
"Who knows," I shrug. "I'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
"As you wish."
Toby and I make our way into the dining hall and find Kirche sitting by the fireplace, a glass of wine in her hand. Louise hasn't arrived yet. That said, slipping out of the Academy shouldn't be a problem.
"Good morning, Michael," she greets me, flashing a coy grin.
"It's on," I announce, getting straight to the point. "Siesta, I mean. I need you to show me to Count Mott's estate."
"Excellent." Kirche stands, sets down her wine glass, and stretches her arms. "So, when are we departing?"
"Immediately," I reply. "If that's alright with you?"
"That's perfect." She winks. "I was planning to slip out of the Academy today, anyway. Follow me."
"Lead the way."
"Wait, Michael," Toby implores me.
"What's up?"
"Are you absolutely sure informing Louise is out of the question?"
Kirche blinks at the sight of the talking tome. The reality likely sinking in after a couple of moments, she simply chuckles at Toby and me holding a conversation.
"If you wish, I could ask her to join us?" Toby proposes.
"Absolutely not." I shake my head. "Louise will stop me if she finds out.
"Perhaps. But she will be displeased once she finds out you are gone, either way," Toby points out.
"I know," I groan. "But it's a risk I'll have to take. We're off, Toby."
"Very well, then. Be it on your head, young sir."
Kirche and I exit the dining hall and head through the main hall.
"We'll leave through the main gates and take the carriage road southward until we reach a fork in the road," she informs me. "From there, we take the left path until reaching a small pub. Mott's estate is about an hour or so beyond that."
"Good," I nod.
We walk together toward the main gate.
"So, where did you find this talking tome of yours, Michael?" Kirche asks me.
"I am a grimoire, Miss," Toby corrects her sternly, making a sound as though clearing his throat. "The term 'tome' refers to a common book of little value."
"Right, sorry, Mr. Grimoire," Kirche chuckles. "I meant no offense."
"None taken, Miss."
"To answer your question, Louise and Montmorency bought him for me on a visit to Lenore yesterday," I inform the Germanian.
"Ah, I see. That was certainly kind of them."
"Yeah, I suppose it was. Hey, I'm grateful and all."
We pass through the main gates. The two guards stationed there are snoozing away.
"Lazy buggers," I remark, gesturing toward the snoring guardsmen.
"Yes," Kirche laughs.
The two of us continue on and enter the carriage road.
...
"Hey, Kirche, I was hoping you might do me a little favour," I say.
"Gladly, Michael. What do you need?"
"I was wondering: can we can stop off at the pub you mentioned before hitting Mott's estate? If you don't mind lending a few coins for rum, that is."
"I'll buy you as many drinks as you'd like, handsome," the buxom girl replies, slapping me playfully on the shoulder. "I could use a drink or two, myself."
I smile widely at her willingness. "Thanks. Not that I would've mooched off you under normal circumstances or anything," I explain, eager to plead my case. "I just don't have any Tristainian money, that's all."
"I understand, Michael," she smiles. "Let's enjoy ourselves before you confront Mott."
"That sounds good to me. And I'll back when I finally have money, I promise."
"Indeed you should, like an upstanding gentleman." Toby follows.
"If that so pleases you, Michael," Kirche agrees with a nod. "Anyway, shall we continue?"
"After you," I answer in agreement.
Kirche and I walk along the dirt path, side-by-side, for what feels a further hour.
...
"So, where is this pub again?" I ask my red-haired companion.
What can I say? I'm prone to enjoying drink or two when something has me anxious.
"We're close," the Germanian replies. "Another ten or so minutes, and we'll be there."
"Ah, right."
"Are there lots of pubs in your world, Michael?" Kirche asks with a look of intrigue.
"Oh, yeah," I answer. "I used to visit the local pub with friends quite often. Heck, England, where I come from, is pretty much the pub capital. You go down any street in a fair-sized town and you'll find somewhere to drink. Probably more than one, if you know where to look."
"Fascinating."
"You bet."
Kirche and I round a bend in the carriage road. The path continues into a forested area.
"We'll take the next right," Kirche says, gesturing to the woodland area.
"Gotcha."
"And then, the pub is only a few minutes further on."
"I look forward to having a drink with you," I tell the girl, nudging her with my elbow.
"Oh really? And here you played so hard to get when I invited you into my room the other day," Kirche reminds me with a heated purr.
"Hey, I just need to be sure of a couple of things," I explain.
"Like what, hmm?"
"That my next time sharing my heart won't get me hurt," I clarify. "And, that the girl I'm into isn't messing me around. I mean, I'm fine with some harmless fun; that doesn't bother me. Or something entirely committed, too. What I don't like is women being unclear on where I stand with them, if I'm honest."
Kirche goes silent beyond her short reply. Her face is unreadable, which is quite the rarity for a woman with such a voluptuous body and sense of allure. Best I drive home my point whilst she contemplates. Doing so will probably keep her on her toes.
"I'm not keen on girls giving me mixed signals," I specify. "Don't have the enthusiasm for playing games."
Kirche looks to me sheepishly from the corner of her eye and stays quiet.
"That's why I'm still not entirely certain about you, Kirche," I confess.
"Hmmm..." The redhead raises a curious brow.
She looks immensely uncomfortable now that I've snatched the element of control out of her hands and framed our conversation in a serious light. Almost a touch nervous.
"Well, what do you think of me, then, Michael?" she asks, her eyes fixed upon mine firmly.
"Truth be told, I find you an attractive woman," I admit.
"Go on..."
"And I find it difficult to ignore your advances," I add.
Kirche cracks a tiny, satisfied smile at my admission.
"But," I continue, "there's the matter of my feelings. You've got me thinking about my past relationship, and how it ended."
"What happened between you and the girl, Michael?" Kirche asks me.
"My girlfriend Anna, she was a sweet girl," I explain, recalling the events of the breakup. "She and I went out for years. Then, one day, we were supposed to have dinner together and she confessed to sleeping with best friend the previous weekend. It happened while we were coming home from a concert."
"Oh, that's awful..." Kirche's eyes tremble for an instant.
"Yeah, the betrayal stung. Still does, if I'm being honest."
"Did you still love her in spite of what she did?"
I nod my head and clench my hands.
"I loved her more than you could imagine. That's what makes it sting, y'know? Because, when the dust settled, she was left wondering why I wouldn't give her a second chance."
"I'm sorry." Kirche shakes her head and averts her eyes. "I can't imagine what it must have felt like."
"Yeah," I sigh, nodding my head.
"I can understand, though, why you'd be hesitant to get into a relationship with someone," the Germanian continues. "It must have been a terrible time for you."
"Yeah, it was. I went to a really dark place for a while," I reveal with a heavy sigh.
Best I flip the script here. Before I start feeling utterly depressed.
"And what about you, Kirche? I mean, it's obvious you have plenty of guys on the go at once. Styx turning up at your door showed me that much."
Kirche frowns at my pointing that out, as though of our little chat is really cutting deep.
"Well, what can I say, Michael?" she answers, folding her arms across her chest. "I like the attention. I like being adored. I can't help it."
"Right," I follow up, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "And with a body like yours you'll be adored for a good long while. Still, I sense there's more to it."
"What makes you think that?" Kirche snaps, sounding defensive.
"Just a hunch," I shrug.
Kirche stops still and lowers her head, sighing deeply.
"Alright, fine," she whispers, her voice shaky.
"Kirche...?" I likewise stall and raise a brow.
The Germanian lifts her head. She gives me a broken smile.
"My father... tried marrying me off to a much older man. I didn't want that in the slightest. So, I ran."
"Ran?" I echo.
"That's why I transferred to Tristain Academy," Kirche elaborates. "My family and the duke's are close friends. He wanted to arrange a marriage between us. I refused, so I came to Tristain in hopes of finding somebody on my own terms. Someone I cared for, not just someone that would be good for my family."
Kirche sharing her past like this provides me with plenty of insight. Enough insight to take a stab in the dark at her reasons for acting the way she does.
"And I'm guessing you got caught up in the thrill of receiving so much attention?" I presume confidently, narrowing my eyes. "Am I right, Miss von Zerbst?"
"Well, I-" Kirche's cheeks turn pink.
"I thought so," I smirk, patting the redhead's shoulder.
"Michael..." she whispers, her singular word sounding small and fragile.
"It's alright, Kirche. I won't judge," I tell her with a shrug, dropping my smirk out of kindness. "Hell, folks in my world get into committed relationships for years without even thinking about marrying. Plenty play the field, too. There's no shame in any of as far as I see it, provided you're honest about your intentions with the people you date."
"Really? You genuinely feel that way, Michael?" Kirche wonders, her eyes glinting with intrigue.
"Really," I confirm with a nod. "That said, I'm a bit of a romantic, myself. So, I'd like to eventually marry the girl I love if we ended up becoming something serious. Given the way shit went with Anna, though, I'll play it carefully for now."
Kirche nods her head slowly. She seems to have gotten over the initial shock of opening up, and has regained her confidence.
"And I'll be patient with you, too," the buxom woman purrs. "Especially since you didn't look down on me for being so honest with you."
"What, after you've been so open with me? No, I'd never do that, Kirche," I assure her. "That'd be shitty."
"I'm glad," she says. "Because, in this world, being a nobleman's daughter comes with many less than savoury expectations attached."
I nod, understanding entirely. Or at least trying to, given England's rigid standards back before I was born. "Meaning you're a tearaway for defying your dad, I'm guessing?"
"Perhaps. In a way." Kirche smiles and nods.
"Well, whatever the case may be, I won't put you down," I promise the redhead. "You've been nothing but nice to me since I showed up here. It's the least I can do."
"Thank you, Michael."
"Don't mention it."
The two of us share a warm moment, staring into each other's eyes.
Choosing to remain cautious, however, I gesture toward the open road with an outstretched arm.
"Should we get going?" I ask, prompting Kirche to continue ahead.
"Oh, yes, of course." Kirche nods her head vigorously, a slight smile on her face. "Let's continue."
"Lead the way," I encourage, pointing her onward.
The two of us continue walking. Kirche, smiling warmly, takes hold of my arm.
I don't recoil from her. Kindness for her being sincere, I suppose.
"Oh, Michael?" she asks.
"Yes, Kirche?"
"I'm truly flattered by your willingness to listen to me."
"You are?"
"I am." She squeezes my arm. "Thank you."
"It's no bother, really," I tell her.
"You're a good listener," she says with warmth.
"Easy, girl," I caution her with a small chuckle. "Don't go getting too eager on me."
"Alright, I'll try not to. No promises, though."
All I can do is smile.
Kirche and I continue onward together.
...
We arrive at a roadside pub after what feels like another ten minutes or so of continued walking. Could be longer. My sense of time since arriving in Tristain is out of whack.
"Your stop, Michael," Kirche giggles, pulling away from me and gesturing toward the establishment's front door.
I step nearer to take a closer look at the place. It's a crooked, craggy looking structure of uneven bricks with wonky windows. There's a weathervane on top spinning in the light breeze. Above the main entrance is a sign that reads The Greyhound Inn. Two old men with the looks of farmers sit out front at a rickety old table drinking from worn iron mugs.
"Thanks, Kirche," I tell the girl, nudging her arm before advancing. "I'll catch you back outside."
"Yes, do make yourself comfy while I fetch your drink," she replies with a sultry grin. "This one's on me."
"But-"
"No buts, Michael," she warns me. "Consider it a gift."
I give her a wordless smile and bow my head. Afterall, she'd probably insist upon treating me if I was going to turn her down.
"Thanks. This means a lot," I say. "I won't forget this."
"You best not, Michael," Kirche replies with a wink.
With that, the redhead heads on inside the pub with a wiggle in her step.
Chuckling at her usual energy, I sit at one of three empty wooden tables out front of the pub.
Late mornings like these are always quiet. I'd often spend time sat out in parks back home catching up on college work on free afternoons. It was relaxing, relaxing enough that my coursework always got done. I'd usually listen to music while I jotted down notes and typed up essays, too.
I think I'll give music a miss out here, though. The two farmer-looking guys across from me are giving me strange looks.
"Probably because I have Kirche with me," I guess at a whisper.
The two must think we're a couple, thanks to her throwing her arm around mine and holding me close.
That's good, really. It means they're less likely to cause the two of us trouble.
Y'know, maybe that's why Kirche did it? As a means of establishing protection for the two of us.
"Cheeky," I grin. "I see what you did."
Another few minutes pass. Kirche exits the pub.
"Here, lovely," she says, bringing me a pewter flagon full to the brim with golden rum.
I eye the huge mug with both amazement and horror.
"Appreciate it, Kirche. You'll be carrying me to the estate if I drink all of this in one go, though," I add with a nervous laugh.
"I wouldn't mind having your head on my lap." The buxom girl flashes a teasing grin. "So, please, drink your fill.
"Sounds like you planned this, Miss von Zerbst," I presume with a chuckle.
"Perhaps," she hums alluringly, lifting the flagon to my lips. "Now, drink up. You'll enjoy it, I promise."
"I'll bet." I smile, accepting her gesture with a deep, deep gulp of the surprisingly strong, delicious fluid.
When the girl pulls the flagon back and I set a hand on my chest, I close my eyes and drink in the fresh air.
The sensation is refreshing. Very refreshing.
Satisfied, I re-open my eyes.
Kirche takes a seat at the table, next to me. She smiles, impressed.
"Having fun, handsome?" she asks.
"Ohhh yeah," I croak. "Any clue how strong this rum is?"
"I didn't look," she admits, turning her eyes to the flagon. "However, the barmaid said it was the strongest they had. And the most expensive, too."
Kirche puts an arm around me and presses her ample bosom into the side of my shoulder.
I wince given the suddenness, but allow it.
"You won't get too drunk to carry out our plan, will you?" the buxom lass asks with concern, twiddling a lock of my messy blonde hair.
"No, I'll be fine. Honest," I respond, turning to face her with a smile and giving her a thumbs up. "Just need a little courage to perk me up, that's all."
"Mm-mm," Kirche grins back. "That's good. Keep up that attitude, Michael. You'll get Siesta back, I'm sure."
"Yeah," I nod in agreement. "Oh, and thanks for coming with me, again."
"You're most welcome." Kirche tightens her grip on my shoulder. "Anything to help the man my heart skips beats for."
"Y-Yeah."
Despite my apprehension, I smile at her determination to win me over.
"So, you're not dating anymore, you grubby little cow?" calls a nearby somebody, a young and aloof sounding man.
I twist my head towards the speaker. It's a horse. Not the voice, I mean, but the rider mounted on it. He's a tall, lanky teen. His complexion is mottled. He's not exactly full-bodied. There's a dark brown derby perched atop his head, and a pair of rectangular, silver-rimmed glasses over his eyes. He wears a Tristain Academy uniform, too.
"What's going on?" I mouth to Kirche, only to find her expression has turned stony.
"Friedrich," she growls, dropping her eyes to the wooden table-top.
"A friend of yours, Kirche?" I ask, cranking a brow upward.
"No," she answers, shaking her head. "Somebody I knew back in Germania."
"Come now, Miss von Zerbst. Call me what I am," snickers the tall teen. He climbs off of his stallion and glances at us both with an arrogant smirk.
I tense. There's something seriously creepy about his eyes.
Kirche pouts her lips. There's anger in her narrowed gaze.
She knows him as more than just a mere friend. I sense that fact.
"Very well," Kirche concedes. "But please, do me a favour and address me by my rightful title. We haven't spoken in years, after all."
The Friedrich guy scoffs loudly. "Like you deserve it, von Zerbst!"
"You know one another well, then?" I ask Kirche.
"Just a touch," she confirms. "Our families were good friends."
"Good friends, hmm?" Friedrich saunters over to our table. "Hardly a night went by when your parents, mine, and Louis didn't attend dinners at each other's manors."
"Look, please leave us, alright?" I request of the creep. "We're not looking to start any trouble here."
"And who are you, sir?" he addresses me with a quizzical look. "I don't recognize you."
"Forget him," Kirche warns the derby-wearing fellow. "Why are you here, Friedrich?"
"Ah, don't be like that, von Zerbst." He frowns and points a finger. "What kind of lover lets her boyfriend loose like you didt? Especially one of such fine breeding as myself."
Yep, this is another of Kirche's many lovers. I had a bad feeling that might be the case.
Kirche huffs and rolls her eyes. "We're not like that, Friedrich," she insists. "You'd do well to learn to turn your attention elsewhere."
"Oh, is that it? I transfer all the way to Tristain to find you, and this is all I get?" Friedrich pulls a childish pout.
Kirche slips out her wand from somewhere between her immensely large cleavage and holds it outward toward Friedrich with a small, warning smile.
"Let me advise you strongly, my so-called dear," the redhead recommends of the dweeby-looking lad, "do not try anything, because I'll blast you if you do."
Friedrich quirks an eyebrow and flashes an equally sharp smile.
"My, my, aren't you a riled one today, Lady Zerbst?" he laughs mockingly.
The noble lad extends a pair of arms for his fellow countrywoman, whom refuses to budge from her spot beside me.
"By all means, my love," he invites her. "Play hard to get. It's been ages since we've seen one another. Why not break the ice with a kiss?"
Okay, this basement-dweller is now officially ticking me off.
Irked by his persistence, I snap my fingers and ignite a small fireball in my palm.
"Down, boy," I warn him. "I'm already on edge enough today from worrying about a friend. Don't make it worse."
With a click, Kirche closes the lid on her wand and resets it between her mountains of tantalisingly hefty bosom. "I'll cast a spell far more potent than that if you continue, my dear Friedrich," she promises. "One that leaves no marks."
The threatening remark throws Friedrich off, temporarily. Nonetheless, he collects himself quickly. He turns back to me with the cold look of someone plotting revenge.
"You, newblood. Where did you learn flame magic, hmm? And without a wand, also."
I grin and push away from the bench, rising to my feet.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, kid. But I'm willing to show you firsthand, if you're tempted."
"No, Michael," interjects Kirche, rising to stand beside me. Bringing out her wand again, she aims point blank at Friedrich. "Allow me."
She unleashes a tiny flash of light that smacks the lanky teen in the face and spins him around like a spinning top. This in turn sends his derby flying askew and has him falling upon his backside, onto the roadside dirt.
"Oof!" he coughs out as Kirche jumps in and pins him by the chest.
In a single slick moment, Kirche unlatches Friedrich's belt and yanks down his trousers around his ankles. His junk flaps in the breeze.
Kirche glares down at him with malice evident in her eyes.
Friedrich stares back, naked-bottomed. His eyes meet his lower half's small appendage. Then, he looks to Kirche's generous chest above his own face.
"Y-You'll pay for humiliating me like this, Kirche!" he promises, face burning red.
Kirche merely tuts at her countryman and shakes her head. Her eyes glow with anger. There's a scathing glint of pity to them, too. Probably because of his dinky dick.
With a flick of her wand, Kirche unleashes a larger blast of heat and knocks Friedrich back against the ground.
His head suffers another bruising landing. Then, wincing, he groans. Kirche quickly pins him again.
"Now, run off back to Germania and do not return," the tanned girl commands with a mocking chuckle. "And, whilst you're there, forget all about your failed friendship with me and seek out a better fitting suitor."
Friedrich groans under Kirche's weight, but doesn't try anything more or less.
"Not a word about us, either, or I'll take your trousers and toss them into the nearest lake I find," the buxom noblewoman warns him. "Do I make myself clear, Friedrich von Veste?"
"V-Very," the dweeb stammers.
"Excellent."
"Alright, let him up, Kirche," I tell the fiery redhead, prompting her to dismount her fallen foe.
When she does, Friedrich slowly rises to his feet. Adjusting himself and his uniform, he turns around to me with a scathing glare.
I blow out the fireball crackling in my palm and cock smile at his misfortune.
"Hey, the lady's spoken," I remark with a shrug, laughing. "I didn't get to do shit. Wanted to, though."
"Damn!" Friedrich curses and picks his derby up off the floor. Once putting it back on, he stares Kirche and I down.
"J-Just wait until I tell your cousins about this, Kirche! Just you wait!"
Warning given, Friedrich mounts his horse and trots it back the way he came in a frantic hurry.
"Well," I grin at Kirche, "that was a fun reunion, hmm?"
Kirche cracks a shallow smile and shrugs.
"I guess. I could have kicked him for bringing my cousins up, though."
"He'll keep his mouth shut, trust me," I assure her. "After all, he doesn't want to be made to look a total fool."
"Hmm, yes. I suppose that's true," Kirche agrees.
A faint smile crawls upon her lips as she turns her gaze toward me. She takes a step nearer and plants both hands on her hips, flaunting her curves with a few sexy hip rolls.
"Were you impressed, Michael?"
"Honestly, kinda."
"K-Kinda?"
"Your attitude kind of ruined it, I'm afraid."
Kirche pushes out her lower lip into a fake pout.
"Spoiled sport."
I chuckle at her.
"I aim to please, Kirche."
"And you do so wonderfully," she purrs. "Well then, shall we be off?"
I pick up my tankard, down a stiff mouthful of rum, and nod.
"Damned right."
The two of us set forth and continue our journey onwards to Mott's estate.
Louise stands over a plate of breakfast left out on the Academy's front steps for Michael well over an hour ago. Alongside a mug of water, it is entirely untouched.
"Where is the stupid idiot?" the pinkette wonders with a displeased grumble.
A servant girl hurries on over to the front steps and bows, having been sent out to look for the missing familiar some twenty minutes ago.
"I-I'm sorry it took so long, Miss Vallière," she apologizes with a deeply respectful bow. "However, I was waylaid when asking after Mister Michael in the west wing."
"Waylaid by whom, exactly?" the student demands to know with a hand on her cocked-out hip.
"Two noble lads called Ramsey and Arnold de Boussu," answers the maid. "They overheard Miss Montmorency saying something about seeing Mister Michael at the front gates."
"They said that, hmm?"
"T-They did, Miss, yes," the servant answers with another bow of her head.
Louise clicks her tongue and hums. It's possible that Guiche is behind this. Kirche, also. Both nobles have seemed far too keen on Michael for different reasons to not throw him into trouble. For now, however, Montmorency is the most reasonable person to talk with.
"And where is Montmorency now?" Louise asks, folding her arms and narrowing her gaze.
"I last saw her by the dining room near the easternmost hall," the girl responds.
"The east wing?"
"Yes, Miss, that is correct." The maid nods.
The thought of Montmorency taking tea alone by her usual window over a morning snack quickly fills Louise's thoughts. She often drinks there before classes start. Perhaps she has useful information relating to Michael's current location.
Louise smiles faintly at the helpful information given, and waves off the maid. "You are dismissed."
"Thank you, Miss Vallière." The servant bows one final time and hurries away.
Left to her own devices, Louise returns inside and begins down the outer corridor toward the east wing.
"Idiot, idiot, idiot," the girl mutters, her temper flaring. "...Just where have you gotten to?"
With haste in her step and irritation in her heart, Louise sets off on a run to catch Montmorency in the dining room.
...
Louise slides to a stop in the east wing and pauses to catch her breath.
She notices a throng of students amassing out in front of the doors to one of its classrooms after regaining her composure. Montmorency is among them. Leaned by the classroom door, she holds what looks like a spellbook close to her chest.
The ringlet-haired blonde notices Louise, waves, and walks over to her.
"Ah, Louise, I was hoping we might chat. I saw the strangest thing earlier," she recalls with a concerned look.
Louise frowns and bites the corner of her lower lip.
"Does it involve my stupid familiar?" she asks bitterly.
"Why, yes, as a matter of fact, it does. I witnessed him leaving through the front gates about an hour or so ago," Montmorency reveals.
"W-What?" Louise gasps. "The front gates?!"
"Yes, with Kirche," the girl affirms with a nod.
A pit of dread in her heart, Louise eyes Montmorency with apprehension.
"W-With von Zerbst...?"
Montmorency nods gravely. "Not only that, but your familiar was headed toward Lenore."
Spluttering, Louise feels all the blood rush away from her head. She lurches to the side and leans against the wall to keep herself from collapsing onto the floor. Out of disbelief as much as anger.
"Did you happen to find anything else out about where they were going, Montmorency?" she asks with an unsteady voice.
"As luck would have it, I did," the blonde reveals with a self-assured smirk. "You see, I thought the two of them leaving academy grounds together was somewhat unusual, given your feelings toward Kirche. Therefore, I followed them a short way up the road. In secret, of course."
"And you overheard what they were doing together, I hope?" Louise presses.
Montmorency gives a satisfied smile and nods. "Yes. It seems they are planning to meet with Count Jules de Mott at his estate just beyond Lenore. Your familiar intends to get his friend back, I believe. Somebody called Siesta, if I remember their conversation rightly."
"That idiot..." Louise heaves an extended sigh and brings a hand to her forehead.
"Hahhhh," she breathes, struggling to calm herself. "Why does my familiar have to give me so much trouble? I specifically forbade him from going after that maid."
"This might be an indication, Louise, that your familiar is inclined toward protecting others," Montmorency muses. "How interesting."
"His little hobby will get him hurt," Louise mutters beneath her breath. "First, he nearly falls into a coma, now this. He's going to stress me into an early grave."
"Would you like me to help you find him, Louise?" Montmorency offers with a polite bow. "That way, you needn't fret over this matter alone."
Louise casts a grateful smile back to her new, surprisingly kind friend.
"Y-Yes. Your help would be invaluable, Montmorency."
"Alright. Just wait here a moment. I shall put my book away and then we'll set off."
With that, Montmorency strides gracefully off down the corridor and toward her dorm.
...
Mounted on a horse borrowed from the Academy, Louise and Montmorency journey onward to Lenore in hopes of catching the wayward Michael.
Montmorency rides whilst Louise holds her by the waist to remain balanced.
"What will you do when you find him, Louise?" asks Guiche's former girlfriend, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Louise scowls darkly and speaks with conviction,
"Firstly, I'll drag him back to the Academy. Then I will give him the longest, angriest lecture of his miserable life. Afterwards, I'll slap him a good few times."
Montmorency shakes her head from side to side. "So violent," she remarks with a grin. "Why would you slap the poor fellow?"
"Because he's being idiotic!"
"And because you care about him too, perhaps?" Montmorency follows with a giggle.
"C-Care for him, as in a romantic sense?!" Louise exclaims. Her cheeks flush red and her pale skin takes on a more pronounced hue.
"More as a master would a servant, I mean," specifies Montmorency with a teasing smirk. "After all, your reaction paints an interesting picture, Louise."
"What?! Me, of all people? A hopeless romantic for him? No! No, no, no!" Louise fumes, eyes narrowing defiantly. "He's a fool, and his hair's messy, and he snores!"
"He does, hmm?" Montmorency's lips slowly peel apart into a wide smile. "Do you still worry for his wellbeing in spite of those things, I wonder?"
"W-Well, I..."
Louise twists her neck, and, from over Montmorency's slender shoulder, sees a young man, a commoner, tending the fields surrounding a modest shack of a house.
"I-I suppose I do, yes," Louise admits softly.
The commoner tips his hat to her the pinkette as she passes. Louise returns a meek nod.
"It's almost sweet, in a sense," comments Montmorency a minute or so later. "Your familiar clearly values his friends."
"I do not wish to hear any more on this matter, Montmorency," Louise complains, shooting a glare back to the slightly older girl. "I'm bringing him home and then kicking his disobedient backside into next week. That is all there is to it."
Montmorency chuckles, giving the reins a solid smack. "As you wish, Louise, as you wish."
The two young ladies continue onward toward Lenore with added haste.
Frowning, Louise closes her eyes and holds on extra tightly to Montmorency.
"Just you wait, Michael," she utters in a hushed tone. "I'll punish you for making me worry like this..."
To be continued...
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