”You have finally returned…”
So he says. The Butler. You know. The Penguin-Clothed freaking butler. Well I suppose all butler is penguin clothed. So it’s not like my particular accourtement complaint is valid or anything… It just you know… IT’S A FREAKING BUTLER. ON WHAT SEEMS IN THE MAGICAL.. WHAT? CASTLE? OH GOD.
OKAY.
Oooookaaaaaay…
Wait.
…
He’s not alone!!
There are a company? A division? Definitely not a legion, well I don’t… whatever… there are a bunch. Yes, a bunch of people lining up behind him. *Squint*. I will my bright and bouncy magical light to dim.
About thirty people lined up, I see at least ten of them wearing what I shall educately guessed as knight armors. Medieval knight armors. Polished, shiny, silvery-white, medieval knight armors. With swords too. Of course they have swords. Those were put inside their scara… scabra…scarbb— scabbard! You know, the leather-woody thingy knight put their sword inside if they’re unused so they don’t stab people accidentaly (and able to look dashing when they draw their swords up and shouting I challenge you, Villain!). Ooooh, rosewood color, expensive leather. Expensive leather.
And four of them hoist some kind of… banner? Oh! A flagbearer!! Blue fabric and gold rim. Totally solid. The emblem is depicting a pair of white angel wing with cubic zirconia centerpiece. It must be this whatever-place banner. Hmm. Next, next..
The rest of the parade is a… quatturodecupplet? A 14-twins. Fourteen FREAKING TWINS. Same hair. Same height. Same face. I mean this could be those foreign face syndrome like when you see all korean girlband that have the same face. But, they’re HONEST TO GOD CAUCASIAN. And I definitely don’t have foreign face syndrome with caucasian since you know... youtube. Oh, and they’re wearing white cassock with silver rim and emblem depiction in their right pocket.
“It’s Your Grace, Donnovan. Not milord. Not since the whole Valitius elevated as duchy.”
Another butler with a white outer coat and black apparel walk beside the former butler who must be Donnovan and took his bow.
“Your humble servant greet your return. May the sun always maintain it’s shine.”
“And the moon held it’s calm.” reply Donnovan.
“Umm.. I’m sorry. But I don’t think I’m who you think I am, whoever that is...”
“…I don’t know.. how I get here… I just. You know, Sleep. In. My. Bedroom. Then I woke. Here! Wherever this is. Wherever this wonderfully, majestic, grandeur, five-starred scenery palace this is… This is NOT a prank right? Because if it is. We’re going to court. We’re going to court I tell you.”
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“What is a prank, Your Grace?”
“It’s when people make fun at other expense and record it to put in on –oh forget it. First thing first. Where is this, ms.…”
“Deborrah, Your Grace.”
“Oh, sorry Debborah. Sooo…?”
“This is Winding Clock, Your most prominent floating castle.”
“…the only floating castle.” Says a curious looking boy, popping back from Donnovan back.
“LIAM!!!”
“I’m sorry Your Grace, he is but just a young lad. We spoilt him too much.”
“That’s fin—wait.. A floating castle? There are no such thing as floating cas–OKAY. There are such thing as a floating castle. Wait. That’s not it. That’s not the main point. Miss Deborah. Mr. Donovan. I don’t care if the castle floating or it’s goes underwater and become second atlantis or whatever… I don’t even care I somehow able to perform spell. Magic spell. This banquet thing. Or this bouncy, shiny, adorable light ball’s show. What do I care is why I am here and why you’re calling me, YOUR GRACE?”
“It’s because you are a Duke, duh. People called duke Your Grace, kings got called Your Majesty, another royals called Your Highness, the Church folk called Your Eminence, and the rest of noble is simply called Milord or milady. You supposed to be smart.”
“Liam…”
“But Sir Charl says that’s how they’re called! You can’t reprimand me!”
“I *sigh* reprimand you. Not. Because you’re wrong Liam. But because you’re spoke out of turn. His grace ask me and Sir Donnovan. Not You.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry Your Grace.”
“…it’s… it’s fine… can you answer me now, Miss Deborah?”
“We’re not exactly certain, Your Grace. It was a matter of hundred years ago. Each and every decade, our memories are… refreshed. We will wake up one day, only knowing our name and our mission alone. And that’s is to guard this place until your return.”
“My return?”
“Yes, Your Grace. It was a message. Embedded in our mind. I shall return to you timid and teetered. Under the firmament, knowing none but everything that is not known. However, I shall bear the mark of this House. White Amber and tinge of magenta. You shall welcome me and teach me everything I’ve learned. My book when I return. And the key when the seal undone. You shall see clear the first happenstance. But, the second could only be sensed. Do not give me the second until then. Thus I wished upon you. For season and season and season…”
“and season and season and season and season–– “
“and season and season and season and season–– “
“and season and season and season and season–– “
“and season and season and season and season–– “
“and season and season and season and season–– “
“Okay. Stop. That’s an echo. You don’t need to repeat it.”
“So, what are you saying is that I’m some kind of reincarnation of this…propechy-class Wizard Duke which erase people mind every ten years. For hundred of years.”
“Well–“
“And I own a castle. This castle.”
“The entire duchy, Your Grace.”
“And you’re my servant. My servant which I had somehow in the past and until now, manipulate your mind.”
“Your Grace…”
“And I make you can’t die? Ain’t I? So you can not rest, and only serve me for eternity...What kind of sick people do that? Oh, I know, that supposed to be me, right? I don’t even know how can–“
“YOUR GRACE!”
“...Thank you, I need that.”
“We, your servant, aware that this seems to be a lot to take in. May I suggest a personal time in your chamber?”
“Chamber?”
“Bedroom, Your Grace.”
“...fine. It’s 3.30 am on my home and now, I’m some on god-forsaken nowhere. I'm sleepy, it's awful, it's not idealistic, it's aAAAARGHHH I don't know!!! Fine!! But, I want to have a talk tommorow Donnovan, a really good, long, exhaustive talk.”
“Tis would be my pleasure, Your Grace.”
Thus with a great fanfare, hulla baloo of accentuated clang-clang of steel boot's marching step and what it seems to be decorative magical...firework? The procession escort me in a welcoming march. Which end in what ought to be my bedroom. Is that oven heat I felt? That’s red-glaring fiery bird are like a real fireball right?
"…"
In my home there used to be a very apt saying; death is just sleep you never woke up. Death is just a sleep you never woke up.