The ancient map was an artifact that accurately reflected changes to the landscape in real time. Suimei believed it to be definite and absolute, yet for some reason... this location wasn’t marked on it. When he’d asked the leader about it, the only answer he’d gotten was Nettesheim’s trademark smile and the ominous words, “You’ll figure it out when you get there.”
This place, however, was where an old friend of Nettesheim’s lived. “Old friend” had been Nettesheim’s own words, which Suimei regarded as highly suspicious. The leader of the Society, you see, called anyone and everyone who shared his ideals a friend. Those who adored him, those who chased after him, those who blindly idolized him... They were all friends to him without exception.
So was the person waiting for Suimei truly Nettesheim’s friend? Was it an old disciple? A follower who revered him like a god? Suimei could only wonder.
That wasn’t the only thing that struck him as odd about this mission, however. More importantly, Nettesheim had specifically told Suimei to go and “pick up” his assistant. That made it sound like said assistant was a familiar. Suimei didn’t possess the abilities or mana to contract a familiar, and Nettesheim knew that full well.
Perhaps it was one that could be summoned only when needed, but fundamentally, Suimei had no interest in having a familiar standing at the ready at all times. This was also something that Nettesheim knew full well.
So why, exactly, had Nettesheim implied what he did? What was the meaning behind his choice of words? Suimei pondered this as he walked, but the end of the stone path came before an answer ever did.
“So this is...”
A large, old, Neo-Renaissance-style house stood before him. The sun was currently hiding behind the clouds, and the walls stretching from the front gate reflected its dull light. Because of that, the entire area appeared to be awash in grayscale, giving it a rather curious aesthetic.
Nevertheless, Suimei approached the gate. It was a large, majestic structure that matched the size and splendor of the manor. It was made of wrought steel that looked like it had been burned pitch black, and it was adorned with cogwheels, pendulums, and such as though it had been modeled after the inner workings of a clock or some other simple machine.
Suimei used the knocker on the gate and a pleasant, metallic ringing sound reverberated straight towards the door of the house. The old magician’s estate naturally had a mysterious air to it, including the clearly magickal knocker.
It wasn’t long before the front door of the house creaked open, peeling away at the darkness inside. The intervening sunlight revealed a girl in a lovely apron dress with light brown hair flowing down her back. She appeared to be younger than Suimei based on her height and features, but her somewhat transparent expression seemed quite cold.
She approached the gate, picked up the hem of her dress, and elegantly curtsied. Suimei politely began to introduce himself in return, but...
“I’m—”
“Yakagi Suimei of the Society, right? We’ve been expecting you.”
“I see.”
The girl touched the gate and a metallic sound rang out like the gears of a clock had suddenly engaged. It was followed by ticking as the zerol gears around the heavy steel gate began revolving as it swung open, dragging itself across the ground.
The noise of it all resounded through the mountains. Birds scattered from distant trees, the sound of their flapping wings echoing back toward the estate. But as the cacophony died down and the gate finished opening, the girl held her hand out towards the manor in a welcoming gesture.
“My father is waiting inside. Please come this way.”
There, Suimei looked the girl in the eyes.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Where are we?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean... whose house is this?”
“It couldn’t be... Were you not informed?”
Her surprise was perfectly natural. After all, it was only normal for someone to know where they were going before they made the trip there.
“I’m sorry. Our leader can be quite impish,” Suimei confessed dejectedly.
“I see,” the girl sighed in understanding. “Allow me to guide you, then. This is the Alzbayne Clockwork Doll Workshop.”
“Alzbayne? So this is...”
It was the workshop of the elusive puppeteer. Suimei took another look at the estate. As the sun peeked through the clouds, the red of the previously grayscale manor seemed to come back to life.
★
“Puppeteer” was the proper title for magicians who used or created puppets and dolls. There were many puppeteers throughout the ages, but only a single one had ever earned the prestige of being called the Doll Master by the Thousand Nights Association. That man was none other than Edgar Alzbayne.
It was said that he’d earned the name because of the masterful quality of his work. The dolls made by his hands were without peer. No puppeteer could surpass him. Moreover, the dolls created in his workshop every few years always accomplished great things with the masters they were entrusted to.
And so his reputation as the Doll Master had persisted for over a hundred years. Suimei quietly recalled all the stories he’d ever heard about Alzbayne as he and passed through the majestic front gate of his estate. He then followed the girl up to the manor and into the dimly-lit entrance hall.
Suimei took a look around, somewhat overwhelmed by the majestic double staircase before him. Inside the manor was decorated with brand new-looking furniture that belied its aged exterior. He could tell how scrupulously maintained the place was at a glance.
All seemed to be in perfect order except for the chandelier directly overhead, which only emitted a gloomy light. Its dim, colored glass bulbs—coated in mana—were restricting their shine, making it difficult to really see the bisque dolls that sat atop the furniture around the room. Suimei wanted to get a better look at them, seeing as how they were the creations of the famed Edgar Alzbayne, but...
Suddenly, the girl turned around to look at Suimei, who had stopped in his tracks. She then glanced up at the ceiling where he had just been looking.
“What’s the matter?” he asked her.
“Suimei-sama, a strong light reveals things that one does not wish others to see. Maidens especially dislike such scrutinizing gazes from a gentleman.”
“Maidens...?”
Suimei muttered to himself in confusion. It seemed at first that she was begging consideration for herself, but she’d spoken in the plural. Suimei was baffled as to who she really meant, and furrowed his brow accordingly. Seeing this, the girl lowered casually glanced over to one of the bisque dolls.
“Ah, you meant them...”
“Yes. As such, if you care to admire their looks, they’d much prefer it if you did so in this lighting.”
I get it. All the dolls here are treated as if they’re alive.
“Well, I suppose it’s impolite to stare, isn’t it?”
“You’re ever so considerate, Suimei-sama.”
With that, the girl quietly began walking again. After ascending the double staircase, they came out into a hallway lined with a long, red Persian rug and illuminated with a much warmer light. Proceeding forward, the girl showed Suimei to a room at the end of the hall. She then stood to the side of it and bowed.
“Here?” Suimei asked.
“Yes. The master awaits you inside,” the girl replied.
By “the master,” she meant her father—Edgar Alzbayne. Suimei gulped nervously.
“Suimei-sama, I bid you be at ease.”
“I’ll try, but...”
He was about to meet the famed Doll Master. He couldn’t relax even if he wanted to. He flashed an embarrassed smile instead as the girl turned toward the door.
“Father, I’ve brought your guest from the Society.”
“Come in.”
A deep voice came from the other side of the door. It carried a weight to it almost like that of an aged tree.
The girl then opened the door, revealing an old gentleman sitting on a sofa within. He wore a stylish monocle and vest. Suimei’s first impression was that of a dour-looking sculpture, such was the heavy atmosphere about him. This was the master of the house and the meister of the dolls created in this workshop. Suimei walked up behind the empty sofa sitting across from him and bowed.