Chapter 8:
Rudleberg Week: Part Two
ROOK GRIPPED HIS RAPIER, HOLDING IT steady between himself and his opponent. It was August 23rd, and while the girls were busy with dresses, the valet and the knight occupied themselves with sparring in the garden.
Lect and his longsword had the advantage both in reach and power. The victor of this bout was apparent. Should have been apparent. Yet the fight dragged on. Rook was evening the odds with magic, reinforcing his thin, flimsy weapon. He, as well as many inhabitants of this world, utilized such techniques to enhance their physical abilities, but he could apply the same technique to inanimate objects as well. With an infusion of mana, one could amplify a weapon’s cutting—or piercing—power, or render the monsters that roamed the land vulnerable. Magic was the blighted beasts’ only weakness.
As the match wore on, neither side willing to give an inch, an adorable little pup observed from the sidelines: Grail, the Dark One. The pup made himself comfortable as he nibbled on a strip of jerky he’d pilfered from the kitchen. Hmph. I would have felled the both of them handily in my prime. Quite comfortable indeed. Red hair has the upper hand in skill. What the young one lacks in physical strength, he makes up for with magic, but his technique is sloppy. Self-taught, no doubt. Still, he’s holding his own.
The Dark One munched. Its keen sense for combat hadn’t dulled despite the time it’d spent in this ignominious form. True to its prediction, the match went on with no clear victor. Eventually, it ended in a draw, though the duelists would have preferred the term “intermission.”
I’m hardly impressed. I do hope they don’t continue to disapp— Grail stopped chewing and stood. It sniffed, little nose twitching. Do my nostrils deceive? No. Impossible. I know this smell. The Dark One had caught the scent of kin. There’s more. More things. Things like me, yet so very different.
The pup sniffed and sniffed, tracking the stench of dark mana, but it could not find the source, as if the wind had carried it away.
It’s a hunt, then. Very well. Scurry off to your hiding place and tremble, for it’s the last thing you’ll do before you enter my maw! The Dark One widened said maw and let loose a mighty series of yips.
“Grail! There you are!”
The pup yipped less mightily as it timidly turned around. There she stood, the Dark One’s sworn enemy—Melody, the Saint. And she was not happy.
“Stealing from the kitchen again? No! Bad!”
Yipe. Run for it!
“Not so fast!” Melody snatched Grail up by the scruff of his neck, without using so much as a single spell. “Bad boy, Grail!”
I no longer fear you! When that beast fell, my cowardice fell with it!
“I guess you don’t want any dinner if you’d rather snack on jerky.”
Does your cruelty know no bounds?! Grail loosed a howl of true despair. The Dark One had chosen its path, that of the ever-starved mutt.
“Don’t be too hard on the poor thing,” Lect said.
“He could use more meat on his bones,” muttered Rook.
They sipped on water courtesy of Melody. She shook her head. “You two are going to spoil him.”
Swordsmen! the Dark One whined. I have misjudged you!
And so, the poor pup’s dinner was saved.
In return for their service, I shall inform them the moment I sense that mana again. They will have the honor of witnessing the assimilation firsthand!
Was Grail a good boy? A matter of debate. Was Grail a good Dark One? A matter of perspective.
Day four of the dressmaking found the gowns still very much works in progress. As miraculous as Melody’s masterworks were, not even she could turn a bolt into a ballgown overnight.
Micah couldn’t offer much help where needlework was concerned, so while Melody and the others slaved over fabric, she endeavored to make herself useful in other ways. Which admittedly still didn’t make her very useful. She, too, was very much still a work in progress learning her maidly duties, though that did not dampen her enthusiasm.
“Tea for you, my lady.”
“Thank you, Micah.”
For her part, Luciana plunged headfirst into review for the coming semester at the academy. She’d run out of things to help with, and with it excuses to put off the inevitable. Melody could be very convincing when she wanted to be.
Luciana grimaced. “Bitter.”
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry!”
It was all too easy to use a smidge too many tea leaves, as Micah had evidently done.
“Forty-two points, as Melody might say. That’s what this tastes like. Forty-two.”
“Hey, that’s passing!”
“It’s ‘technically not failing’ is what it is, Micah.”
“Sorry, my lady! I’ll keep practicing, my lady!”
“Please do.” With an amused-yet-weary smile, Luciana returned to her studies.
Micah exited and made for the kitchen to put away the tea set. On the way, she caught sight of Rook and Lect sparring in the garden.
At it again? They bored or something? Micah thought for a moment. Yeah, probably.
Lect did not live here and so had nothing better to do with himself, it seemed. The expectations for how men presented themselves at balls were much lower, so they had little to arrange beforehand. Even if Lect wanted to occupy himself with the ball for some reason, involving himself in his partner’s preparations would be improper.
So he sparred.
Actually, maybe I don’t mind getting to watch two hot guys hit each other. I wonder if Miss Melody would make me a smartphone. That would solve all of her screenshotting needs. And likely get her fired. The Summer Ball has so many good CGs. I’d be snapping photos the entire time if I actually went.
Memories of her old favorite game sprang to mind. Maxwell escorting the heroine into the ball by the hand. Schroden cutting in and asking for a dance. If the player got their affection levels high enough, even Christopher and Lectias could make an appearance.
Then there was the ride home. A sudden monster attack. The assault on the heroine’s carriage. Bjork Quichel sneering from afar.
“Wait.” Micah stopped in the middle of the corridor. “Isn’t there a combat encounter at the Summer Ball?” A monster attack. A carriage. She remembered it now. Somehow, by some means, beasts rampaged in the Upper District. “There’s a Bjork CG accompanying it, so he’s probably the one who sets it up, but it’s never fully explained in the game. Oh no. Oh no! Do I warn someone? Who do I warn? What do I say? That Bjork sends monsters after… Wait, Bjork? But Bjork is Rook now.”
Indeed, the man called Bjork Quichel was no more, grown into a strapping young man named Rook, who now worked as a valet-in-training.
“So maybe the ambush won’t happen? Come to think of it, without Bjork, what’s the Dark One even doing?” Stealing jerky and generally being a layabout, but that was neither here nor there. “Maybe I’m worrying too much. Even if there was a monster attack, we’ve got the heroine—er, Miss Melody on our side, and she can’t lose.”
She sighed in relief. “Wait, I was supposed to bring tea to everyone in the sewing room!”
Micah flew to the kitchen.
The world had no Bjork, and it had no Dark One. What, then, would it deign to do next?