Cinia Pacifica Posts

Kazimir scoffed, but nevertheless, he accepted the fricasse that was placed before him. In the Royal House that was Buckingham, the Russian man was welcomed with a large banquet. Some of the people he met before were there, namely: Duchess Frederica, Princess Louise, and Queen Victoria. He met a Duke he hadn’t seen or heard of before, and a Russian man he clearly didn’t like from the start—Vladimir.

“Tch.” Kazimir was displeased to say the least. In his time, he had seen plenty of times where an incompetent ruler would bring Russia down, but Vladimir seemed to take the cake for him. His current situation was uncomfortable enough as it was, he wanted to get whatever “business” this man had with him over and done with. Scowling, he stared down at Vladimir, not at all trying to hide his disdain.

Vladimir was cloaked in a red coat and hat. His black shades hid his eyes and he seemed to smile at Kazimir.

“It seems like we finally meet,” the administrator of the Soviet Union said. “Eh, †˜ol Grigori?”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Kazimir scoffed, continuing to give him the stink eye.

“Ah, but I hope the objectives are.”

“And what objective would that be?” he asked, already not particularly liking where the conversation was going.

“To rule, of course,” Vladimir replied. “With you and your strength, I’m sure we can make Russia flourish more.”

“More?” A twitch ran past Kazimir’s brow. “I have witnessed seldom many accomplishments from you, and making Russia flourish is not one of them,” he replied. “Rather if I were to describe her current state, I would say she is a flower, decaying and withered after years of neglect.”

“Is that not because you are comparing overmuch? The idea to have steam culture was to promote technological growth. We cannot exactly grow like the Americans after all. We have to prepare our army too…”

Kazimir sighed. “Ah right, the Japonskies.” He shook his head, remembering his own time fighting them. “And then? To promote technological advancement is all and well, but you leave behind the growth of the people. Do you intend to fill their shoes with automatons?”

“Don’t you think they’re better with those than the frail toes?” The others across the table seemed appalled from these words except Vladimir himself. “We also have an idea to recruit citizens into the military force. Perhaps the machinations would come in handy.”

Kazimir could only continue to glare at him, for he could not express any more disdain than he already had. “Your lack of understanding shows.” He heaved with a sigh. Even she at least understood the people were a resource.

“I’ve heard what I needed to hear,” Kazimir declared. “There is no chance that I will partner with you.”

“That is most unfortunate. We’ll have to be rid of that mayor and all that you worked to achieve,” he said with a smirk. “Are you sure about this?”

Kazimir glared at him with utmost killing intent. “You just try it, I’ll stain that damn coat of yours a darker shade of crimson.”

“My country, my rules. They have to be followed.” With a flick of his hand, he got off his chair.

Kazimir felt a headache immediately after the snap of fingers. He saw a vision, and heard Katarina call out his name. He certainly saw Katarina being taken away and his company building up in flames.

A premonition or… He glared back up at the standing Vladimir. Of course he would have this prepared in advance. I won’t let him have the satisfaction, he told himself as his scowl turned into a grin. “This will not end good for you.”

“That’s what they all say. It never ends well, unlike fairy tales anyway,” he said, walking away.

…it won’t for either of us.

“Your Majesty,” he addressed the Queen with a respect he had addressed to only one other before. “By your grace, will you allow me to change my request?”

“I shall listen,” the Queen replied, placing down the knife and fork. With a wave of her hand everyone was dismissed, including the guests, and the attendants.

Kazimir clenched his fist. This display of humility was something he’d not expect he’d have to do anymore. “Your Majesty, please send me to Japan,” he requested as he bowed down to her.

“Japan? May I enquire about the purpose?”

“I have seen first hand what their technology is capable of,” he explained. “To usurp Vladimir, I will need that strength.”

“To usurp such power, you would likely be made to become a part of the pillars that holds their foundations. Just as they gathered Gemini, Pisces, and Sagittarius you fought with. You would turn the world against you.”

“…I’m prepared to face that.”

“So you would turn against me.” The Queen sighed. “Very well.”

“I understand that this is a very selfish request, but it is something that I must do.”

“Say, has the Countess said anything bearing consequences of the future?”

Kazimir paused. He had not expected her to mention that. “She… said there will come a time… where I will have to fight her,” he answered. “I can only assume she plans something that will drag even myself into it.”

The Queen closed her eyes, deep in thought.

“She plans to kill the Descendants of Time. Beware, Mister Kazimir. You will likely be drawn to the coming battle of the war, where the Blood Countess would hope the Descendants kill each other off.”

“…I see.” Kazimir could feel a slight tremble in his hand, for what reasons he could only guess. “All the more reason to go to Japan,” he remarked. “If she intends on such a thing then that Japonskie—Miss Natsu, will also be in danger.”

“She already was and still is. There was a large battle in Tokyo that was reported some time ago. The government is extremely cautious about her growth and protection as a result. We also lost one of the ten great Archmages who was protecting her… suffice it to say. The world is turning at a direction not well.”

“It would seem that way…“ Kazimir clenched his trembling fist. “But I at least want to try and turn it towards something better.”

“I wish you luck.”







Kazimir refused to have the maidservant guide him. He already knew his way to his room. In the Buckingham House, he was a well-treated guest. He’d shrug past the pleasantries, but his mood plummeted too hard to even accept any of those things.

He entered his room and found Anna looking into with what seemed like really frilly dresses from a closet. Kazimir sat down on a sofa and let out a sigh, his scowl still lasting.

“Oh.” Anna didn’t bat an eye while she hummed. “You came back, how was it?”

“The worst case scenario,” he simply responded, rubbing his temples as he continued to piece a solid plan of action together.

“Well, out with it. Can’t help you if you don’t keep it all bottled up in the head,” Anna said, putting down the dresses and sitting up straight over the bed to face him.

“The Soviets finally decided to take action against us,” he explained with a sourer than usual expression. “They have most likely already dealt with our assets back in the homeland…”

“What?! I worked hard on those things, we should go back and beat them up!” Anna said, getting off the bed.

“In time,” he said. “As it stands, the two of us won’t be enough to take them down. Especially considering they have Descendants like myself under their command.”

“They… have you under their command? Kaz, if we don’t save your men or Katarina, then who will? I don’t think they keep prisoners… ”

“You don’t think I know that already?” Kazimir responded in a harsh tone. It didn’t show in his aggressive exterior, but he was absolutely one that always took care of his underlings. “They won’t get rid of Katerina however, I can bet that much…” His fist clenched harder as he remembered the underground facility he encountered. Taking a deep breath, he tried to collect himself. “In any case, this isn’t something the two of us alone can pull off.”

“Sorry,” Anna huffed, looking away and sitting back down. “So what’s the plan?”

“I am heading to Japan,” he simply answered. “They have technology that advances past our own by years, it may help even our odds. Though I am not counting on it, I hope to try and convince Miss Natsu to lend us assistance. Another Descendant, as green as she is, could make all the difference.”

“The user of Sagittarius… how do you intend to rely on their technology? Considering Russia’s enemy has been Japan for some time now… well, you know the deal I guess.”

“I have fought my share of them in that war. Politics as it is, I prefer not to rely on that nation itself, only the technology they hold. But if it comes down to it, I’m willing to sign that deal with the devil, so long as I can get rid of Vladimir.”

“Alright. I’ll walk the path with you when it comes down to that,” Anna said, smiling warmly. “We’ve been through so much, I can definitely be of help I believe.”

“Heh, I don’t doubt it.” Kazimir chuckled. Grim the situation may be, he couldn’t help but return that smile, at least the closest thing he could call a smile. “…Thank you, for going through this with me.”

“With all that said and done, though. How do we get there? The securities are rather crazy over there.”

“I’ve requested the Queen to deliver us there,” he explained. “In terms of once we arrive. . . We may have to rely on Miss Natsu if we can reach her.“

“Ho ho, feel free to rely on my senses then! Let’s hope on it anyway. Yeah. Maybe. Probably. It will work out somehow.”

“Indeed… it’s a bit of a gamble,” Kazimir muttered, feeling the gravity of the situation. “Regardless, we’ll have to take our chances.”

“Did the Queen say when we’re going?”

“I would assume there’d be some time needed for preparations, but I would like if we can at least depart by tomorrow.”

“Sounds like too much to ask,” the Princess of the exiled nobility said. “Preparing fake documentation for your passport isn’t easy, especially by an enemy country.”

“Figures.” Kazimir sighed. “I suppose I’d prefer to spend the time making sure everything is sound than have it all ruined by shoddy preparation.”

“Yeah. Some patience is needed so… maybe we can go shopping!”

Kazimir sighed. “Very well… only since I do not wish to be cooped up in this castle for however long we may be here.”

“Awesome! Now we can finally get your wallet to get me something useful, for once.”

Kazimir scoffed at her comment. “Japan is an island country much like England, isn't it? Maybe we will find something useful here.”

“Yes, yes it is, but you think steampunk stuff will be useful? Well, aside from pretty dresses anyway.”

“And pretty dresses are useful?” Kazimir joked sarcastically.

“Looking pretty is life itself,” Anna said, pulling her chest up confidently.

Kazimir chuckled. “You sound just like—” He caught himself before he finished his sentence, sighing as he was reminded of his talk with her, sighing in regret of having reminded himself of the past. “… Nevermind.”

“Like my mother?” Anna asked but with a lowered voice, as if telling it to herself rather than asking.

Kazimir kept silent, not particularly wanting to continue the subject. “…Just get some rest. We’ll have a big day tomorrow.”

After a good night’s sleep—or so she hoped—Claudia was up again. The sky’s lustre never returned just as Crimson Rafflesia had told her, and the weather remained more or less the same; cold.

When she got up, she reminisced the events of yesterday, the way her mentor completely ruined an inn. Thankfully the owner of the next inn knew better when he saw someone dangerous and played along with acceptable terms. She soon saw her mentor sleeping on a bed on the other side, faced upright and straight. Her master didn’t seemed to have any type of sleeping habits at all.

“Now that’s a weird way of sleeping, isn’t it?” Claudia said to herself, giving her tired eyes a rub with the back of her hand.

“I am simply used to a coffin,” her mentor said with closed eyes.

Taken aback, Claudia tensed up. She wasn’t expecting her master to be up so soon, or hear her at all for that matter.

“I… I don’t know how to respond to that, I’m sorry…”

“Typical for those born as vampires. It’s fine.”

Claudia had almost forgotten that as a servant of the Countess, Rafflesia was a vampire as well, only natural born. “Right, so what is the agenda for today, Master?”

“We start your training,” Crimson Rafflesia answered, getting off the bed.

She moved almost mechanically and seemed to pay only the right amount of efforts for anything she did, which was not at all human. Then again, she wasn’t human—Claudia remembered.

Claudia pursed her lips as she watched her master move, almost breaking out in a cold sweat. Somehow, Claudia had already concluded that compared to the Countess, Crimson was far more… abnormal. Good God, why did she challenge her so quickly?

“Alright, so anything in particular I should learn first?”

“The Lost Lore is a story about power in the end. The more you learn—and master—the greater you become.”

“Such as any concept of power, really,” Claudia commented.

“A story and a concept are two different things, naive one.”

“I see…” Claudia said, painstakingly holding herself from retorting.

“Let us start with the story.”

Claudia gave a nod.

“A long time ago, the Pope of the Church had commissioned an experiment. As you may have heard, this Pope was Jesus Christ himself. It was still one of those earlier days of his great influence. Jesus Christ wanted to see the results of bringing the souls of the dead and living men together… hand-in-hand. It was considered a taboo experiment.”

“The proclaimed son of God tampering with the souls of others,” Claudia voiced. “Taboo, indeed.”

“The followers of Jesus, the Apostles were all his loyal Representatives in reality. They were the people who came in place of the Pope to commission and oversee the entire ordeal. It didn’t take long to run into problems. The question was †˜how?’ Mages of the ancient time were either geniuses or idiots, just like now. There was always a crucial difference in relationships. One was the master, other was the apprentice. Without true understanding, no apprentice becomes the next master. This story makes the fact very clear later. Anyway, the mages spent months to figure out that they needed something completely unique to manipulate the souls. So… the mages learned to hear the voices of the soul. Thereby allowing themselves to learn the language of the souls. This was the Soul Language.”

“Soul Language?” Claudia leaned in, interested.

“Yes, by hearing the voices of the souls this was invented. Note how Jesus made it after listening to them. The Pope came up with alphabets to make scripts, derived from something the Africans once practiced often. They used these scripts… to control the souls of the dead.”

“Heh, now that sounds enticing. Wouldn’t that be akin to Necromancers?”

“The term †˜Necromancer’ was made in fear of these spells.”

“No wonder. I’d be afraid too, especially after witnessing what happened last night.”

Crimson Rafflesia pointed her finger out and started curving the tip, leaving a blue burning trail.

“An example is faster perhaps.”

By the time Crimson Rafflesia was done, she formed a letter Claudia couldn’t really read, but the alphabet continued to burn in the air.

“Part of the alphabet, I assume? I can’t make heads or tails of it at all...”

“It is similar to Japanese where a single writing may hold multiple meanings. If I do it like this…” Rafflesia added what seemed like two lines and some dots to the strange alphabet. “Now the meaning changes from †˜gather’ to †˜attack’. The Soul Languages allows you to control the souls and harness their untapped potential. You saw what the commands were capable of last night.”

“And learning this alphabet is the first step of doing something like that, then?” Claudia asked.

“Which is why you may end up spending a year,” Crimson Rafflesia answered.

“Fuck, as if learning English wasn’t tedious enough…” Claudia huffed.

“We will try to go one step at a time. Same for the exposition of the story.”

“And as for any hands-on learning?”

“You will not practice on paper, only vocally for now, and with fingers as I had demonstrated. A good start would be to scribble with your fingers on a wall. Exposing your Soul Language writing in paper is a detriment at the moment.”

Claudia shrugged, yawning loudly in an attempt to disperse her tiredness.

“Fine by me. I’ll be glad to get this over and done.”

“First, we will have you get used to the voices of the souls. Alphabets comes after. You must first attempt to understand the souls by heart; understand their feelings, however rotten or unpleasant they may be.”

“That shouldn’t be too much of a problem, Master. I’ve met my share of unpleasant people. This won’t be any different.”

“Very well. Are you ready for your first Hearing session?”

“Absolutely.”

“If you remember the men’s soul I gathered last night. I still have them here,” Rafflesia said. Showing her palm to Claudia.

Claudia peered down at Rafflesia’s left palm but it was simply empty from her view. Unlike last night, she wasn’t seeing anything today.

“I… I’m not seeing anything, Master,” Claudia said with a tilt of her head.

“Voices cannot be seen, young one. Shut off your dependence on those eyeballs—they teach you nothing. Try to feel them, hear them, listen to them—that… is the first step. That is what the Hearing session is about.”

Claudia shut her eyes and did as her mentor said. She tried her damndest to listen to whatever voices Rafflesia mentioned—to no avail, of course. She clicked her tongue with frustration. “Still, nothing, Master.”

“I am going to place them here…” Rafflesia carefully brought down her palm close to what seemed like a tray on the corner of the room. Claudia figured that it was meant for cigarettes. Apparently, the souls were placed, not that she could see them. “Keep trying, Rome was not built over the span of a day. I am not getting you any breakfast—lunch—or dinner unless you hear even a bit of a murmur today.”

“Are you fucking—” Claudia stopped herself and bit her lip heavily as she groaned. “…Yes, Master Crimson.”

She dropped her gaze toward the tray right off, attempting to hear something from the souls. She truly wanted to get this over with.







Thus, Claudia spent hours trying to hear something that wasn’t from this material plane. In short, she failed. It was extremely tiresome to stay still with closed eyes and listen, that Claudia eventually thought she fell asleep from time to time. In fact, she probably did, but the thought of Rafflesia breaking her into pieces would get her back up with a jolt. The fear and the hunger likely worked together to keep her up for the majority of the time.

When she was finally losing hope, she heard something. A groan, one that was from a man.

“I want to touch a butt…”

Claudia heard very faintly, she almost didn’t catch it right, but she finally did.

“The fuck? Say again?” She got on her hands and knees and leaned in closer to the tray. She heard nothing after questioning. She waited some minutes, but the voice never repeated, nor did she hear any of it. “...I know you said something. Do I have to fucking flash an ashtray to get you to speak?”

“...Your butt is bad.”

Another voice was heard.

“Terrible…”

“Aha! I knew I could get you to—” Claudia paused. “The fuck did you say about my butt!?”

Again, Claudia wasn’t hearing anything anymore.

“Don’t go mum on me now, you morceau de merde,” Claudia said, focusing deeper.

“I bet that butt stinks of puss.”

“How about you kiss it, you inbred fuck?” As an afterthought, Claudia's stomach growled. As agreed upon with her master, she could not eat until she heard a voice. “I think that much is more than plenty. Master, could you come here, please? I heard voices,” Claudia called out.

There was no response.

With a groan, Claudia stood up and exited the room. Damned that she was on the receiving end of having to go and approach her master for something. “Master Crimson…?”







Claudia looked around the hallway and walked down towards the halls. She was on the second floor of a tavern and down below were the tables and chairs, along with the customers of the night. The sounds made it seem that the business was booming and it was lively. Walking, she found railings just some distance away that offered a nice view of the floor below. The hallway seemed quite wide. On that note, just at the turn of said corridor, however, was her master, drinking blood from a waitress under her arms. Claudia eyed the waitress curiously, she was cute, not resisting at all.

“Well you don’t waste time to eat at all,” Claudia remarked, approaching her master.

Rafflesia looked up to Claudia after retracting her fangs, her lips covered in blood. She cleaned her mouth with a handkerchief. The waitress was dazed with eyes that were disoriented. She likely didn’t even notice Claudia.

“Heard the voices, I assume?”

“Yes Master, and like you said they were as foul as my own tongue.”

“I see. For now, feel free to award yourself with a meal,” her Master said, gesturing towards the waitress.

Thank fucking God.

As if she hadn’t eaten in ages, Claudia bore her fangs and practically lunged at the woman, digging them into the side of her neck. Somehow the cuter ones tasted better to the Representative.

“After you are done, tell me about your experience with your first Hearing session.”

Claudia hummed with affirm as she continued to drink. Her hands even got lost in the waitress’ body during this. Eventually, she dropped her callously onto the ground, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand with a satisfied sigh.

“Okay, so I was beginning to lose hope at first,” she began, standing next to her mentor, leaning against the wall. “Then I heard a comment directed towards my ass.”

“How many phrases had you heard? One?”

“About four.”

“That is impressive,” Rafflesia answered coldly, placing a hand on her head. Despite the demeanor, she didn’t seemed to be lying. “Your talent stemming from your nature as a Representative shows, but you must learn to truly put it to a great use. You have taken a bold step today, and faster than I had assumed.”

Claudia blushed appreciatively. She never thought she could feel that way with anyone else other than the Countess.

“T-Thank you, Master,” she said with a bow.

“I will say this since you are showing potential. Cast away all confidences you had until you came to this country. All of it. Start anew on this path you tread, and I shall teach you… to wield true power.”

“Yes, Master…. from this day forward I will discard those things while under your care.”

“Good. I shall make you truly worthy of being a Representative of our Mistress.”

“To be truthful, that’s all I could ever want. Before now, I felt useless, and was beaten down every time I faced an opponent. I would be absolutely grateful if you taught me. I will cooperate all the way.”

“There are many weaknesses I have observed in you, but we shall get to them eventually. For now, worry not about the losses but instead dream of the victories in the future.”

That was the most sense Claudia had heard all day. She supposed she could roll with this for a little while.

“Yes, Master Crimson.”

The sky was dark and cloudy; murky. Chilly winds and blizzards blew very often. The lands were literally carpeted with snow and the areas were either barren or full of steel and poor people.

This was the face of Russia, more specifically, Moscow, that Claudia came across.

She hugged her cloak that her Master gave her and followed her. The two kept their appearances hidden and it seemed like such shady people like herself were common here. The streets were lively and bustling, but never with ordinary people. Some people were not simply not human, having the faces, arms, or legs of creatures.

By far it was one of the most bizarre places she came to in her life. Claudia being a vampire here seemed completely acceptable. The air was not only full coldness but also smoke, and it wasn’t very comfortable here unlike America. It felt more like England, but somehow worse. It was almost suffocating in fact. Her Master seemed completely fine despite the circumstances.

“Really gloomy here,” Claudia said, gauging at the chilly atmosphere. “Which way is the sun supposed to be?”

“You don’t know?” Crimson Rafflesia asked dryly. “Russia doesn’t have time. The sun never comes up here.”

“So this is literally a barren wasteland we’re standing in the middle of. Not the most ideal place to be lumped up in, but I’ll manage.” Claudia shrugged.

“By the way, when you ask a question, it should be finished with proper addressing.”

“You are really taking this whole Master thing in your stride ain’t ya, Master Crimson?”

“You will show proper respect, girl. Do as I say obediently or I shall destroy you—completely.” The wielder of the ancient Lost Form turned and faced Claudia instead of walking as they were. She held an intimidating air.

Claudia blinked at her master, twice, before sighing. She almost forgot that she couldn’t go challenging people so blindly. Perhaps she could humor this for a little while.

“…I apologize...Master C-Crimson.” She almost cringed having to address her without at least a bit of disrespect in her voice.

“Good. You are one quarter better now. As a thing that can move and live in the world.”

This fucking bitch… Claudia wanted to retort so bad, but something in her gut told her that she was going to somehow get bisected, or lose another arm for that matter. “…Right, Master Crimson.”

“I can sense your thoughts.”

Fuck, what? “I mean—fuck, what—Master Crimson?”

“I said I can sense your thoughts. Not the words directly, but I can generally pick up the meaning. You will learn to do the same when you master the arts of magecraft I teach you. Mind you, the limitations are the minds of the weak. Allow me take a guess… something about a bitch?”

“…That is… correct? Christ, that’s amazing…” Claudia realized she was referring to her when she said “minds of the weak.” Her face turned red with irritation, especially when she couldn’t talk back. “Ah… my apologies, Master Crimson.”

“Apologies accepted. Now, let us be on our way. The Soviet Union is careless as a dog pissing on some crops, but it would be better to be off their sights just in case.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice. I would rather not have an army up our asses… Master Crimson.”







The pair entered a tavern. Some of the people Claudia saw were the worst kind as far as she knew. Dirty, wild, careless, and obviously drunk. Everyone were ordering for drinks repeatedly after finishing their glasses full of what looked like yellow urine to her.

“We need a room,” Crimson Rafflesia requested in a rather commanding tone.

The receptionist himself, apparently drunk and having automatons for both his arms, seemed to not hear her words.

“…Pha, you uhh, †˜hat?!” Holding a glass of beer, the burly old man barely spoke proper words. His tongue looked strange, likely not very human either.

Claudia cringed in disgust, a small bead of saliva fell on the lower exposed part of her face as he spoke.

“I said—”

“Pha! If you wa’na rent a room lady †˜ya need ta show †˜yer pretty face. Hehe.”

“What?”

“†˜Ya know, for †˜nspections.”

“Is that so?”

“Or †˜ya could… hehehe, pha, †˜et naked! †˜Ya get ta room free then!”

When the perverted receptionist spoke these words there was a cheer. Some of the men surrounded the two with lusty eyes. This seemed like something that happened often.

“Hey babes, take off those robes for starters. They’re gettin’ in the way.”

“Yeah, yeah! Take them off!”

Claudia’s brow twitched with irritation. She was many things, but to be considered an easy woman to succumb to such an order, and from someone she didn’t know?

“Now I really know that Russia is backwards. That’s very straightforward for an inbred piece of shit, too,” she said with a sneer. “Usually someone so disfigured would isolate themselves, not roam around in the open.”

“Calmness—my apprentice—is what you require,” Crimson Rafflesia quirked her head towards her apprentice and lectured immediately, ignoring the remarks of the men.

“Sorry, Master Crimson…” Claudia cursed in her own native language under her breath– hopeful that her master didn’t understand French.

“I still pick up the meaning, regardless of the language.”

“So I’m not safe at all…” Claudia groaned to herself.

“I am going to warn you one last time,” Crimson Rafflesia said, turning back to the owner of the inn and taking up an index finger with a stone cold gaze from under her cloak. “Give us a room for the night to stay. We shall pay the fee.”

“Hahaha! †˜Guv, †˜lease let †˜er know… pha, †˜hat’s not how it †˜orks †˜ere!” the owner said with a wide grin.

Not turning her gaze away, Crimson Rafflesia gave her hand a wave as if dismissing them, all the men surrounding them except the owner fell without a word or groan—right on the floor—literally.

The smirk of the owner was gone then and there.

“Then—you shall perish at your own expense, sir.”

She gestured her fingers as if to ask someone to rise from kneeling down to her, and the owner’s feet rose from the floor, holding his neck desperately.

All the people behind them noticed the power that Crimson Rafflesia displayed and immediately ran out of the inn in fear.

“I command the souls to do my bidding,” Claudia’s new mentor uttered. Small, white oval things seemed to float out of the fallen bodies of the men, and gathered at the palm of the Lost Form user. She outstretched her hand and the resulting red blast turned the owner to dust. Crimson Rafflesia turned and started walking away. “We’re going to try another inn.”

Claudia watched as her mentor left. Amazement struck her as if the meaning of life had just been revealed to her, and all she could utter was, “Holy shit…” In that instant, she was almost as afraid of Rafflesia as she was of Virgo.

ayyy

thanks dikn0s

fug, how will i hide this tragedy from the new faces?!

forgot them

y u do dis

So, what's up IB?

Of course it's your damn problem. Before you even make a personal attack on me, think about how it's unfair to everyone else in the group because how you think every bad things should be convenient in your case while all the good things are meant to be automatically noticed and accepted. -Very- nice.

Sorry to hear your loss.

The city was a bustling place like usual. The soot and dust were aplenty, flowing in the air like usual. The streets were certainly not the cleanest of places, again, like usual. A hansom cab passed by and some wearing black coats were noted. The nobles seldom strode along the cobblestone pavements with grace, some holding a cane while others wore hats. Their getups were always overdone—lavish. Compared to them, he who was certainly not of noble birth could see them pass beside him.

In the Victorian city that was London, the time of peace seemed like an everlasting aspect, even if it was dreary thanks to the clouds always covering its sky. Many often theorised that the smog and the overproduction from the factories clouded the sky. Some scholars would speak of details none would understand. No mundanes would, anyway.

England was full with rumours as usual. It was rather abnormal how much people could get into gossips now that the arriving scholar thought about it. With no televisions or internet being accessible in a country that was literally back-paddled in time, perhaps people had no better means to spend their time. While the mundanes would tell tales about Jack the Ripper or the many affairs taking place in the High Places, the scholars and the wielders of mystical powers would often speak of the Diogenes at the foot of Her Majesty the Queen, or the cries of the steel monsters at night.

Who knew what truly lurked in the depths of the darkness of London?

He held the newspapers in his hands, looking over many of its published articles. These articles dispatched mundane issues like they were completely unprofitable and unimportant. There were such tales scribbled that anyone claiming them to be true in the streets would be called a mad man. The woman who’d judge the world? The fall of a moon? The destruction of half of South America? How could anyone believe such obvious lies?

Roland let out a long sigh, trying to organize his thoughts. How does one even react to hearing of such an event? A few months cut off from the world and suddenly there was about a tenth less of it. The scope of the destruction was unfathomable. He immediately wished he had been there to prevent such a terrible disaster before chiding himself for being so arrogant. He had trained hard to be able to live up to his ideals, but stopping beings capable of destroying nations on a whim was in an entirely different class. Still, he wished he had been available to give what aid he was capable of, noting the names of some of those who fought he knew from his days at the Royal Academy. After offering a moment of inward reflection for victims of the incident, he put away the newspaper and went on his way.

Refocusing, he set his mind back to the reason he had returned to London, a meeting with Duchess Frederica of Edinburgh. The one footing the bill for both his research and living expenses, it was his first meeting in person with her since he had approached her to go overseas. Born a commoner, etiquette was an art he had never mastered and in interactions with nobles it was made painfully clear. As he drew closer to the estate of the Duchess he grew increasingly tense, worried some accidental slight might cost him his livelihood.

The manor of the Duchess was quaint compared to the ones he viewed overseas. He noted that the air surrounding the walls was much cleaner and devoid of the foul smell that filled most of London. This was the type of luxury commoners would yearn for in the country. Little did they know that cleaner air lurked just outside the country too.

The guard stationed at the post beside the gate was very skeptical about him, but after much explanations were made, he was permitted to enter. In truth, he hadn’t had an official appointment with the Duchess of Edinburgh. Likely, she was unaware of his presence in the capital city of England. Regardless of these facts, a maid welcomed him inside.

He took in the air and it brought about a sense of bliss one would feel from luxury. There were several portraits of various people he knew not hanging across the walls. The parlour he was lead to was long and spacious, lavish with furniture.

Roland peered up to a bright light. Even if the sun was not visible, its light surely crossed past the clouds, illuminating the dark room. Before the long glass was a table and two chairs. The lady’s back faced against said window, apparently enjoying a cup of tea. He noted an expensive cup, but there was nothing more dazzling than the Duchess herself, in her long and flowing silver dress.

“Good day to you,” Duchess Frederica greeted. “I was certainly not expecting you.”

“Good day my lady,” replied Roland with a slight bow, doing his best to be polite. Upon seeing the breathtaking Duchess in her dress, he immediately became self-conscious of his casual wear, regretting having not obtained more formal clothes fit for the meeting. “Remote as I was, the sudden falling of the moon was not something I could fail to notice and felt it would be ill advised to continue my research without a care in the face of such catastrophic events occurring.”

The Duchess’ smile broke and she looked down to her cup of earl grey. She took a sip, letting it warm her throat, as if to wash over the returning memories of the tragic incident.

“Well, come join me,” she said, ushering the chair opposite to her beside the table. Her tone sounded dry, despite the fact that her throat was wet with tea. “It has surely been long. Year or two now?”

Roland didn’t know where the maid came from as she was pouring some tea for him. The skills of professional servants was a fearsome thing.

“Almost two and a half I believe. The last we spoke in person was when I left to attend the Magic Academy of Japan,” said Roland, savouring the tea. He paused, trying to choose his next words carefully. “I understand this may be out of line but, may I ask what happened in America? In The Times I saw your name among those mentioned.”

The Duchess gave a wry smile in response. “Well, if it is the articles of The Times, I would believe you know the story?”

“The paper may tell the story but such a large event can hardly be adequately described within its pages,” insisted Roland. “This time I may have sat on the sidelines due to ignorance, but next time I wish to be prepared to aid against what may come.”

“I would rather not send a young inventor of spells into his grave purely after hearing his brave words,” the Duchess claimed. “It was a horror—that incident. Children should not partake in something that is madness incarnate.”

“Is there no greater aspiration than to face the madness so others may be spared? I am not so naive to believe I will not die. In truth it is more like to happen than not on a battlefield. However there may also be a difference I can make. I am no longer the helpless child I was at the Royal Academy, only able to create theories. It may be small but I have gained some power which I can use to aid others,” Roland proclaimed, a hint of emotion entering his voice. He had no intention of throwing his life away chasing delusions of grandeur, but neither would he betray his ideals.

“Some power, you say?”

At this Roland hesitated. He had kept the knowledge of the relic hidden from all others both out of fear they might find his weakness and fear they might attempt to steal it. The Duchess had supported him from his time at the Royal Academy, before he began to show favorable results in Aquam magic at the academy in Japan. But even as much as he trusted her, to share knowledge of the relic was a tough decision.

“I can—” he began, searching for a way around the question. “No.” He sighed. “That’s not it.” He decided to come clean. A lie would just make thing worse and be an affront to the one who had enabled him to continue studying magic after he had given up once. “Can you agree not to share this with anyone else?” he requested before pulling up his sleeve to reveal the pearl implanted in his bracer.

She made a gesture to hint at money. “But what if someone offers a good deal for that information?” The Duchess smiled. “Joking. Go on, I am listening.”

“The pearls implanted in each bracer I now believe are a set of relics referred to as the Tide Jewels,” he began. “I found they are able to suppress the unstable aspects of Aquam magic. Much of the time I’ve spent researching the past few months has been in regard to their origin.” He purposely left out the origin of where he found the Jewels lest it give rise to questions he also did not have the answer for.

“I realise they’re implanted in the bracers rather than summoned. You have not truly mastered it yet, I see,” the Duchess remarked, finishing her tea.

“I was not aware they could be summoned,” Roland responded, surprised both at the proposition and at the Duchess’ familiarity with the relic. It had taken him quite some time to find a credible lead on the true identity of the pearls. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“Bearers of relics naturally know the general facts regarding them. To add, there is a certain research group I was a part of back in my years at the Royal Academy that studied relics extensively,” the Duchess answered. She raised her right arm and had it face the wall beside them. With a bright light, a broadsword formed and the hilt was positioned just in place for her to grip with ease. Her arm kept straight, the Duchess held the marvelously designed sword with grace. One could easily think that it was heavier than a child’s body, but she seemed unaffected by such a factor. “Bune’s Bane… in truth, it is a rather crude weapon to behold.”

The blade was black and there was a rune carved on it. Roland could just barely read it thanks to his knowledge regarding the Infernals. At his first guess, the word “searing edge” came to his mind.

Once again Roland was reminded of how much he still had yet to learn as he gazed upon the blade, wondering if he too could learn to use his relic with such finesse. He was still determined to convince her to let him stand on the battlefield, but at the current time his curiosity won out.

“Could you help me master my relic as you have yours?” he enquired.

“Is it truly yours, though? If it has not accepted you as its master then there may be more than meets the eye. For instance, perhaps its real—or rather—previous owner could summon it away from you before you knew it, leaving the bracers lonely. From what I know, if a relic has no owner, the moment you use it, the thing should become linked to your soul.”


At this, Roland fell silent. With its sentimental value, the prospect of the relic suddenly disappearing was terrifying for more than the loss of its powers. Desperately directing his consciousness towards it, he hoped to feel some kind of connection but there was nothing but the usual serenity he felt while using it. He was not sure if that was the connection mentioned by the Duchess but he suspected that it wasn’t as it gave him no innate insight towards how to use it. Overcome by worry of the relic being summoned to places unknown, he revealed the relic’s history as a family heirloom to the Duchess in hopes it might give insight into the circumstances surrounding the true master of the relic.

“I see.” The Duchess hummed. “Where are your parents now?”

“I never knew my father. My mother...” The years had dulled the pain but it was still ever present, throbbing. “My mother passed away shortly before I started attending the Royal Academy,” he finished.

“I see. Here is my theory,” the Duchess began. “Perhaps the relic is a part of King Solomon’s collection. In which case, it would make sense, and if it is indeed true, I doubt the King would summon it off your hands.”

Not completely satisfied but slightly less worried, Roland let out a sigh. The relic had gone at least a full generation without being summoned so the chance of it happening suddenly was slim. Still, he made a mental note to develop some way of tracking them should the worst come to pass.

“Is it possible to master the relic if it considers someone else its master?” he asked, returning to the previous topic.

“Impossible,” the Duchess stated immediately, pointing at his tea that was definitely getting cold. “In fact, a relic is said to be not at its maximum potential especially when King Solomon’s permission is not given.”

Roland resumed sipping the tea sheepishly. He was embarrassed to have become so engrossed in their conversation, he had forgotten about it. “If it isn’t too bold to ask, how does one obtain an audience with King Solomon?”

“It is a bit of a journey. You have to meet him in the Faerie Realm.” The Duchess chuckled nervously at the thought of meeting the King. “He can be rather demanding…”

“No matter, with that my course is set,” Roland stated finishing off the last of his tea. “I know not whether the journey will bear fruit, but it is better than living in uncertainty. In addition, who knows what knowledge may be gleaned from a meeting with the ancient King?” A small smile appeared on his face. The prospect of encountering a figure of legend excited him.

“Exploring the foreign Realms has been an interest of mine so I may guide you there. My sword was granted by the same King, after all. I do have a condition, however.”

“What might that be?” he asked innocently. He knew not for what the Duchess might ask but had no inclination to decline her.

“They call me the curious one for no reason. I have a mind to start a research project. Personal, but I assure you it is interesting. We shall be researching the Representatives.”

Roland’s eyes lit up. He could not deny he was a bit worried when she mentioned a condition but a chance to be on a research team alongside the Duchess was more than he had ever expected to get with his status. “I would be honored to participate,” he replied barely able to contain his excitement.

“There are some peculiarities that concerns me so when I think of the Representatives,” the Duchess began. “Their supposed semi-immortality aside, why are they limited to a single Commandment from their host Descendant, and why are they able to cast magic at all unlike their master? I have also heard reports of Judgement Reaper casting Supreme Spells… it makes me wonder how these beings achieve these feats,” she introduced the topic with excitement. “There is so much to learn but people are always focused on the Descendants themselves.”

“While I am curious, I must admit topics concerning the Descendants and their Representatives are outside the scope of my usual research. I’ve encountered them in books but have never had the fortune or misfortune of meeting one in person. Do you have any leads in mind to pursue the topic?”

“Unfortunately the good Representative we knew died back in the event with Virgo…” The Duchess sighed, reminding herself of the loss of Mary. “A good way to start would be to research the Supreme Spells instead, since I do not know how to reach a Representative immediately… yet.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, realising he had inadvertently brought up the painful topic once again. He hesitated considering whether to stop there, but his curiosity overwhelmed his tact. “Were you able to observe any of the aspects of the Supreme spell?” he asked. “Its incantation, the flow of mana, the form of invoking. The chance may be slim but maybe I may have encountered mention of it in my studies of ancient lore.”

“Unfortunately, I have only heard the reports. However, I have a feeling I know what spell Judgement Reaper might have used. It involves thunder and lightning it seems.”

“Might I ask to what that is?” Roland asked as he worked to recall all he had read on historical references of heroes and gods of lightning, hoping there would be some hint.

“Who knows? Our objective is to delve into the many Aurum Supreme Spells for the time being,” Duchess Frederica said. “I shall prepare some tomes for us to check through. They are rare so it would cost me quite the money to gather them. There should be an answer, or perchance a theory in the roots of the Supreme spells’ foundations. I am sure of it. That is why I would seek the help of one who is well-studied in the Arts of spells.”

Roland was surprised and flattered. He had not known the Duchess held his abilities in such high regard. “I will do my utmost to discover what it may be,” he proclaimed, determined to not fall short of the expectations that had been placed upon him. “However, may I ask that our journey to meet King Solomon take precedence? With the matter of the relic weighing on my mind I fear I may not be as effective as I could be.”

“Very well,” the Duchess accepted. “We may as well head out on the morrow. If you have no place to stay, I might offer a room. What say you?”

“That would be much appreciated. I had not put much thought to where to stay yet but no inn could compare in comfort or company to your manor,” said Roland. “I do have one more item to talk to you about.” He began taking out a journal filled with tags sticking out. “My research the past few months was not completely without result.”

“Ah, yes. You did go on a research trip. What are the results?” the Duchess enquired eagerly. “We have completed some research on our side while you were away. Duchess Caroline and I even invented some spells about a month ago.”

“In truth, my spell is not complete yet. It is an Aquam spell that makes use of a property of matter I learned of during my time in Japan. Have you heard of supercooling?” Roland inquired. “The functions of the spell are detailed within my notes here but I have had some difficulty with reliably generating water pure enough for the spell to function. However in my few successes, it displayed results that exceeded expectations.”

“I have but only a few instances, but it sounds interesting. I shall have a look at your notes soon.”

“I will leave this with you then,” Roland said, getting up and placing the journal on the table by the Duchess. “I am also quite interested in learning of the spells developed by you and Duchess Caroline but for now, I may take up your offer and retire to a room if there are no pressing matters. The journey back to London has been a long one.”

“Oh, no worries. Feel free to get some rest. It will be a long day tomorrow after all.”

“Thank you,” he said turning to leave but stopping midway adding a polite, “ —my lady.,” remembering his etiquette which had been forgotten halfway through the conversation. With a final courteous bow to the Duchess, he turned and followed a maid out of the room.

After Michael exited the room, he turned and his lips bumped against something soft, like a cheek. He looked up and found a woman staring him down with ire.

The butler rushed backwards in shame and fear. He looked up to a blonde woman wearing the habit of a nun. She seemed slimmer and taller than his Mistress. In every manner, she seemed to outclass her.

“Ready for your training?”

“Pardon?” Now, his lack of memories was starting to be a huge burden for him.

“I suppose your Mistress had not informed you?” The nun looked at him as if he was strange. “I was commissioned to train you, so that you could protect her in times of need.”

“It seems like she did not. Train me, though? You’re a nun.” He had already finished speaking before he realized he might’ve offended her. “I’m sorry, but I meant that as how would you suggest I be trained?”

“I suppose you don’t remember, but I almost cut you into two some time ago,” the nun responded with a smirk. Something about seeing the former Executioner of the Church like this made her amused.

“Not the first thing I can’t remember today, it seems.” He sighed. “How did it come to that?” At this point, he felt like anyone he would encounter would say something to him and trigger some sort of weird feeling. He found it unpleasant, to say the least.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. I hate this feeling of not knowing.”

“It’s a long story, but I happened to be in your way at the time. We fought; simple as that.”

“Well, if what you said is true I would take a detour next time.” He smiled at her.

“Sounds like my kind of answer.” The nun gave a smile that was even more smug than before.

He removed his glove and extended a hand towards her. “It might be late, but it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m...” Now, what was his name again? His Mistress never called him by name, and he had never really had to introduce himself to anyone so far. In his panic, he just used the first name he could come up with at the top of his head, “...Michael.”

“Why do you seem so flustered about your own name?”

“Don’t worry about it much.”

“Call me Saint.”

“Peculiar name, that one.” He retracted his arm. It seemed like the nun wasn’t one for handshakes. Or perhaps it was due to him being just a butler.

“Do you know about the world enough to say that?”

“Touché.”

“To the yard we go. We can’t have us breaking vases or some decoration, otherwise your Mistress will become a furious demon. We don’t want that, do we?”

The butler, Michael, just smiled as he followed the nun.







In the yard, they stood face-to-face. Of course unlike the times he is with his Mistress, they had considerable distance between each other.

“Believe it or not, I have to teach you a Lost Lore, or a Lost Form—whatever it’s called—and it’s a powerful set of spells. Virgo said she wanted you stronger when you come back, but I don’t really know what she is talking about…”

“Virgo? Come back? Are we former companions, perhaps? Forgive me but I really cannot recall you.” The unpleasant feeling he had started to appear in his stomach once more. His heart felt like it constricted for a second, but he paid it no mind when the feeling disappeared. “In any case, I will be in your care, Miss Saint.”

“That is fine, you don’t need to know. I don’t get it myself, but I’m only here to do my job. Let’s hope you’re the promising pupil I was looking for,” the Saint said.

“I’d do my best.” He could only reply calmly as his Mistress wasn’t one who showered people with praise which ended up with him not really the type who got pumped up by things in general. Especially ropes—oh how he hated those things.

“You better.”

“So, what is this Lost Lore exactly? What makes it different?”

“The Lost Lore is an ancient magical Art, and it is something that was either erased or forgotten by history. The Lost Form that you will learn is the Heavenly Sacraments Lost Form, and it uses the power of good to slay—and judge—the evil that harms the world.”

“That sounded like one of those stories the Mistress keeps in her library. So what does this Sacrament do, exactly? Do I need friends to use it?”

“Friends, why friends?”

“It was a joke, power of light and all. So where do we start?”

“First, you need to make a contract with an angel.”

“What.” He was surprised, how could he not be? Most trainings started with breathing exercises. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did.

“Well, that’s the gist of it. There are some steps. First, you should decide whether you want to wield a sword and a shield, a spear, or a bow and arrows.”


“Can’t I choose all of them? Or two perhaps?”

“I sure did, but I had to make a great sacrifice.”

“Great sacrifice? What do you mean?”

“I had to commit a sin.”

“We all do, Miss Saint.”

“I’m not here to teach you how to sin.”

“So it seems. How do we call an Angel?” He was only interested enough to ask, but not to intrude. It was not his business, nor his wish for it to be.

“By singing to them.”

“I can’t sing. Or are we having singing lessons first? I must tell you, I look forward to this endeavor.”

“I assume you haven’t sung any hymns before?”

“Never. I would have no time for such trifling things. My time is devoted to the Mistress and her alone.” The manner and the speed of his response was almost mechanical, as if his mouth moved before he could even think about it.

“You need some lessons for singing these hymns or something then.” The nun scratched the back of her head. This memory wipe is more annoying than I thought. You’re too good, Caster.

“Ah, so singing lessons it is!” He clapped his hands once, and he grinned towards her. “I do hope the Mistress will like this, unlike my cooking.”

“Don’t sing them to her. She might bite.” She grinned.

“Believe me, her bite is the least painful thing she can do to you,” he said, unconsciously rubbing his wrists. I’m going to burn those ropes after this.

“Least? Isn’t that harmful to your life?”

“Eh? How so?” He knew it drew blood, but aside from that it didn’t really affect him in any manner.

“Assuming she lets you recover, a vampire’s fangs drawing blood would kill you if she drank too much, yes?”


“Luckily, the Mistress isn’t one.”

“Uh-huh, and she still bites you?”


“Every night.” Somehow, he felt that he could divulge this kind of information to the nun.

“Every night…” The nun repeated with her voice trailing. How does she even keep him alive?

“Is there something amiss?”

“Do you like her? Not as a butler, but as a man, I mean.”

“She’s… a difficult girl. Lonely, yet yearning—for companionship, or perhaps just anyone to talk to.” He adjusted his collar, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “I will never leave her side.”

“That doesn’t answer anything. Was I asking you what type of a person she is?”

“I guess you didn’t.”

“It’s either †˜yes’ or †˜no’, right?”

“Miss Saint, my whole life consists of just two weeks with her. At most. I have never known anything outside of that, nor am I compelled to find out. It isn’t a matter of my personal feelings—or lack thereof.” He fixed his posture and took a deep breath. He really did hate not knowing, but he did not put any effort in finding out about his past. It felt like every time he thought about it, he suddenly lost motivation to do anything. Eventually he had just learned to block it off. “As far as I know, she is my whole life.”

“I see.” The Saint simply shrugged, having not really cared enough to pursue the matter.

“Well then, that’s some good talk I say. How about we get on with our voice lessons?” He once again smiled at her like nothing had happened. If his Mistress said that he needed to learn from this woman, then learn he would.

The nun stretched her arm out and a script formed atop her palm. “For starters, take this.”

He wordlessly took the script from her, accidentally touching her hand which felt surprisingly soft. He looked at the the script, scanning its contents as he went. “A hymn?”

It didn’t seemed like the nun minded him touching her hand, she nonchalantly looked down at him. “Yes, try singing it.”

“Guardian Angel from Heaven so bright.” He barely even chanted as he read the first line from the script. “Watching beside me to lead me aright. Fold thy wings around me… O guard me with love.” An unknown melody guided him, a melody that made him feel nostalgic and full of warmth.

“This barely feels like a song… well, stand up straight, put your shoulders down and watch your posture. Relax a bit after taking a breath.”

“I am standing straight, though.” He complained, but followed her instructions anyway.

“Oh really? You seemed slightly hunched to me.”

“Oh shush, let me try once more.” He held the script up again and started chanting again, making sure that he followed the melody in his head more diligently this time.

“What do you think?”

“About this hymn? I suppose it’s okay. I think. Why?”

“I meant about your own singing.”

“I think I may have a knack for this. Maybe I was a former musician.”

The nun palmed her forehead in disappointment.

“Look, I’ll only once give an example.” The Saint’s hands clasped before her chest as if in prayer and she closed her eyes.

“Guardian Angel from Heaven so bright. Watching beside me to lead me aright, fold thy wings round me.” A light started to form around the nun who sung with a clear and sonorous tone, bathing the grass around her in the blessing flash. “O guard me with love, softly sing songs to me of Heav'n above.”

Michael just kept his silence, completely mesmerized by the nun. It was as if he forgot how to formulate words as he looked at her, listening to her angelic voice. The light felt warm and it felt like it was embracing him like a mother would her child, yet it stayed there, surrounding the nun. He had a goofy looking smile on his face as she finished her hymn.

“That was beautiful.”

“I know, and that is why I cannot appreciate your song… just yet.” The nun sighed and the lights extinguished.

“So how do I do that?”

“Devotion, conviction, purity, a proper tune… uh, yeah. I think, anyway.”

“I can try a few of those.” He closed his eyes as he reflected internally. There was a lot of unknown within him; how could he be sure of his convictions? His devotion to his Mistress was unbreakable, that was for sure, and tune he could work on.

But purity? He chuckled to himself. For once, he tried to clear his mind as he concentrated, ignoring the nagging feeling in his head, the churning of his stomach—he tried to empty his mind as much as he could, and then he almost fell asleep.

“Don’t imagine your feelings for the Mistress, but the greater good above.” The nun pointed at the sky. “There is no purity in this world.” She gave another smug smile.

“The greater good above?” he sighed. Who believed in these pointless things? He closed his eyes once more and tried to reach out. Someone, anyone. O Great One, I need a sign. He focused as he tried the chant once more.

“This will take days I suppose…”

“Well, I don’t mind seeing you every day, so hurray?” He shrugged.

The carpets were cleaned and brushed, the walls dusted, the vases wiped, floors swept. Today was yet another busy day for the butler, who went over everything in the house. He walked around the estate and made sure that everything was in its proper place. The butler held in his hand a small notebook, in which he kept a list of things—a journal of sorts—which he carried with him at all times. His Mistress had told him about an accident which had incapacitated him for some time and apparently wiped most of his memories. Since his return, he had opted to use a journal just in case it happened once more so he wouldn’t be neglecting his duties as much as he had.

“Right then, the Mistress would have some tea at three.”

He checked his silver pocket watch, and saw the hour hand was almost pointing to three. He sighed as he returned the watch to his pocket, stuffing it right next to his journal. He ran a gloved-hand through his unruly silver hair, if only to make it a bit more presentable before he went to his Mistress.

The only thing he could hear aside from the noises outside the estate was the tapping of his shoes as he walked along the hallways of his Mistress’ estate, which was too large for just the two of them. The rhythmic tapping of his footsteps stopped as he faced the door towards his Mistress’ room, tapping on the door twice. “It’s almost time for tea, Mistress. Would you prefer to have it in your room or in the study?”

“Just come in with it,” the Mistress said from inside. Her tone was full of her usual laziness.

“As you wish. I will be back, then.” I should’ve brought it with me. Tea with tea time, tea with tea time, he chanted in his head, pulling the journal and flipping it open as he started walking towards the kitchen once more. He scrawled a note about teatime and encircled it a few times. His Mistress would not like it if he made a mistake about this once more. He recalled the first few times he cooked for her; and how he managed to irk her for seemingly minor reasons, to him at least.

A few minutes later, he returned in front of the room, wheeling a cart containing tea and small cakes he baked to go along with it. He tapped on the door twice once more before entering the room. “Please excuse me, Mistress.”

White Lotus seemed to be reading a book as the butler parked the cart and placed the tea and the cakes before her. She took up the teacup and took a sip.

“Still needs some work,” she remarked immediately. “You don’t change much, do you?”

“With what I can recall, it seems so,” the butler calmly replied as he stood beside her.

“You baked the cakes yourself?”

“That I did, were they to your liking?” He was a bit proud of the cakes. It took him a few tries before he had baked something that was edible, and from that he practiced a few more times overnight. It seemed that staying awake at night didn’t bother him at all, for he still managed to wake up early to do his chores.

“Not too great,” his Mistress answered. “Just buy some from the store sometime.”

“As you wish.” He bowed, taking a mental note to buy stocks of food to reheat later on. “Forgive my presumptions.”

“Wait… with how America is now, do you think the stores are even open?”

“It would be quite a challenge to find one, but I could start looking for markets earlier. Rest assured, I will definitely find food the Mistress would eat.”

“Okay, that aside, have you been… preparing for the night?” the Mistress asked, looking away.

“Pardon?”

“Y-You know… don’t make me say it.”

“Oh. I will give the Mistress utmost satisfaction, of course.”

“Hehe… we should use the whip this time…”

He gulped, as he hadn’t found any pleasure when whips were involved. However, it was his duty to satisfy his Mistress’ needs, and so he would endure; if anything, seeing her happy was somewhat the only thing he knew that kept him going. “I will prepare it then, my Mistress.”

“And the ropes…”

“I do not understand how the Mistress finds being tied up pleasurable.”

“It’s you who will be tied up.”

He sighed once more. It seemed he was so hopeful that she would not notice his reversal. “I shall prepare the ropes too, then.”







Michael entered the halls with another cart full of cakes of tea. He also prepared some cookies and scones as he approached his Mistress. Today, she had a guest, and it was his job to do his best to make sure the guest, too, was satisfied. He had spent quite some time searching for cakes that would satisfy his Mistress, and the shop he found was a town or two away.

It was a small family-owned shop which managed to stay open despite the chaos that had been happening with the country in general, and the clerk was a young woman with a penchant for going on tangents while talking about various things. She’d start by making recommendations, the strawberry shortcake in particular, then go on how it was hard to procure the ingredients they used to bake the cake. A few minutes later she’d be talking about how the president shouldn't have provoked the other countries into bombing theirs. In any case, he eventually managed to buy the damned cake.

He served the pastry with a smile on his face, taking note of how rare it was for his Mistress to have guests. The guest seemed familiar somehow, but he dismissed the thought, thinking that it was just one of those unnecessary thoughts he’d get as the days passed by.

“Would there be anything else that the Mistress and her guest need?”

“Prepare the… red wine,” White Lotus said.

Michael took the unlabeled bottle from the cart and uncorked it. The scent of blood immediately assaulted his nose, but he had no clue what it was nor why anyone would drink it. However, it wasn’t his job to question his Mistress, nor did he plan to do so. He raised the bottle as he poured the uniquely smelling wine into two glasses skillfully, managing not to let any of it splatter on his white sleeves or the floor. Satisfied with his own small show, he set the glasses beside the tea cups and returned the bottle to the cart.

“Oh? Fancy seeing a familiar face here,” the guest said, an amused expression could be seen.

“Mistress, you know my butler?” White Lotus questioned.

“Why yes. We had… quite the interesting endeavors together.”

“W-What?!”

“I was joking.”

“Uh huh…”

“Well, I did meet him after my dear Claudia was royally pummeled, I suppose.”

The butler twitched upon hearing that name mentioned, but he did not know why. As far as he knew and could recall, he only saw this guest for the first time today. He sneakily pulled the journal out of his pocket and opened it. Maybe he had her written there and just forgot. He felt something churn inside him as he flipped the pages, yet he couldn’t recognize what it was. As he reached the blank pages of his journal, he quickly pocketed it and closed his eyes; who was this Claudia person, he wondered. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. No matter who she was, she must’ve been inconsequential if he couldn’t remember anything about her.

“Say… how do you feel, Michael?” the guest asked him. She seemed even younger—yet somehow older—than his Mistress, who addressed her as Mistress. Was the guest her employer in some kind of work?

“I fear you might’ve mistaken me for someone else, madam,” he replied. The woman kept stating random names that somehow affected him, yet he couldn’t recall anyone with these names.

“Answer the question, would you?”

“Quite alright, I believe. But it seems that these people were somehow related to me in the past, if I would trust my feelings. Are they perhaps old friends of mine?” He tilted his head quizzically.

“I think they were—”

“Stop it!” White Lotus shouted, shaking with unbridled anger. “It’s my butler. Leave him be.”

“Oh my, you sure have a way with temper as usual,” the guest said, smiling devilishly like an imp.

“You’re fucking screwing with him, and right in front of me. Even if you’re my Mistress, that’s fucking annoying.”

“Language, Mistress.”

“And you’re dismissed!”

“As you wish.” He bowed his head and headed for the exit. Perhaps it would be a good time for him to think about these names. Claudia… and Michael?

“He isn’t related to any of them.” White Lotus turned back to the guest with a glare full of her irritation.

“Oh, is that so now?”

“That’s right. He is mine—fucking mine,” she said again, this time lowering the volume of her voice, but with the usual savage look. “So butt off. I want to be left alone and go about my own business.”

“Very well.” The guest got off her chair. “If you think so, then do as you wish, but this charade will likely fall soon.”

White Lotus simply cringed at the statement, but she looked away as the Countess walked away.

Ansel scoffed at White Lotus before leaving too. He had kept himself out of sight until the Countess moved, of course, so the butler never saw him when he was there.

Weiss woke up, finding herself over the bed of steel once more. She felt reminiscent of the times she’d found herself on this flat steel and found herself completely fixed. This was not true this time around. Weiss’ body was quite battered today, but some of her flesh had grown back thanks to her regenerative capabilities stemming from her nature as a Descendant of Time.

“Ugh my head,” Weiss said as she changed her position. “I guess Boss Lady survived.” Weiss stretched her whole body and stood up. That battle was so uneven. Still. . . Weiss tried to walk out of the room, limping, but someone stopped her.

“Mother, you should not go out yet,” a voice unfamiliar to her spoke. Due to the lack of light, Weiss could hardly see her, but she took her back to the bed. “Our Mistress is still asleep so she cannot repair you yet.”

“Wha—” Weiss was back at her steel bed and sat on it. “W-W-What did you just say, Miss?” Weiss trembled as her eyes adjusted to the poorly lit room.

“That you should rest here?” The lady tilted her head.

“B-Before that.” Weiss’ eyes started to water.

She palmed Weiss’ cheeks and looked into her eye.

“Mother?”

Weiss hugged her child tight without saying a word. She only cried.

Unlike Weiss, however, the lady did not cry, but she held her.

“You came to me too late.”

Weiss wiped her tears.

“I know. I have only known about me having twins since a few days ago.”

“It is alright. I would not want you to see how ugly and disgusting I have grown up to be,” she spoke with a crooked smile, her left eye shining with the same navy-blue color of Virgo’s Commandments. “I am broken, mother. There is nothing to see here.”

“I don’t think so.” Weiss put her hand on her daughter’s cheek. “You are still beautiful to me.” Weiss smiled. “I mean just look at me, we’re practically the same now.”

“I did not mean it that way.”

“Well, I don’t care. I accept you anyway you are.”

“Even if I only care about my one and only friend?”

Weiss paused and nodded. “Yes,” she answered with an obvious sad tone. “I know that it is my fault for not finding out and seeking you and your sister, plus you have already grown. You already know how to take care of yourself by now, no? Meeting you like this has already made me so happy.”

“I wonder why. I thought I would feel similarly, but I feel nothing, nothing like the sense of elation when I find myself with Mary…”

“Obviously it’s because me and your late father never saw you grow from a baby. Never been there for you. In your mind right now, you must be thinking †˜This is my mother? The one that abandoned me when I was still a child? What makes her think that I am glad to meet her?’ or something like that, yes?”

“Something like that, but I do not think you abandoned me. The Mistress did tell me that your memories were wiped, and for reasons… I do not quite find acceptable. I do not blame you, mother.”

“I see. Well your father was always like that, always doing things without anyone’s approval. But you know, if you were with us on that train that day, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“True. If it were not for him I would never have met Mary… no, I should never have met her…”

“Met who? Boss lady?” Weiss realised something. “Before that, sit right beside me, please.” Weiss tapped the side of her bed.

“Boss lady?” Her daughter did as told.

“Oh yeah, most people know her as Virgo, but yeah. She is the one who helped me to seek out revenge on who killed your father.”

“I am not talking about our Mistress, though.”

“I see. I guess it was this Mary that you mentioned earlier. Well glad that you met her. Anyway, I want to ask you something. Have you heard anything about your twin sister?”

The lady shook her head. “I have not heard anything. I was adopted by a family that kept experimenting with my body. I had never heard of having a biological sibling before until I met our Mistress.”

“Ugh...It hurts that I was not there for you for over two hundred years.” Weiss sighed disappointedly. “One last question, What is your name given by the Boss Lady?”

“The Mistress named me Judgement Caster. The name I was given by my foster family was Charlotte Brontë.”

“Charlotte huh…” Weiss tapped her chin, thinking. “Alright from now on I am going to call you Charlotte. Sometimes differently too, depending on the situation but, mostly Charlotte.”

“Sometimes differently?”

“Yeah, like Charlie or Char or Lotte.”

“What a silly thing to do.”

“Well that’s how your mother is, a serious and emotionless person on the outside, but a silly, caring, and loving person on the inside. Of course only a select few know my true self, and I tend to keep it that way. I am an Assassin slash Nurse anyway.” Weiss giggled.

“I see…” Charlotte’s voice trailed away as she listened. “That said, mother, I will need to go back soon.”

“Alright, I need to rest too. Most of my modules are not repaired yet.” Weiss patted her daughter gently. “Remember that if you need me, I’ll be there. ”

“Would it be too much to ask for you to come with me back to London?”

“Of course I’ll come back to London with you, once everything in my body is fixed that is. But first I need to seek out your sister. She is also somewhere in the country of England.”

“Let us find her together, shall we? I also have to seek out Mary…”

“Sure, I have no knowledge about England but I’ll manage. I did do missions there ages ago.”

Charlotte chuckled. “I will help you manage. Might as well stay in my manor for some time too.”

“Perfect!” Weiss giggled and hugged Charlotte.

“You are so clingy…”

“Can’t I? Mothers are always like that. With you being here already makes me happy.”

“I suppose I do not mind.”

“Ehehe… thank you.”

In the end, Aramus got to fly all the way back to California to MVA’s headquarters before he got himself back to Christopher’s office.

“Oh, got back, did you?” Chris said, but he was busy with a drumstick in front of him. He placed it down. “I mean, hey my disciple.”

“Director,” Aramus said with a hint of a smile. “Or should I call you teacher from now on? Thank you for the vote of confidence at the Summit. You’ve given me the chance to make amends.”

“It’s Master Chris for you, young man! And you better be thankful! Those bastards put me up for vampires. I don’t even know if they’ll sell Indian food wherever we have to go.”

“Understood, Master Chris. As my first task as your disciple, I shall search for Indian food wherever we may be assigned.” Aramus smiled before turning serious. “My second task will be to inform you to watch out for the Pope.”

“Huh? The Pope you say? Either way, you’re a good guy as long as you watch out for the Indian goodies. Well, maybe Italian will do in case Indian can’t be found. Oh and, don’t forget, after Italians comes the Chinese. Oh, oh, and then the Thai cuisines. Can’t miss out on those, either.”

”Yes, Master Chris,” Aramus said with a shake of his head but mentally noted his preferences down. “But please, believe me when I say that his words earlier were lies.”

“Huh? Lies? We’ve worked with him for ages, I don’t think he’d lie to us.”

“Even if I told you I saw him with the Countess? If it wasn’t the Pope, then that man must have been lucky to have the same face,” Aramus said, his fists trembling with barely restrained anger.

“So the Pope personally came to slay the Countess you say?”

“No,” Aramus almost continued but caught himself. He looked at the door with Aural Vision, seeing through it and finding no other signatures of people. There was however, a spell that was in effect when a quick check was done on the room. What spell it was, he couldn’t quite identify. “What I tell you is as important as what we discussed earlier, if not even more so. There’s a spell cast over this room and I can’t say it if we’re being monitored.”

“Ahhhhh! Hahaha! I just realized that I’m really hungry!” Chris said particularly loudly, catching Aramus’ head with his arm. “Let’s go out and eat. To celebrate, yeah? C’mon, son.”

Caught as he was, Aramus couldn’t do much but yelp as his new teacher dragged him out of the room.







“So you’re saying the Pope is clearly the bad guy?” Chris said, calm and taciturn now as he listened and reviewed Aramus’ words. “Tell me the whole story. We policemen don’t take any small bits as the full story.”

Aramus looked pained for only a moment before he made his decision. “Before the final battle with Virgo, we ran into the Countess’s Representative. Claudia, my younger †˜sister’ at the orphanage where I spent a few years. There were three of us; Michael, an Executor from the Church, Mary Shelley and myself. At Mary’s request, she alone duelled with Claudia but was defeated.”

Christopher made a mental note about Mary as he listened, as the Queen mentioned that she was reported missing.

Remembering those painful memories made his voice choke and he covered it up by taking a sip of water. “We tried, Michael and I, to save her but we weren’t strong enough. Then the Countess showed up. It was a lost cause but she didn’t press her advantage and instead, stopped Claudia. At that time, a portal opened up and there was a chain linked to Mary’s neck.”

He remembered vividly the chain breaking away and then Mary dissolving in his very arms, and Aramus closed his eyes.

“Thereupon stepped out Jesus Christ as addressed by the Countess or the Pope when he refered to himself. He claimed Mary as his property but at that point, Michael and I were unable to do anything. She faded away in my hands…”

Christopher looked down with a sad face. “Jesus Christ… another Descendant you’re trying to say? Mary Shelley was a popular person, actress, mage, and a subject among people’s gossips. To think she is gone. I suppose the Queen knew but didn’t reveal the truth.”

“Indeed, she was all that. She was also our mother. The three of us there were family,” Aramus said weakly, giving Christopher a hollowed look. “How ironic to be reunited and separated in mere moments. She was his Representative you know, that bastard, and yet he still treated her this way.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you three were family? The Representative Mary’s children… I can’t help but say it was a hand of cruel fate.”

“If you require the proof, I will show it to you in private. But if there is someone I can never forgive, it would be that monster. I believe he still holds my mother in his thrall somehow from the way he spoke, and I will retrieve her. Now my brother is lost and my remaining family remains out of reach, but I will endure. Master, I tell you this because I trust you. You’ve done more than enough for me thus far, and I would not see you done in by the scheming of that bastard. He didn’t bother lifting a finger against the Countess or her Representative!”

“...I see,” Chris said with a shaking voice. “Tell me about your family. What else were you told?”

“My father still lives but where he is, I know not. My mother said he was travelling somewhere. As for my sister, she is a student at… the Eastern Magic Academy. One of my own,” Aramus said softly. “Michael is my half-brother, sired by none other than the Pope himself. This is all she told me before she passed. I was… left on the streets, but now I know who to blame. The Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ, crock of bullshit.”

“The Virgin Mary huh…? You know what? Let’s get to the bottom of this. You and I. I don’t like what I’m hearing at all.”

“I was going to stay silent until I could relay this to Her Majesty. Regardless of whether she knows or not, I believe it best to report it to her. If she decided to act, at least we would have support from England. No doubt the Church will become enemies. I’m fine with that but, Master, are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s my job as an Archmage to be the bullshit detector anyway. The Queen, however, is not as free as I am, so careful with what you want to do with the information. The Queen can’t just help you out easily considering the Church is a big part of England.”

“I have troubled her enough as it is. With this recent failure, I do not feel worthy of being in the presence of Her Majesty.”

“You will be one day, son. Once I take a pupil up, I plan to make them a star. Let’s see how far we go. I aim to take you all the way to Archmagedom.”

“A-Archmage!? Me? Master, you rate me too highly,” Aramus said, waving his hands before him in denial. “Would not others be as or more capable? More importantly, how can I become one after that farce with Virgo?”

“Who said I did? Your rate is so bad right now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get there later. Everyone gives up before the start line is even seen, jeez. It’s like saying you don’t want Indian food even it’s cooked.” Chris shook his head in dismay. “Title and deeds do go hand in hand. Skills, however, are another matter altogether.”

“I do not need a fancy title to do good,” Aramus said in a soft voice. “So long as I can do my part for those around me and more, that is enough. In this scenario, it would be to grow strong enough to prevent Virgo from attempting another attack or something similar. If the title comes along the way then…”

“Ah, but title is what makes the man, oh and privileges. Bossing people around is cool if you get used to it. I think stopping Virgo alone will remain an impossibility, so learning to coordinate with any kind of people is going to be an important quality.”

“Like sneaking out for Indian food? I could get used to that,” Aramus said with a laugh. “I’m not so foolish as to fight her alone but...” Aramus counted the number of Descendants he had fought with using his hands, showing the number to his master. “I’ve gone through this many… somehow. Dumb luck perhaps.”

“Yeah, the important part. Yep. No but seriously though, you can look into things with your men and all; it’s handy. One man can only do so much.”

“Will you be doing this personally or through the MVA? Or maybe the Space Police?” Aramus asked.

“The Space Police perhaps… I can’t get the MVA into an international issue easily. Wish I could. That said, we get out of this country tomorrow, and gosh. I know you mentioned it before, but you have my condolences for facing all these Descendants. I’d love to hear the details sometime.”

“It is… quite alright master. Trouble always seems to find me so I’m afraid you might have gotten more than what your bargained for when you took me as a disciple, though I’ll try to make it up to you with food.” Aramus gave his mentor a grin.

“Not really, fighting Descendants makes you a treasure trove of knowledge already. We can make records of the Descendants’ Commandments and even make notes about strategies. Ten though… you know, I’m sure at least some of those have been missing for over a millennia, like Jesus.”

“I should pen them down somewhere, but what little things I had are in the Eastern Academy. My charge remains there under their watch as well, a young boy named Almond.”

“We’ll go back to the Academy but not any time soon, unfortunately. The jobs takes priority. Let’s hope your sister and the young boy remains for another year there safely.”

“I understand.”

Embarking on this path took him one small step closer to bringing his mother back, yet it forced him away from other important things. A time when he did not report in to Her Majesty, Aramus would never have thought of such a thing.

The waiter came with a bunch of plates full of food.

“Alright, for now let’s just eat. We have a lot to do starting tomorrow. Make sure you get rest. I’m sure it’s been tiresome.”

Aramus got into a private plane and was escorted to the Crystal Summit. The Magister watched the waters of the Pacific Ocean as he was made to wait for the verdict that would heavily impact his future. All kinds of bad and pessimistic thoughts invaded his mind and he assumed the worst. Obviously, anyone in his situation would likely think that way, even though the Crystal Paladins that came with him seemed to not care, much less make fun of him or even speak about him. They went on and on about politics of the Magic World.

Resigned to his fate no matter what it may be, Aramus tried to listen to what they were talking about. Although he was a Magister and had spent time working under the Royal Council, he had only been a part of England’s Magic World. Anything about the other countries would’ve been news to him, especially with what had just transpired.

The paladins spoke about all kinds of matters under the field of politics. The recent actions the Queen took to gather the forces, the reactions from the Organizations and whatnot. Some seemed to think the Queen was up to illegal deeds to get her way, apparently.

It seemed like Japan officially had three Time Warriors under its belt and the friction between the warring countries would be getting worse.

“What a time to be alive,” Aramus muttered to himself. Alice, Hynek and Natsu. Now that it seemed things were going this way, the remaining would begin to take sides in the conflict. With the reappearance of Arthur, England gained another, but how many did England truly have on its side?

The aircraft soon started to descend but Aramus was confused. There was nothing but water below them. As they lowered considerably closer to the salty water surface, a blue and pristine floor rose up to let the plane land. Moments later, the paladins opened the hatch and Aramus was told to come out.

When the Magister came out, he stood atop crystal itself. He marveled at what he saw some distance away from the crystal helipad. The entire structure that was the Crystal Summit rose up from the water itself. It was apparently hidden and submerged. The structure shined against the sun, and its shape reminded him of the ancient greek temples with its fluted columns and their ornate capitals. A long road and a wide staircase awaited him.

“All this under the sea. Amazing,” Aramus breathed as he reached down to touch the crystals, the mineral gleaming as he ran a hand over it. As much as he wanted to study more of it, Aramus reminded himself that he was here as a prisoner and resumed walking down the long road.

As Aramus crossed the road and the stairs, he could only continue to feel despair now. The Crystals Paladins seemed to leer at him as he passed by a new set of guards at the entrance. Inside the large palace, the walls were full of complicated carvings.

There seemed to be something like a large and gleaming blue orb in the middle as he was made to cross a spiral staircase leading all the way to the top. The most interesting part of the design was that the walls were transparent from the inside but definitely appeared solid on the outside at the same time.

“I would like to meet the person responsible for all this,” Aramus muttered as he ascended the staircase, observing whatever there was to see for future reference. That and the fact that it was breathtaking.

For hours, Aramus spent walking up the stairs. It was impossibly long. Scratch the Japanese Temples and their stairs, those were nothing compared to it all. It was like he was being punished already.

Ok, you know what, now I want to meet the designer even more just to see what kind of person would design this. Why would you have such a ridiculously long staircase? His sweat dripped onto the steps. He heaved deep breaths as he tried to find his second wind. After a brief reprieve, Aramus painstakingly continued climbing.

After another hour, Aramus was finally there in front of a door. When he looked back, he was alone and the two guards that followed him were gone.

Stepping forward, Aramus knocked and announced his presence. What awaited him on the other side set his nerves buzzing. Who could it be? He waited with bated breath.

“Enter,” a voice from the other side said.

Pushing the door open, Aramus stepped in.

When Aramus came inside, he saw many openings across the large hall that showed the clear blue sky. The crystals were not transparent here and he noted something like a barrier on the corners, possibly for the openings that the crystals didn’t seemed to cover. Before him was a large space that lead who knew how many hundred meters down to the sea underneath. He’d not want to fall from the edge he approached.

Looking around, he spotted ten pointed-edges much farther above than him, unlike his that was more round. He guessed that in each of these spots different Archmages would appear. In the middle of the large hole was a floating statue. It was an old man made with crystals, and he wasn’t really sure who it was.

The walls were enveloped by a black cloud of sorts and there were mixed colorful particles floating about. Mana, he believed. The meeting was now in session. Each of the Archmages started to form as blue particles gathered in each of the spots some distance before him.

“We present to the te—nine Archmages for judgement to be rendered upon the guilty, Aramus Valmark.”

The voice echoed, and Aramus could only leave his fate up to the nine mages.

He recognized the Queen in the very middle, Christopher and Nicholas on the far edges. A blonde woman wearing really revealing attire… a halter and shorts? This sight made the Magister blush. He continued to look and found one empty spot. This was where Margaret Alicia used to likely appear. The others included an exotic man wearing a crown, another with a very showy dress like a magician from a theatre, and a charming young girl wearing a hat—her outfit made it seem as though she was out for a picnic.

Aramus looked to the very left. There was one old man supported by a cane, and someone he truly loathed—Jesus Christ. He ground his teeth in frustration but looked towards the front, back ramrod straight. Aramus would not allow that man to see him laid low.

“Magister Aramus Valmark was reported for having withheld important information from the Royal Council, and all the Magic Organizations related to the mission to terminate Virgo. The Magic Organizations include a total of one-hundred-and-eight if we count the numbers that had sent members,” the voice of a Crystal Paladin informed the Archmages.

The old man spoke, “So I suppose he comes to us since it concerned the entire world?”

“Yes,” Victoria answered.

“Hmm… it is just information, you sure he didn’t oversleep and forgot?” Shakespeare responded.

“Father, I think that is pretty irresponsible. Information can be worth more than the gold you make from steel if it is important,” Titania stated from beside the famous writer.

“Ah, but daughter, you must note that experience is what makes life dramatic! Knowing things beforehand is called getting spoiled.”

“But father…”

“Well,” Calamity Witch began, yawning. “Let’s just say that this isn’t your theatre performance.” She found herself rubbing her eyes and pointy ears. “What do you have to say about this, Magister Aramus Valmark?”

“There is nothing I wish to say in my defense. The fault lies squarely with me that I failed to deliver crucial information, regardless of whether we could have prevented Virgo from using her Commandments,” Aramus said, turning to face the Witch with a steely gaze.

“There you have it,” the old man said. “Let’s finish this, I guess.”

“I… would like to volunteer to take care of Aramus Valmark rather than have him locked in a Crystal Prism,” Christopher said.

“Oh?”

“He is a talented mage and a fighter. When the world is overridden by Descendants we cannot just toss talented men inside prisons. I’ll make him my disciple. To make up for it, I’ll also have him apply for the Space Police… if that is alright, Your Majesty and Witch,” Christopher said, most of it was spoken while facing the Queen rather than the old man who questioned him.

The Calamity Witch gave a nod.

“Let us vote,” Victoria responded.

“Very well, let’s wrap it up as usual,” the old man said.

There seemed to be something like a beacon, a prism that shined under the platform of the Queen. The same took place for Christopher, Nicholas, Calamity Witch, and Shakespeare. The rest abstained and didn’t vote yes or no. In short, some cared and some didn’t.

The Crystal Paladin thus announced, “The votes indicate that the Magic Magister Aramus Valmark shall be placed under the care of Christopher Bradley.”

Aramus closed his eyes pensively, thankful for the chance given to him. The feeling of failure hung heavily on him and he suspected that it would for a long time to come, but at least he could now begin to atone for it.

“With that out of the way, let’s get on with our schedule, shall we?” the old man said, tossing Aramus’ matter aside as if it wasn’t really important. It probably wasn’t to most of the people here.

“Demon cleaning as usual on our side,” Christopher reported. “Lots of criminals. Virgo devastating the U.S. is going to make things really bad for us of course, you all know that.”

“Aries left our country. Not sure if that’s a good news or not,” Nicholas reported, shrugging.

“You idiots, that’s obviously bad,” the old man snapped. “Your job was to keep him there and minimize the damages since there were two of you to take care of him.”

“With all due respect, Elder,” Nicholas began, “Aries could break an entire neighborhood in five minutes before we’d even notice. There was no way to minimize any of it.”

The Queen giggled. “Ah, but I suppose you two could team up and stop him… or would you brothers simply end up in a quarrel?”

“Likely the latter, Your Majesty,” Chris said in jest.

“Says the guy who’d have Indian food while I’m scouting.” Nicholas scoffed.

“And flirt with some woman?” Calamity Witch added.

“That too,” Nicholas agreed.

All of the Archmages laughed. Aramus did inwardly as well, not like he’d be crazy enough to laugh out loud right now.

“It is a good man’s job to flirt, I must admit.” Calamity Witch gave a nod.

Christopher winked. “Glad you get it.”

“No you don’t!” Nicholas huffed, feeling betrayed.

“I must report that Virgo has hid herself in America,” Victoria started. “There were spiritual energy readings, but after the incident of the shard of the moon coming down, we cannot track her, unfortunately.”

“That’s probably why she bombed the United States,” Nicholas guessed. “That way the entire country is full of spiritual energy, and it gets harder to track anything.”

“What about the task we assigned to you, Your Majesty?” the old man inquired Victoria.

“Japan indeed prepares for war. I cannot say how far their plans have advanced, but I fear we have a year or two before we clash with them again.”

“That soon?” Titania questioned, very surprised. “I thought the estimate was at least three years.”

“I do not know how, but they are advancing at a much greater pace,” Victoria answered. “I shall have my agents continue their investigations.”

“On my side, the distortion in space is getting worse. I don’t know who did this but clearly whatever spell was employed was likely a Supreme spell,” Calamity Witch informed. “Titania can confirm this.”

“Yes, I conducted the investigation with the Witch and it turns out that someone is rapidly misusing spells that open passages to the Astral Realm to a disturbing extent. A city was reported missing, but we’ve decided to keep that news under the wraps for the moment.”

His eyes widening ever so slightly, Aramus stole a glance over at both speakers. Cities disappearing? There was more happening around him that was never ever passed down. Even if they did manage to fix the distortion, there was no guarantee those lost would return.

“A Supreme spell…” The old man looked up to Victoria. “There is only one we know…”

“I assure you that it is not my daughter,” Victoria stated with full confidence.

“In our case, we managed to thwart some smuggling and human trafficking attempts by the vampire terrorists. It seems like the Countess did break past our borders with influence,” King Abdullah said.

“I bear good news for once,” Shakespeare said, spreading his arms dramatically. “Aries went to Japan. There were powerful waves sent out as a result of him expending his powers.”

“...Is that really a good news?” the Queen questioned.

“Of course. Your enemy would be taking the brunt of the blow.”

“I see…” Victoria managed, looking down.

Although Aramus could see the logic in that, he could not bring himself to take it as good news as it just meant other people were dying to the renegade Descendant.

“I suppose it’s my turn,” the old man began. “I have to apologize to everyone. While I agreed to temporarily take over for our late and beloved Margaret Alicia, I couldn’t find a fitting replacement for our lost member.”

Again, Aramus perked his ears up at this as he raised his head slightly to regard the old man.

“I think it is safe to say that we will not find a tenth Archmage any time soon,” Jesus said. In here, however, he was known as the Pope.

“Well, Sir Pope, there are some talented ones at least out there… I expected some of the Dukes and Duchesses. They are getting better with the new law regarding Supreme Spells, but they have a long way to go.”

“Indeed. It takes quite a lot of time to truly master magic,” the Pope said in a matter-of-factly fashion.

“So, anything to report on your side?”

“We almost had the Representative of the vampires, but she escaped. You have my utmost apologies. Soon, I hope she will be caught. I am sure my best apprentice will succeed.”

“Mary Shelley is reported missing, Sir Pope,” Queen Victoria said with disdain, not turning her glance to his side.

“Oh dear, you are more informed than I had assumed, Your Majesty. I suppose the news spread like fire, I did not wanted to worry the crowd.”

“It is natural for one to keep tabs on their friends.”

“I suppose this is it for the meeting, unless anyone else has a piece of their mind to talk for?” the old asked.

“Actually, there is one matter I would like to bring up,” Victoria said. “It is suspected that the Countess and Virgo are working together.”

“What?!” King Abdullah was the first to shout as a response.

“The coordination was mostly blanketed, but there are signs of the vampires being prepared for the entire charade that Virgo created… I would thank Mary Shelley, who reported this finding.”

“No wonder the Diabolics started doing their rituals around the same time… so it was all a ploy!” Christopher said, kicking the floor.

“I see, if that is so then the vampires are the ones helping the Diabolics… it makes sense. Why didn’t I think of this before?” Nicholas stated. “They were technically Infernal denizens so of course they’d know about the rituals and teach the mundanes.”

“Nick and I will look into this,” Chris said, but Nicholas shook his head.

“You got an apprentice and all. I’ll take care of this, brother. So, stop making it problematic for me here and go help with other problems.”

“How heartless of you, bro!”

“Ohoho, that means you’re free, right, Christopher?” the old man smirked as he questioned, and Chris knew that he had been lead into a trap by his own brother.

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great, we’re gonna have you and your apprentice cracking down on these vampire terrorists with the illegal businesses. I’m sure the King will be pleased.”

“I would appreciate it,” Abdullah said.

Chris sighed. It was too late, the scheme had done him in. His Indian food would be cut low now that his brother wouldn’t be with him. “Alright, I got it,” he said dejectedly.

Aramus had scowled when the Pope had nonchalantly spoken about Claudia, wanting very much to glare at the man. Not even the banter after that could reduce the anger rising in him at the Descendant, but now was not the time. Subconsciously, Aramus noted that he might face her again with his new appointment.

“Alright. Meeting adjourned.”

Walking down the stair’s steps, the brown carpet came into view, as well as the luxurious furniture, something she used to enjoy sitting on and speaking with Marco, the Countess, and Rose some time ago. Memories already flushed into her mind but she pushed them aside. Claudia approached a sofa and sat down next to the Countess. Opposite to them was someone she never saw before.

“...Okay, I’ll bite,” Claudia began, using common knowledge as her ally. “Crimson Rafflesia, I presume?”

“That’s Master Crimson to you, young girl,” the cold-looking woman said, not even letting the Countess speak.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Claudia said, half-scowling.

“At least try to smile.”

“Who, me or Master Crimson over here? You might as well be talking to us both.”

“It’s your job to be a good and well-behaving student, and mine to be strict.”

“Tch… well-behaving, she says… to a terrorist of all people.” Claudia folded one leg over the other and looked away. “So from what the Countess says, I will be under your wing for the next year?”

“More than a year. I doubt you can complete your training that fast.”

“Oh, that’s fan-fucking-tastic.”

“You have a terrible mouth.”

“And that’s a problem? Jesus Christ, I can tell you’re gonna pester me to no end about something so small.”

“You have attitude problems, show no respect,” Crimson Rafflesia said, looking down at how Claudia sat before she continued, “You are literally over the top of your stupid head, you also seem to think your opinion matters. If pestering is a big concern I think you’ll be in for a surprise, child.”

“Wow, scathing. Like I give a shit,” Claudia huffed, staring her new Master in the eye. “If what you say is true, then I welcome it; I’m calling your bluff. Once we get to this camp or whatever the fuck, I want you to give me the fullest extent of what you have in store.”

“Just don’t regret it, you overconfident bluffer.”

“Only thing I’m regretting is talking to you when we could be gone by now.”

“…I had a few things to say, okay my dear?” the Countess finally spoke, making a very wry smile.

“Well, let’s hear it. Anything for you, my Countess,” Claudia said with a nod.

“While you’re training her, Rafflesia, I want you to look into some things,” the Countess began, showing a map on her tablet phone device. “There are several instances where our trade routes are being blocked or intercepted, which is rather rare. Can I leave it to you and your new apprentice?”

“Yes, Mistress. I shall look into it with my pupil.”

“Oh, and don’t kill this apprentice too.”

“That depends solely on herself.”

Claudia snorted, letting a dark smile form.

“Is that a threat?”

“What do you think?”

“...Call me crazy, but I think I like you already.”

“If you’ve packed your things already? We can be off.”

“Yes, Master Crimson,” Claudia said with a sneer, pulling her suitcase from behind the sofa and setting it next to her. Of course, it was all filled with clothes and hentai, knowing her.

“Don’t †˜yes’ her just yet,” Iris said, coming up to Claudia from behind. “You forgot about this.” The alchemist handed the relic scythe to her.

With a smirk, Claudia accepted her weapon as if a piece of her had just been returned. The Representative nodded to Iris and said her thanks.

“You remain on my good side, Iris.”

“Good luck,” the alchemist said.

“You will need it,” Rose said, coming down from the stairs too.

“More importantly, never forget to have fun.” The Countess simply smiled as usual. “Also, smoking from hookahs is still better than those measly cigarettes.”

“Which means I have to get myself one, then,” Claudia said, taking that into account. “Countess, Rose, Iris; good luck with everything while I’m gone. I’ll miss you all.” She gave her allies a tentative bow and smiled to each of them. It felt like she was never going to see them again with this.

“You better not fail us after coming back,” Rose said in jest while Iris simply gave a nod.

“It’s not quite healthy to share those anyway,” the Countess said with her usual devilish giggle. “We’ll make sure to work things out. See you in a year, dear.”

“See ya…” Claudia waved to her comrades, hefting her belongings and following her teacher afterwards.

The Representative of the Countess dipped into the bathtub, letting the running water calm her nerves. With a sigh– maybe for the third time today– she reclined her head and stared into the ceiling, the events from the day still lush in her mind.

She said that she was over it, but something about what Saggitarius said upon George’s death bothered her.

“Something about the void? All this time and I still don’t know what it means. It kind of sounded like a threat but, call me crazy, I think it might lead into something more.” Swiping her wet hair from her eyes, Claudia then concluded, “But then I might be thinking too far into things. I’m a wreck, that’s what I am.”

Using a rag to wash herself, Claudia absently thought of Charlotte.

Why on earth was she there of all places? And with Virgo of all people? She looked almost as crazy as I am when she told Mary to kill me.

“Glad to know where we stand as friends, Charlotte,” she said with resignation in her voice. “Too many people to kill. It makes me both excited and tired to know the exact amount.”

Claudia peered into her hand, a little irritated that her bruises hadn’t healed yet. She was too stressed for her own good. Perhaps she could pick up a pack of cigarettes in the morning. Gods know why she had gotten into that dreadful habit of all things. Maybe curiosity.

This was all Cosette’s fault, she thought. The damned woman was too much of a thorn in her side. She was already having second thoughts about wanting her around. Claudia was halfway to the point of lashing out at her next.

She was so tired. The bags from both crying and lack of sleep weighed down on her. Claudia just wanted to rest.

“Speaking of stress…”

She traced her hand along her cleavage.

“I haven’t done that a while…”

It only took her a second to think of a face–the Countess’, of course–and a sprinkle of her own depraved imagination for the Vampire to get started. She let out a pleased sigh as her slightly bruised hand moved back and forth through the bath water, in between her legs.

“Fuck…” she silently swore into the ceiling. “Countess…”

(GM Comment: Note how she asked why Marco called out the Countess’ name at the end. In the end, everyone in the Organization likes the Countess. Lol. Ironylord award goes to Claudia. Again.)

She shuffled about, gyrating her hips towards her fingers. As she closed her eyes, the images of her beloved Mistress’ face was prominent in her mind. Never mind the fact that she appeared like a child, not that Claudia minded—it was the idea of how powerful she was which got her off. Like earlier today when the Countess—

“Oh my God—”

Her breaths increased pace. The very image of this new Countess—her true form, apparently—made Claudia go mad. As if she wasn’t already vexed by her usual appearance. To think this was the woman that was the sworn enemy of all the other Descendants, possibly even beyond their ilk. And she wanted Claudia of all people to be a Heroine, that much was enough to make her go wild.

At this point, Claudia didn’t even care who heard her moan from outside the bathroom. The image of her Countess’ true form was simply too much.

With that, she sighed, relieved. Reclining in the bath, she concluded, “I’ll do everything in my power to become a Heroine… and to see the Countess in that form again—no, I’ll become her lover. I swear on my life, I will…”

Claudia was finally back home. Not a permanent residence she knew of, but the place she had been staying in before the entire event had begun. The two-storey house felt so much more emptier now with George and Marco gone. Catherine was still as bright and nonchalant as ever, as she claimed that she’d be going to freshen up and relax.

Rose was being taken care of by Ansel while Iris started work with the scythe immediately. Apparently the scythe was still imperfect and required maintenance.

Wordlessly, Claudia traveled to her room. When Cosette found her inside, she started cleaning up Claudia without any command with a handkerchief. Cosette thanked whoever that was kind enough to dress Claudia’s wound, making things easier for her.

Sighing, Claudia reclined in her chair. A distant scowl overcame her expression. “What a mess,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “This did not go how I wanted at all.”

“Lady Claudia, you should change first and foremost. Your clothes are the real mess,” Cosette advised.

“Right…” Standing up from her chair, the Representative padded over to her closet and found a newer, less-tattered outfit persisting of a button-up shirt and a skirt. In a single, effortless motion, she slipped off her jacket, and everything else she wore and dropped them onto the floor.

Cosette took out the freshly cleaned outfit for Claudia and started helping her put on the dress.

Claudia would have mumbled her thanks, really she would have, but the whole battle had left her drained. The incident with Mary, losing Marco and George—almost Rose, too. The only upside was killing Powlett.

Oh, and her tiara, but she had already gotten over that. Truthfully, she had gotten over all of that. But why was she still mulling?

“Yo, Cosette. What’s your take on all this?” she asked out of the blue.

“ ...On what, my lady?” Cosette asked. “I am not really fully versed with the incidents that took place. Since I did not partake in the operation.”

“Figured the Countess would let you in on everything. My bad,” Claudia said.

“You only just returned. I have not had the pleasure to speak to the mistress.”

“True.” Claudia pursed her lips and sighed once more. “Well, you’ll see that it’s much, much emptier outside...we lost a few people—George and Marco.” Claudia scuffled up her hair with slight frustration once she said that.

“It’s just two, my lady. Someone like our mistress would replace them quick but… I pay my condolences. You loved Marco, yes?”

“Yeah. Next to the Countess, he might’ve been the first person I thought I would love unconditionally...” Claudia managed, clenching her fist with rage bubbling up. “…Turns out Marco didn’t feel the same!” Suddenly, she kicked the chair she previously sat in, driving it into the wall, and it broke into multiple pieces.

“He… he did not feel the same? But he was so caring and considerate of your condition—”

“No, truly the sad son of a bitch only cared for the Countess’ courtship,” Claudia answered. “Did I do something wrong? Did I make a mistake? Why? Why the fuck is the Countess capable of receiving the love of others, but I’m not?! All respect due, she’s no better a person than I am!”

“You should know the answer better than anyone else. You were seduced the first thing you knew, as far as I had heard.”

Claudia wanted to summon Lachesis’ Fang and go to town on her room, but she remembered that Iris was still working on it. Instead she swore as loudly as she could and drove her fist into the wall. If it weren’t for her Vampirism, her hand would have been broken.

“Fuck it. I had forgotten that Catherine has a knack for being so alluring; i’m not mad about that. No—the reason I’m mad is that he accepted me, but called out the Countess’ name as his last words. He didn’t even give a shit about me.” Claudia exhaled loudly, regaining her composure. “I guess that’s how it goes then.”

“With all due respect, my lady, he might’ve been longing for the mistress much longer before he even met you. Your relationship with him lasted but a month or three, the relationship with the mistress was likely much, much longer… honestly though, throwing tantrums about his last word rather than mourning for him?”

“I’m done mourning for people. Emotions like that will only leave me to be in the same positions I was in many times before—crying, sniffling, running to my fucking Countess for mental upkeep. No more. I’m done.” Claudia clapped the remnants of the wall from her hand, looking at her servant with a scowl. “I should know of all people that when it comes to immortality, people die. On that note, my heart bleeds for humanity no longer.”

(GM Comment: †˜My’ Countess, she says.)

“Then stop throwing tantrums like a child? I am sure an immortal has no need for such mundane things. Am I correct?”

“Tch, whatever. I’m going to take a bath,” Claudia said, walking away. “You should’ve waited before putting this outfit on me, by the way.”

“My mistake. I shall keep the bath in mind next time.”