AN: Now, this chapter was fun :3c Hope you enjoy reading~

Chapter 26:

Flavio had never felt so dizzy. It was eerie, the sheer jitteriness that he felt. Uncontrollable shivering.

It took effort, so much effort, but he managed to open his eyes. He did not know when or how, or even where he had fallen asleep, but other than the dizziness, he was not exactly uncomfortable. Not comfortable mind, but not in any discomfort.

Until his vision cleared and he realised he did not ever remotely recognise his surroundings.

He was in a grand room made from old stone. Halls of grandeur and archways. Portraits with frames of gold, with beautiful paintings of people he did not know rested on walls and curtained with drapes of red velvet.

"Where…?" he murmured, truly bewildered.

"About time you have awoken," a snide voice commented.

A chill raced down Flavio's spine, and he whipped his head to the side. Where his gaze immediately fell upon a man, an elderly gentleman with black and grey hair. A distinguished figure of nobility. And deception.

Schaffer.

"You-?"

Flavio immediately attempted to get away from the man in front of him, only to realise that he could not move. He looked down at himself in confusion, only to have dread wash over him. He was sat upright in a velvet covered chair; his wrists tied together with thin but strong rope. And to impede any chance of escape, rope was also looped around his chest and arms, binding him to the back of the chair.

Memories of what happened at the inn came flooding back and he winced, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He had been captured. In front of Fafnir, no less.

That…

That meant he was searching for him. He needed to bide him some time.

"So, you and that veteran explorer that was always hanging around at the inn were one in the same, after all, huh?"

With his arms folded behind his back in an air of sophistication, Schaffer paced over to him. "You explorers are too trusting of one another."

It was clear that the man held distain for explorers. Probably for anyone that was not him. His stance, the way he held himself, the tilt of his head and the way he peered down at Flavio through that stupid monocle was testament to his arrogance.

"So, the flowers, the threats, the arson attack against the restaurant," Flavio listed off as he glared at the man. "That was all you?"

Schaffer pulled an arm from behind his back and gave a little, conceited wave of dismissiveness. "I cannot claim responsibility for all of it. But I am the one who pulled the strings, you could say."

Flavio's hands curled into fists on his lap. "The mastermind, huh? You were lucky that restaurant wasn't full of people."

The stalking, the unwanted flowers, the uninvited visitors at night, the knives stabbed into his door – all of that was inconsequential in hindsight. What infuriated and devastated Flavio the most was the arson of the restaurant.

So many people could have been hurt.

Schaffer, however, scoffed openly at his anger. "Has it ever been full of people?"

"Of course, it has!"

Hng, arrogant bastard!

"Yes, yes. They were all falling over themselves to see the granddaughter of the Grand Duchy's minster."

Flavio stilled. The dismissiveness in the man's voice did not suppress the venom when he alluded to Regina and her family. His distain for the Dubois family was clear and evident. And it made Flavio wonder that all the things that Mandelson had said to him, about Regina and the restaurant, was instilled upon him by the man before him.

However, there was protectiveness in Mandelson's words, too. Schaffer could not possibly hold such emotions. Could they have been Mandelson's own words?

Flavio clenched his hands and raised them up as high as he could, revealing the rope tied around his wrists. He could not escape in the position he was in, but what he could do was try to fish for some information. Anything would do, as meagre or as nonsensical as it could be.

"Tell me, what is the point to all of this? Why did you target me?"

Schaffer folded his hands behind his back and began to pace, his footsteps cracking loudly against the ancient stone floor. "You know, you could have lived a life of luxury, if you just fell in Lord Mandelson's arms, like you were supposed to."

Yeah, he doubted the old man was attempting to play matchmaker.

"So, it was just manipulative tactics?"

"I wanted you to come to us freely, but you were just too stubborn. You made me do this. You forced my hand. I had no choice but to resort to such measures."

Flavio bristled and he snapped back a response, "Don't try to pin the blame on me. I made you do nothing. All of this was your decision, and your decision alone."

Schaffer turned and presented him with a stark, bitter scowl. Truly displeased with his audacity. "You truly are a stubborn one."

"I am a member of the Midgard Library," Flavio returned confidently. "I won't be so easily swayed by your manipulations."

Schaffer shook his head, almost in mocking sympathy. "Such a pity. It will make things difficult for you."

Make things difficult?

Before Flavio could demand what the hell those cryptic words meant, he was silenced by the distinct sound of a creaky door opening suddenly. And the sound of footsteps against cracked stone, approaching them. Flavio immediately turned toward the sound of the noise, and at the end of the long, windowless hall, a figure appeared.

And he was familiar. Those green eyes almost glowed in the dimmed lighting of the room.

Mandelson marched in; his face twisted into an expression of surprising anger. "Schaffer, what have you done?"

Schaffer furrowed his brow and for a fraction of a moment, confusion flickered in his eyes. It was soon replaced with distain as he turned to face his new, and clearly unwanted visitor. "You've been questioning me a lot later, Lord Mandelson."

The way Schaffer stated the other man's name, it was clear that he did not care for him in the slightest. Found him a necessary nuisance.

"Are you mad?" Mandelson continued. "Word has already spread that someone had attacked the inn!"

"They won't suspect us," Schaffer promptly replied. "No one would dare."

As Flavio stared at Mandelson, a realisation occurred to him. Wait, Mandelson was not the original Mandelson. He was a replacement or something. But…who could he be? Who was he really?

Connolly…? He knew Connolly. He reacted strongly to that name. That name made his eyes change colour. To the colour brown.

There was a reason why Connolly went into hiding, became the town's conspiracy theorist. He had lost his sister and his best friend. His best friend. That had be him! He had to be the latest Mandelson.

What was his name again? Come on, Flavio, think!

"…Grant?"

Mandelson's eyes immediately widened, and he whipped around to face him, the colour drained from his face. "Grant…?"

Schaffer also turned toward Flavio, but his expression was darker, far more menacing. "Tch. You've been speaking with that damn conspiracy theorist."

So, he was right!

Flavio tried to lean forward in his seat, but the ropes prevented him. "Connolly has been right about a few things. And he's right about this family."

Mandelson took a half step back. "Connolly…?"

Schaffer glowered and abruptly raised a hand in Mandelson's direction. A strange, eerie magic circle appeared just before the palm of his hand. A magic circle that was somewhat similar to that of war magic, but also very different. Dark in shade, and in presence.

It only existed only a few moments, but it caused Mandelson's eyes to abruptly change colour, to that of an earthly brown, before they rolled into the back of his head, and he fell to the ground in an unmoving heap.

What? No!

The way Mandelson's body listlessly crumbled to the ground made Flavio's heart leap into his throat. "What have you done to him?"

Please, still be alive…

Schaffer huffed as he idly straightened his collar. "I need to reinstate his curse. Fortunate, perhaps, that I managed to snare you at the same time. Both of you can step out into the arms of the gentry at the same time."

Wait, what? That was what he was trying to do?

Flavio bristled wildly as he tugged fruitlessly at his restraints. "Are you crazy?! The gentry will never accept someone like me. I might look like this family's lost wife or whatever, but she's dead. She can't return. And I can't take her place!"

And Fafnir would never allow it. Neither would his guild. And all the people that knew him as Mr Flavio. They would take one look at this new 'Wioleta' and know immediately something was wrong. And if explorers were one thing, they were inquisitive.

"Hm." Schaffer unexpectedly chuckled, the corner of his mouth upturn in a half, arrogant smirk. "That's where you're wrong."

Flavio fell back into his seat, his anger fading abruptly. "What?"

Schaffer's smirk grew positively wicked as he turned on his heel and stroll purposely toward a wall that was covered entirely in thick, red velvet curtains. Now that he looked at that particular wall, it felt extremely out of place from the rest of the grand hall. The large archway that the curtains draped from indicated that there was a chamber hidden behind them.

And that thought made Flavio's stomach sink.

"Behold!" Schaffer exclaimed as he pulled upon a golden robe.

In a flurry, the red velvet curtains parted to reveal a beautiful indoor garden of white lilies and angel statues. Within the centre of this garden was two stone structures, both in the shape of altars. One, however, held a glass structure or some kind. With something inside.

Flavio felt the colour drain from his face.

It was a coffin…

A coffin made of glass with a…mummified body in a white dress.

What…?

"Because of that Siska's weak constitution, she had to go and die publicly. I had no choice but to arrange a very public funeral for her." Distain was abundant in Schaffer's voice as he recalled the past. It dissipated, however, as he turned to regard the eccentric grave. "But no matter. The real Wioleta rests right here. Has done so for quite a few years now."

Th-that was Wioleta? The original Wioleta?

"H-how many years has she been here?"

Schaffer folded his hands behind his back and nonchalantly tapped his foot against the floor. "Ten. Maybe more."

What?!

"Her soul will always be attached to this body. And through this body, I can recall her spirit and her memories." Schaffer turned to face Flavio once more, his gaze sharp, narrow, and simply…evil. "And by doing so, I will place them into your body. Where you will take on the role as the new Wioleta of the Sidero family."

Flavio was left breathless. "Y-you…you're crazy." Desperation touched him and he tugged at bindings. "You can't keep doing this! There has to be an end!"

Schaffer shook his head. "It will never end. She has been known by many names. And she will be known by many more."

"Y-you can't keep kidnapping people, manipulating them, stealing their memories and have them act as members of the Sidero family! They're not immortal! They have to grow old eventually! People will start to grow suspicious!"

He paused as a sickening thought made his stomach clench. His eyes wandered over to where Grant laid on the floor. Unmoving. Not even a twitch.

"W-wait, is that what you've done with Grant?"

"No, he's inconsequential," Schaffer answered, abrupt but seemingly honest. "He was the one who married into the Sidero family. He is simply a means to an end. Should he have popped off and died publicly, I would have left him at that. But no, it had to be the beloved Wioleta."

Flavio breathed a sigh of relief. Ok, good. One soul in his body. That did explain why he reacted to his and Connolly's name when mentioned. Those were his memories.

Wait, wasn't Mandelson a Viscount? Should it not have been Wioleta marrying into his family? Had he got the family dynamics wrong? No, wait, how long had Butler been stringing Mandelson's family along? Had he been toying with two families?

What was going on?

More importantly, where was he keeping Flavio prisoner?

Schaffer kept a straight, falsely noble posture as he paced over to him. "You see, dear Wioleta Replacement, the Sidero was, no is a well-known family of magic and mysticism. They go back generations. But a curse has plagued the bloodline. Set upon them by a jealous rival family."

With a hand over his heart, he gave a low, sweeping bow. "It is given to me to ensure that this family's memory, its legacy, continues. And to do that, they found a way to ensure that their memories and knowledge are able to be passed into the body of a suitable vessel. A vessel like you, for example."

Flavio suppressed a shiver. "And how do you do that?"

Schaffer stared at him. A gaze so cold, so menacing that the bitter winter winds outside could not compete. "Through a ritual that I know. A ritual only I know. I will do whatever it takes to see that this takes place. No matter what. It is a noble cause for a noble family."

Flavio stared back at the man before him, his own expression that of fear. "How…how old are you?"

"As old as this family. I am their keeper."

That…that was impossible, wasn't it?

No, it was not. Flavio knew, better than anyone, that beings could live for hundreds of years. Through curses, through magical means.

Schaffer straightened his posture suddenly and spun around to face the flowery grave. "Yes, yes. Don't be impatient now. Just a few more minutes."

Wh-who was he talking to?

"I hear the voices of the departed," he answered Flavio's unasked question. "Wioleta has been becoming most impatient."

Able to hear the voices of the dead? Was he a hexer? He could even possess the abilities of a war magus. Though, Flavio could not rule out the possibility that the man was simply deranged. Keeping the body of a deceased in a glass coffin in a carefully manicured garden, within a grand hall of a building, and claimed to hear voices was not exactly signs of someone of a sound mind.

"Now, sit tight," Schaffer stated as he began to walk toward the gravesite. "I have a ritual to prepare."

Flavio instinctively looked down at his bound wrists in despair. The ropes were tight and firm. He could not remove them. Not without a knife. He needed to find a way to escape. Somehow.

That man…was insane. Worse, he was insanely dangerous.

A soft sound caused Flavio to snap his head up and narrow his attention in on the third man in the hall. The one lying seemingly, hopefully, unconscious on the floor. The noise was akin to a quiet moment of discomfort.

Was Grant regaining consciousness?

"Grant?" Flavio urged with a voice barely above a whisper, skittishly hoping to gain the attention of one man while not the other. "Grant, can you hear me?"

If he was alive, if he had some form of independent thought, then there was hope.

If Flavio could use the refresh grimoire on him. Sure, it was a stone. Not as powerful as a spell from an actual medic, but it had to do something. It should help clear some of his memories. Give him some kind of clarity.

Grant did not stir for a few prolonged moments, and it made Flavio's heart drop and hope fade.

Until he twitched. "Hnn…"

Ah, he was alive!

"Careful," Flavio promptly urged. "Schaffer is still here. Don't let him know you're awake."

He was not sure if Grant heard him at first, too busy wading through the hazy confusion of pre-consciousness. But as he moved slowly, purposely quietly, it was clear that he had heard him. And understood their situation.

Slowly, Grant eased himself onto his elbows and lifted his head. And with a pair of earthly brown eyes peered blearily, and painfully, over at Flavio.

"In my coat pocket, there's a grimoire stone," Flavio began to explain. "If you get it out and give it to me, I should help give you some clarity."

Grant pinched an eye shut and grimaced. He appeared to be in great pain, both of the physical and mental variety. But he pushed himself to his knees. He took a moment to glance over in the direction of the flowery gravesite, to get a handle of the dreaded Schaffer's location, before he struggled to his feet and staggered his way over to Flavio. Moving cautiously to ensure that his footsteps did not alert the deranged butler to any movement.

He finally reached Flavio's side and Flavio nodded to his left side. Grant crouched down next to the chair and slipped his hand into his long coat pocket, immediately discovering the rare grimoire stone.

When he placed it in Flavio's hands, he immediately activated it, quietly using it to refresh Grant's status and hopefully, his memories.

Grant's reaction was immediate – he blinked and clutched his forehead. "M-my name…is Grant. I remember now."

Good, it worked!

Flavio covered the stone in his hands. "Run. You can't help me here. Schaffer has too many hexes and spells, and God knows what else that he'll use on you. He won't hesitate to hurt you if necessary. Run."

Grant immediately frowned. "B-but…"

"Do you have a knife?"

"No…"

"Then go," Flavio said again. "Get help. Show the others the way."

Grant did not look pleased. In fact, he looked torn. As someone who had been under Schaffer's control for who knows how long, he would know better than anyone what the deranged man was capable of.

Staying would put both their lives in danger.

With a pained scowl, Grant turned away from him and with a cautious half walk, half run, he made his escape.

Flavio breathed a sigh of relief. Good, he got away.

He curled his fingers around the grimoire stone in his hands. He was unsure how long he would be able to keep the stone with him, but he was grateful for it. If he could somehow keep with him during the ritual, he might be able to mess with it. May even stop it.

"Hm? What?"

Flavio snapped his head up to watch as Schaffer storm from the gravesite and over to the spot Grant had once been.

"Where did that useless carcass go?" he muttered.

Of course, Flavio was not about to tell him the truth, so he decided to play ignorant. "Don't act like you don't know. You're the one who ordered him to move."

Schaffer did not immediately respond to him. He just…stood at the spot for a moment, with no reaction whatsoever. He then abruptly, sharply turned in Flavio's direction, and he looked furious.

"I don't know how you did it, but I look forward to using you in the ritual," he snarled as he stormed over to him.

With one hand, he snared Flavio's wrists and grabbed at the ropes around his chests and arm. With a simple tug, indicating that they were magically infused, he broke the ropes binding him to the chair, but strengthened the ones around his wrists.

"You are the most troublesome brat I have ever encountered," Schaffer added as he hauled Flavio's to his feet.

Flavio clenched his hands around the grimoire stone in his hand, smothering it. Hiding it. "I'll take that as a compliment," he retorted.

With impressive strength, Schaffer dragged Flavio toward the gravesite. Toward the second stone altar that laid next to the glass coffin. He threw him against it before shoving him to lay upon it. He grabbed him by the wrists once more and pulled them up over his head, where he then shoved him harshly down onto his back. And then tied his wrists to some kind of anchor, pinning them above his head.

"Not long now," Schaffer murmured, satisfied. "This ritual is foolproof."

Flavio immediately began to tug at his bindings. "I don't care how strong your so call ritual is, I won't submit to it! I have a life I want to life outside of this god forsaken hell hole, and I'm going to live it!"

Schaffer back away from the gravesite and unexpectedly, but within his deranged character, started laughing. "We'll see how defiant you truly are after this!"

The second those words left his mouth, a humming sound was heard, and a strange, eerie vibration suddenly filled the air. It was a gathering of energy and of magic. It stole Flavio's breath and he desperately tightened his grip around his grimoire stone as his heartrate increased.

Fafnir…

A loud, rumbling explosion thundered through the hall. The walls and floor trembled, rattling pieces of mortar and debris from the ceiling. And a cloud of dust rolled into the garden of the gravesite.

Flavio rolled his head to the side, toward the sound. The sound, the rumbling explosion should have filled him with utter fear. But it did not. In fact, it filled him with hope.

Especially the figure in familiar black armour and a presence of power. And of protection.

" Flavio!"