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Heavens forbid the moon’s advances. Presenting Isaac and Merry’s golden carriage drowning in muddy pale. Ashes crackle in stake torches lining the wooden drawbridge. Its dark design with golden linings flaunts the wealth of the lotus flowers drifting below. Can be hard to seen but the murky waters that must have eaten a maid this morning with how there is something white bobbing. Isaac pretends not to notice or say anything about it as he feels like he is about to retch at the sight of three giant statues of the princesses— polished marble too, sitting at the main entrance of the gray castle.
Sharp and spicy, and a bit garlicky? Isaac is not sure what he is smelling but it sure does not smell as fragrant as how lotuses should. And why would the lotuses be just floating on the river. True, that they look like scent cleansing lotuses but this overwhelming earthy aroma is enough to faint a vampire as soon as they are smell it. “Goodness” Isaac rubs his nose, and looks away at the hanged man. What point do they even have to make of this? It is a hanged man above a torch fire. Are they burning it? She does not look familiar but still, Isaac wants to retch seeing the state of the castle and he clutches the reigns, seeing a familiar fat ass, once a twerp noble, now burger sized for a man-sized rodent.
“Huh…You don’t look like you’ve changed boy” he says, before grabbing a handful of Merry’s mane when she decided to not stop. But that proves to be frightening when she bares her razor-sharp teeth. “D-DEVIL!”
And she still is going despite the noble’s commands.
Isaac proudly ignores the fat ass as well. Until this crybaby asks the surrounding knights to cut the horse’s head off. Which he stands and yell at him, “What do you want?”
Sobbing, “C-cut off that child’s head as well!”
But the carriage door opens and a valiant verdant Peacock flies out and lands made Isaac’s curly hair his nest. Merry had to stop from two lance men crossing their weapons to an X. While the lord magister appears to stand and step down into the muddle blues, and notice himself of the familiar burger twerp that is now, a middle-aged man in his midlife crisis. “Cornelius!” He greets, “A pleasant evening. You still look like the baby we saved from the goblins 50 years ago. How have you been?”
“Heh” snickers the fat ass as he walks up to the magister, eyes almost bulging out by the sheen oily glisten of his face. “I am already an Earl here magister. Can you believe it? It only took me 10 years and I am the youngest earl in history!” Flaunting his badge on his cape and the emblem of the three headed princesses on his platemail.
Though the lord magister despises the look of it, whoever the craftsman for this fat ass’s platemail raises his jealous brow. “Your accomplishments are indeed most remarkable and worthy of admiration. Pray tell, shall I henceforth address you as Earl Cornelius? I have no doubt that your esteemed parents would beam with immense pride upon hearing of your elevation to such a distinguished title.”
“They are! They are! And I got these too…”
As the magister and fat ass earl catch up with each other, Isaac--with Peacock on his head, asks the stoic standing guards to let them pass. “We’re here to meet the princesses to discuss the next festival.” He says, unconvincingly with how Peacock tries to settle himself. Which the guards say nothing to him. For sure they want to speak with the magister but seeing that he is busy with the fatass, Isaac has to do something and he eyes the open region around the knights’ crotches. “I’m also the servant as well as his representative so tell me before I kick your balls.”
Just the word balls break him to a flinch and his eyes look down, “What is your reason?”
Isaac tells them again, calmly like an intellectual not meaning to be frustrated, simply telling them unlike the Peacock who rages with his feathers. “Lord Magister will be hosting the coming May festival and we request an audience for the princesses with his proposals. He will need, after all, their permissions first and we want to waste no time for anything else”
“Has my servant and pet been causing trouble?” Ober comes up, the fatass leaving for the plaza. “Have you told them Isaac?”
Nodding diligently, “But they do not believe me” pouting much,
Two knights with their lances crossed, salutes with their free hand on their chest. A traditional greeting in the military that the lord magister is glad to see and well performed. “We have received word from her highnesses that you would be coming Lord Magister. I’m sure you have heard coming here of the fake news spreading around and we apologize for any misunderstandings for the judgement of our low ranked soldiers. They deserved to know your power and standing not just magister but also as a superpower. We heartily welcome you back to Kinguin, Lord Magister—Ober Vanderhawk” Opening their lances for Merry and the carriage to pass.
“Haha…it seems word has already spread about what happened. I say that it really is up to the taste of the princesses. I’m sure they enjoyed the intermission performance.” Ober enters after a respectful nod, but Isaac and Peacock are stopped by their lances, again. Which both servant and pet give these grumpy selling knights their most disgusted eyes. Ober turns and expects to have them pass. “They are my servants. Has there been a change in rules that the higher order should not bring their circles in?” The guards remain silent, and Ober feels the presence of their pressure trying to pin down Isaac and Peacock but both well know not to be intimidated. Especially when they also realized that fatass asked these guards to stop and not let them in.
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At that, Ober also realizes why through his own conclusion and uses his title as lord magister to bring them in, even to the point of threatening the existence of those close with them. By which the two lance knights break their mountain and reluctantly open their lances. “Do not worry if that earl will most likely schedule your executions, I will not be a part of it and you can assure that. Oh, and one more thing, is Adviser Horney present in the castle? I heard that he travelled far to Berugall”
“Yes, lord magister. The Lord Adviser tasked himself to the Djahatian isles. He did not return yet.”
Merry leads the carriage into the indoor stables while Ober with his servant and pet walk through the entrance hallway. Passing by great pillars holding valiant sculptures. The dusty ceiling paints a dusty depiction of a Peacock blessing villagers with its rain of feathers. With the marbled floor flaunting more of the wealth that Ober once had not stepped on. In fact, his slippers would rather prefer the solid cement and granite than these slippery tiles. “They will be expecting the Lord Adviser, Lord Magister?”
Water flows on the side by a thin tunnel and brings life to the indoor Bloothera flowers. “Hm? Oh, yes, yes, son. They would very much be expecting Advisers than me.” Beautiful floral colors of red, orange and blue. With a baby purple amaranth stalk unable to grow out from their heaps upon heaps of undergrowth. Then, at the very end sits a headless man in his golden throne. A sculpted depiction of the great crown of crowns sits on their neck.
A lady in black seems to be waiting for them as she bows and greets the lord magister with pois. Before asking him if he requires addition mairs or maidens. To which Ober politely declines and asks for her to leave, telling her that she knows the in and out of the castle better than even the princesses. To which the lady asks his apology, threatening to tattle on the acting high royals. But Ober simply ignores her and walk up to the great statue. Eyes solemn and seeking solace in the decapitated state of who seems to be a greater person than he is. He kneels, full with arms raised and palms up. Peacock does so as well, not knowing why other than a feeling that he should span open his tail revealing his grand fan of verdure shades. Magically growing its size befitting for a king’s display just like the one depicted at the grand entrance ceiling. Isaac also does the same as Ober. A gesture that can only be seen by the butler as heretical for what a lord magister should do in front of a sculpture.
“A mere sculptor you say?” Ober growls, low with dark horror, eyes black as he looks over his shoulder causing the butler to shudder, “Utterly disgraceful…Ah—my utter sin and disgrace for you. Boy, send the ungrateful out.”
“Yes, lord magister.” Isaac stands up, bold and chillingly calm steps walking up to the butler as if every step asks for her to retreat. But the butler remains on guard, “My lord magister does not need your service. Nor anyone under the princesses. So please, leave, you utter disgrace.”
The butler holds her breath, leaving with angered brows and glare. But why should she when her ignorance is at fault. Her wonder turns to range, pondering turns to self-tattling as she rushes for the princesses’ throne room.
“O' ye most exalted and divine Highness, enthroned in the celestial realms above the fires of purgatory and the abyss of hell, Beyond the reaches of Delrith and Necroxia, past the domains of Oulus and Aria,
I, your humble and penitent servant, Ober Vanderhawk, son of Eric Vanderhawk and Yenniren Quil, have returned. Magister Ober, forever in your service, kneels before you now, heavy with the weight of his transgressions. Forgive me, O' merciful One, for the sins that stain my soul, the wrongs I have committed, and the path I have strayed. With a contrite heart, I implore your grace and absolution, seeking solace in your boundless compassion. O' forgive me for my sins, for I am but a flawed and repentant being, forever seeking your divine guidance and redemption. O’ forevermore, neverlasting, immortal amaranth.”
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Forking for either the left or right, that butler from before would have led them left. Ober has no intention of meeting the princesses directly so he heads for the rightern halls. The red carpet fading into the shade of gray, the magic-lit walls depressed to a sombering gray and candles. Some even blown out by the open windows. Though pale and lifeless, the paintings of past honorable maids and mairs hang on the side. Their still photos presumable to be seen as noble and honorable. Some gives Ober a smile, to those faces who break the rules. Especially around the highest paintings where the Honorables before the time of the princesses are lively and fun together with beheaded…Ober sighs, though still smiling for the mairs and maids that took photo with their respectable beheaded masters.
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“Lord Ober, look how they all look stiff at the time the princesses started.” Isaac points out and indeed, gray, lifeless, and almost clay, unhuman and more like slave portraits.
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“Interesting isn’t? Change brings so much.”
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Isaac nods before both magister and servant walk for an open chamber but enclosed with glass. A large cross hammered with bloody pigeons on it. Their freshness fouls the air, and the engraved epitaph before it has a crossed-out name, replaced on top of it with the name “Rumen…Here lies one of Princess’s Rumen’s great masterpieces. The Pigeon Cross, where pigeons on the castle are sacrificed daily for our God…”
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“This makes me sick,” The boy does not have to tell. Ober does too and he wishes to read no more.
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“Let’s go”
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Further down the gray stones, patrolling knights and servants appears with rats in their shoes. Hurrying for nothing and when Isaac asks one of them, their replies are mostly because the princess needs tending or the princess calls for them. Not even the nobles would demand this much from their servants unless they are like Cornelius.
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Over around a corner where the white draperies of Maids and Mairs hang on the wall, a great hall for servants gleefully brightens Ober and Isaac’s faces. “Woah” The boy exclaims, truly though, the great hall has a huge hole that pigeons fly in and out of. Clothes hang above their heads as every servant seems to squabble out and about. Their worried faces not noticing of the lord magister----Ober simply chuckles their liveliness and think that this hall became more entertaining than last. Peacock, who was silently following them, suddenly gets grabbed by a Mair and said to be thrown to the oven, “COOOOCK! COCOOOOOCK!”
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“Ah! Peacock!” Isaac points
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which Ober undoes the spell and turn the bird back to normal, weighing down on the mairs carrying him.
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“Good heavenly gracious, I AM THE FLORAL KNIGHT. I AM NOT HERE TO BE TREATED LIKE TURKEY FOR AN OVEN! I did not know the castle is like this at all!” Running back to the lord magister who gladly turned him into a Peacock again. Seeing the magic, the servants think that this old man in purple robes is indeed a noble, and they bow their heads as they walk pass them.
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“Are we looking for someone lord magister?”
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“Yes” Ober keeps looking around, “You know, the dwarfized peanut butter.”
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“Oh! I know who you are talking about. I will go look around too!” Isaac cheerfully runs off to ask other servants about who they are looking for. Peacock follows suite.
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While the magister looks around the servants’ great hall, once again a beheaded statue looming above him. The fountain that had once immortal amaranths now replaced with orange lilacs. Curvilinear potteries holding the flowers with black soils sprinkled by bone. The flow of the fountain is still the same as he remembers it but waters are again, seemed to be a rodent’s bathwater. Then, somewhere in a tighter chamber that hosts the servants’ shoes, a trapdoor still remains. Ober knocks thrice and it opens. Cobwebs and dust greet the old man climbing down with the lid closed gently, not meaning to make any noise for whatever now lives here.
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Uttering a short silent word, blue light fills the space that sources from his chest. Vintage jaundiced papers stack the wall. Drawings and blueprints depicting machinations and dark creatures. Expressive unfinished portraits, all unrecognizable by how terribly drawn they are. A frayed cabinet holds spider nested scrolls. Ober blows the critters away and unfurls one of them. Written are words of ancient language that he can still read, “Cretins—scroll of the great Mallard Baijvour…not this,” He unfurls another, then another, until the cabinet is empty and all scrolls are on a mahogany desk. One that has a strange glint under one of the compartments. He carefully pulls out what seems like a chalk of metal, not larger than his own pinky.
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Uttering once again a silent word and images flash into his head. Given to him, hidden by him, casted a rune on a wall…Ober snaps out of the images and tears the papers off where he thinks the wall he casted a rune upon. He can see it, barely a rune anymore by how old it has been. But these traces of magic reeks of his Mahna and the magister quickly undo the rune, uttering words that he think can open it, bending his arms and imagining it to break. But no, it is not breaking. The rune is still intact.
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“Hey lady, hands off him!” Isaac is yelling at someone.
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And Ober still wants to break the rune but nothing is working. None of the words and bending he has done with runes manages to connect with this one.
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“As if I will bow to you! Lord Magister Ober is my only master and never anyone else!”
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Left no choice, Ober utters words “Tempus Praeludio” and the entire room rattles. The scrolls he threw on the desk, the papers he tore, and the cobwebs he swiped away, as well as himself, all revert to when he was about to open the trapdoor. Ober has reverted time, but not the changes made by others as he quickly rushes to his boy’s side whose neck is being choked by a blue haired bitch. “Isaac!”
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The bitch looks over her shoulder, eyes flaring with a draconic iris. “Ah…It is such right, oh lord magister…You are here~”
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He does not care who this bitch is or what she Is talking about, all he hears and utters are words for the boy’s burnt neck to heal. Peacock is also screaming from inside the oven, by which the magister flicked his finger and reverted his size—bursting out of the oven and shocking everyone.
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“GAAAAAH! I’M ON FIRE! I’M ON FIRE!”
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Then a bearded dwarfized man throws a bucket of water at Floral knight drenching him.
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“HEY! YOU RUINED MY LOOK NOW!”
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“I don’t know what’s better for you, to be cooked or to be wet.”
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“Lord Magister” The blue haired bitch walks up to the old man, eyes glaring down at the boy. “It has been pleasant to meet you~ I do not know if you remember me for, I was still in mommy’s breeding womb, but I am Rumen~ the youngest of the acting high royal~ and A queen of the rightern halls of Kinguin Castle. Aren’t I a great figure~? Hahaha~”
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“Save your words for later princess.” Gritting his teeth as he sees the terrible burns leaving scars on the boy’s neck. “I shall be addressing to you with your sisters at the throne room, so please, allow me to have the time to roam around the castle for now. For It has been long since I’ve been here.”
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“Indeed~ It has been long indeed~” She turns towards the dwarfized, her wicked smile and stare bulging and lit him on blue flames. “HAHAHAHAHA~” Laughing maniacally as the burning screams in agony. Floral Knight quickly takes a bucket of water and throws it at him but the flames are not wearing down.
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“GAH! Ghibli! Wait… wait… get me more water!” Floral knight screams for the other servants but he too erupts in a blue flame. And the princess watches as both scream in pain.
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A maniac’s laughter echoing throughout the rightern halls. Her eyes darting around with the lord magister kneeling before her, struggling to remove the burns and scars from the boy and to the two who are literally burning with no one helping them.
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“Hush” A soft voice commands and the flames shrinks into flaming chili berries, “Witch, stand down”
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“Thean, you…”
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“Shut it Rumen, you almost burned our precious lord magister’s pets,”
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“They are my entertainers!”
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“Entertain yourself in your torture chamber, not anywhere else.” Her figure strikes among the white servants and even the blue draconic bitch. Waist thinned by a corset to the point of a stick. With a dress that steals everyone’s breath. Her eyes flickering orange with a berry in between her lips.
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But horror to their eyes at the taller figure next to her. A surcoat with layers upon layers like a flower in bloom. With a doll like expression that stares blankly at the burned and the lord magister tending to his servant. She opens her fan, cover her lips as she speak. “Lord Magister, we welcome you and forgive my sister for her terrible reception. I’m sure you will be properly compensated for whatever loss you will have from this incident.” Gold eyes glaring,
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“HAH!? Sis Giza, It is my fault!? MY FAULT!?” Rumen raises her voice as if she is the victim, flailing her arms in wild gestures, “WHY AM I AT FAULT!? They are entertainers! My entertainers for Lord Magister, in fact. I should be rewarded for a great reception because entertain the lord magister!”
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“Has the word ‘tried’ never been in your dictionary Rumen?” Thean questions before asking the other servants to take the burned to the infirmary.
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“It was my effort and I did it effortlessly!”
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“Silence sisters,” Giza strikes her tongue, stepping forward towards the lord magister but not kneeling before him, nor is she looking at the boy. “You will address us of your return and plans right lord magister? Then quickly make do for we are busy high royals. And we will not tolerate anyone or anything late. I will give you a minute to whatever you are doing before we will head to the throne room and discuss. That is clear matter, correct?”
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That filthy bitch still has scars on Isaac’s neck. His teeth gritted and a nervous sweat drip down his chin. He looks up at the princesses whose eyes are hollow, undead vile vermins who have corrupted Kinguin. But to the princesses’ eyes, the lord magister smiles in agreement. Nodding off as they all stare at a disgusting pile of flesh prop the lord magister is tending.
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“Oh, and Rumen, be sure to set a rune on the lord magister’s servant and pet. The one where we can liven up the party when they intervene.”
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“Okay, Stone faced”
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