Blood Thicker than Fire I
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The sun was at its zenith but the boy could not feel its heat, only its blessed light. He smiled in content as he tend to his activity in his schedule: tending the flowers in the royal garden. He inspected all the flowers since he lived here for three years. All 24 kinds of them. More than half was from his own personal backyard. Each of them beautiful on its own. From the passionate red of Blood roses, to the majesty of Silverweiss, to the mysticism of the Metalkisses. Each of them beautiful. Each of them dangerous. How? Only the boy knew.
His name was Arthur. A fifteen year-old boy with sharp onyx-colored eyes, ash-grey hair and an unapproachable atmosphere wafting around him. His face advancing to the first stage of adolescence. His face becoming more angular, his jaws stronger, and his body build that was toned from his childhood surviving in the streets, was getting more developed. He was getting taller too: barely below six feet. If he strolled in the city, one would assume he was a noble, and they would be right. Half-right anyway.
He hummed a lazy tune: his tune. The melody rose and fell at his predicted command. The notes followed the odd arrangement. It was not a beautiful song, but it was oddly pleasing to the ear. The song is the only memento from his mother he never knew. He was just a toddler, less than his first Wakeday, but he still remembered what his mother do to lull him to sleep. And he shall never forget. He can never forget.
“Milord,” A feminine voice called out to him, breaking out of his stupor.
“Hmm?” As he faced the owner of the voice. What greeted him was a pair of eighteen year old girls with dark-purple hair combed in ponytails, roundish lavender eyes and thin, childish lips. They had pointed ears and light-chocolate colored skin, indicating their race. Both of them were wearing maid outfits. The pair, despite being older, were a foot shorter than the ‘young lord’. They were unmistakably twins: Every little detail between them were so shockingly similar everyone in the castle would be confused. The thing is, the twins liked to keep it that way despite of heavy persuasion of the staff and the head handmaiden.
The two girls had a peculiar habit that earned the confusion of the palace: they intentionally tried to make themselves uncannily similar to each other. They would walk in eerily perfect synchronization, would never separate for more than five meters, and would speak at the same time. Seldom, they even finished each other’s sentences. Moreover, their template ‘ice-princess’ façade they publicized did not do them any favor.
For Althea and Astraea Morador, they were one.
This troubled the maids and servants at the beginning of the twins’ employ but then accepted it as their eccentric quirk. Crazy servants for the crazy lord, they said.
“It’s time,” one of them spoke.
“Thank you, Astraea,” he stated nonchalantly, making the maid flinch. “Let’s go then. You and Althea coming with me?”
““It is our duty.”” Both replied at the same time.
“Hahaha, don’t be so stiff! It’s a great day today!” he said as he started to walk leisurely. The twins followed at his sides. Due to their lord’s bizarreness, he ordered them to always walk alongside him instead of behind him. They tried to ask the reason why but he just said in jest that he just want them in arm’s reach, literally. Never did they knew that it was the truth.
“But lord, today is your Inheritance rite. And even though it should normally a great day for an Ashchiemvierre…” Althea, the younger twin hesitated
“Hmm?” his trademark smirk present on his face. His smile widened as if the twins delivered a joke and he’s waiting for the punchline.
“Many parties and individuals are against of your inheritance and few may voice out their displeasure. Some might even result to violent confrontations,” Astraea finished.
“Exactly!” He exclaimed causing his faithful maids sigh in defeat. His eyes sparkled with mischievousness. “Those old backstabbing good-for-nothing leeches going to be there and they’ll seething in anger!”
“Yes, milord, they will. But…”
“But nothing Astraea!” he interrupted with great vigor. “It’s their last chance to impede my growth! It is already a certainty that they will do everything in their pathetic power to stop me from growing more powerful! Don’t you see? It has come! The great confrontation! The bastard son of the Archduke of Fire versus the nobles of the Crimson City! Hahaha! It will be legendary!”
“No it won’t, milord. It would just be an annoyance at worst. It certainly won’t be filled with your delusions of grandeur.”
“Aww, such a killjoy, Astraea. Why won’t you be like your little sister here? She’s so cute and adorable.”
“Hwuah~??” The twin in question let out a strange sound as her attention was called. She nearly tripped but recovered instantly. Years of training as a maid in the highest ranking noble house in the kingdom paid off. This caused the Astraea involuntarily twitch her brow in annoyance. Seeing this, the young lord burst in laughter.
“Muu~~~” Althea pouted. “Master, I believe I already told you to stop teasing me!”
“Hahahahah!” he quipped. “I’m not teasing you Althea, I’m teasing both of you! You sooooo insist on being so similar so this great lord Arthur Azaleus Regalius Von Ashchiemvierre have to resort to drastic measure to differentiate you! I say you deserve it!”
Althea was stunned for an instant then seemed to remember something. Her face puffed up accusingly. “But master! Didn’t you already notice that it was sis that called you minutes ago!?”
“Huh? Did I?” His trademark smirk, full of mischief and wonder, widened.
“Mou!!! Master!? You did! You did!!! You totally did, didn’t you!?”
His only answer was an amused chuckle.
“Milord, this one humbly ask what manner can you tell~~~” Astraea, ever-so-serious, started to ask flatly but…
“Now let’s go! To the Burning Tower!”
She was completely ignored. She has no other choice but to follow her idiot master. She sighed looking at her company; one has a face was brimming with anticipation and eyes glowing with curiosity the other was trying to do an angry face and failing. She sighed again, shook her head ruefully and picked up her pace.
The three’s exchange was almost a daily ritual and Arthur always made sure to savor it. He liked the way Althea tried to glare at him but her eyes swims erratically after their gazes met. He enjoyed the moment Astraea reveals one of her rare smiles after her occasional defeated sighs. It was like taking a sip from a pair of rare wines just for the near-subtle sweet aftertaste. Being with these girls would make Arthur fulfilled and still want for more. Having thought of that, he unintentionally smiled serenely.
The unfortunate girls, due to their habit of always looking at the boy to make sure he wouldn’t do something odd again, didn’t miss the change on his lips. Obviously, their breath were stolen away, their knees became weak and their eyes lost focus as they try to control their reddening faces.
‘So unfair!’ they thought as they try to catch up to him. Althea’s face was still beet red as her eyes swam around except to his general direction and Astraea could barely maintain her ice-cold face façade because of the hardly noticeable pink flush on her cheeks. Of course, Arthur noticed their reactions without even turning but wisely decided to ignore it.
‘So cute…’ he kept his thoughts to himself as he walked.
Arthur Azaleus Regalius Von Ashchiemvierre. Considering the petty arrogance and the holier-than-thou attitude of pretty much most nobles in the world, they decided that longer names brings prestige and glory. Well, Arthur didn’t have that posh name from the start. He was Arthur Iglesias until three years ago; named after the orphanage he was found. Preferably, he liked the Iglesias name better; after all it was simple, shorter and most of all…
It’s so cool!
Yes. That’s his reason. Should’ve known.
Changing his name from Iglesias to an Ashchiemvierre was supposed to be impossible. Many among other nobles were opposed and the populace expressed their displeasure that a mud-eating, infamous problem child of the slums rise up to the ranks of the wealthy. However he was very lucky, was all that he could’ve explained the happenings that happened three years ago.
During the festival that only happens every ten years, there was a martial arts/swordsmanship competition aimed towards the newbie adventurers and mercenaries. Our MC participated purely for the reward money but no one expected that the gears of fate turned for him that day.
To sum it up: He won. And he won spectacularly.
During the finals, he was against the heir of the Ashchiemvierre House that participated after that latter’s coming-of-age ceremony. In truth, the competition was supposed to be a demonstration of the burning might of the next generation of Ashchiemvierre to the fiefdom’s subject.
Well, the demonstration succeeded. Just not in the way anyone would have expected.
Arthur, in his desperation to win, subconsciously activated an Arts that only an Ashchiemvierre could do. He did that, in addition with his bizarre flame, as a finisher in front of every spectator and the Duke himself. Because of that instant, the House decided to keep the boy as its new addition.
Many was against the decision, claiming that such bastard did not deserve such position, the child was a vagrant thief, etc. etc., but the Duke’s decision overruled them. Unexpectedly, the Duke’s ruling was not an impulsive one. His reasons are:
[1]He is without an Ashchiemvierre. The blood of the ancestor was without doubt running through his veins.
[2]He was just a child. Complaints against him would earn the ire of some people.
[3]He was powerful. His last opponent was the rumored one-in-a-millennium prodigy and he beat him, even though it was a very close call. Securing such a talent was a priority.
[4]His prowess was seen publicly. He was expected to be a pillar for the House’s fame. And he can’t do it if he’s dead. Or assassinated.
And lastly: [5] His flames.
Ashchiemvierre’s fire magic superiority aside, Arthur’s flames was bizarre. Instead of an intense red, his fire was metallic gray in color. His fire also lacked the heat attribute of a real fire; his was only lukewarm. As a consequence, his fire was dubbed as a fraud earning him the moniker the Fake Flame. However, the reason his odd fire was feared was mainly because of its three features:
[1]His fire was ceaseless. Arthur, despite being a child, could make his fire for an indefinite amount of time. While it was possible to achieve this, one has to be a mage of the Fifth Circle or an Elder-ranked Ashchiemvierre. It was then discovered that its eternal attribute was a default setting.
[2]His fire was cursed. The instant the gray fire made contact to a target, the target would be weakened. Sap his strength, decreased his speed, shoot his concentration, and drain the opponent’s stamina. Various hexes could be activated. With the indistinguishable fire, this attribute’s efficiency was multiplied tenfold.
[3]His fire was the Firebane. Strangely, his fire, for a lack of better word, was a cannibal. His gray flame absorbs all fire, no matter if it’s from a normal fire mage or a Flame, and make it its own. In this manner, the gray flame can imitate the scorching heat and the intense light that a real fire could have and more. Because of its eternal and cursed attributes, the product became deadlier; poisonous. A fake more real than the real. Imagine him orchestrating an attack with other Flames: Eating their fire and making it stronger and making the resulting fire’s essence more mysterious and complicated in nature.
Thus, Arthur the Fake Flame became the crimson city’s trump card.
Surprisingly, Arthur didn’t mind his title. In fact, he secretly liked it. A fraud more genuine than real: The Fake Flame. Compared to the other names people spout in hushed whispers and subtle glances such as The Bastard, Chaos’ Child, GrayFire, and That-Crazy-Fucking-Son-Of-A-Bi-guwaahhh!gck!
... yeah, go figure.
As he walked in silence, looking at the flowers at the garden, he couldn’t help but to smile wryly.
Ahh…… figures.
“Milord?”
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“Hmm?” He turned to Astraea quizzically.
“Is the Inheritance really necessary for you? Weren’t you strong enough without it? Why risk getting caught up with this city’s politics just for it?”
“Cuz it will be more fun that way!”
“Hahh…”
“Relax, I'm reckless but I’m not stupid. I’ve properly thought this through. Hmmmm…. How to explain it… ah, yeah! This is the perfect time to purge them all in one swoop since the Duke is present. They could now only fight me head-on instead of scurrying in the shadows because for them this is most opportune moment to oust me! No way they’re gonna pass it up!”
“Then doesn’t make that a trap?”
“Yup, but what of it~?” He smiled innocently, but the twins knew that the smile he showed was anything but. “Right now, the nobles’ oppositions against me is in its last hurrah, so I plan to end it magnificently! And there’s no grander stage than the Burning Tower! Told you it’s legendary!”
“Haaaahh… So you’re saying ‘they’re becoming annoying that it’s not fun anymore! Yosh! Let’s end it!’ right?”
“Wha! A-as expected of my maid, you’re so competent! H-hahahaha!”
“Haaaaahhh... Very well, this one understands.”
“Good! Then let’s go!” he suddenly smiled devilishly.
Ah, Astraea mourned. I’ve got a bad feeling abou-“Kyaahhh?! Milord!?”
“Wawawawawawa!?”
“[Flicker!]”
Fire appeared on the soles of his shoes as he ran. Each of his step covered more than 20 meters as fire erupted from his feet. Due to his speed, petals from various flowers flew with them creating a surreal scene.
She was surprised when she was lifted off the ground. She then realized that Arthur’s hand was on her hip and his arm was on her back. She noticed that her sister was on the same situation and flailing cutely while letting out questionable cry. She then prepared her most vindictive glare she could muster but when he met her gaze, her breathing stopped.
Even if the Ashchiemvierres, and all Duke Houses, were revered and regarded as quasi-gods by the populace, they weren’t exempted from the dark rumors and stereotypes that the people place on them. Stereotypes like: volatile attitude, limited patience and the sudden urge to solve all problems by burning everything in sight. Astraea, as a personal maid of a Flame from the main house, snorted every time she heard those whispers in passing. She would smile smugly and would think: if only you’d know.
This time, Astraea wanted to slit the throat of her past self as she recalled one prevalent rumor: the males of Ashchiemvierres are excellent in… excellent in… umm… excellent lovers. Some say that their gaze will melt you, their touch would make your knees weaken and their kiss will… their kiss… kiss…
Her thoughts were swirling in an unbelievable speed that she didn’t notice her arms mechanically wrap around Arthur’s neck much like her sister. It was only the smell of flowers and the rushing winds that make her wake from her reverie. Seeing her situation, she smiled dreamily.
She was floating mid-air. With Roses and Carnations and Red Gerberas swirling around her like they were dancing. And her lord holding like a lover. She knew she was not a girl who dreams of dashing prince sweeping her off her feet but now that she experience the sensation, she couldn’t blame those dreaming girls. In the corner of her mind, she recalled that fateful night.
His figure shone with moonlight, as if he was the moon’s conqueror. His eyes so black, darkness couldn’t compete. And his smile…
She remembered their Oath to him and his Promise to them. She remembered that in that forest deprived of soul and sound, there’s only them, him, the moon and his gray flame…
Ah, this truly is bliss.
She strengthened her grip around his neck and closed her eyes bashfully. She let herself be swept away with dreams and delusions she never brought herself to think before. With the escorting wave of red petals, she let herself dream.
Dream.
In his arms.
Safe.
And in love.
Arthur and the ladies’ jog toward its destination: the Burning Tower at the foot of the Ruby Mountain, took about 25 minutes. It went without saying that Arthur refused the normal way of passing to the Burning Tower using the NewCarriages with escorts and all that regalities. He successfully ditched his entourage, even making the twins forget it even though they were the ones told to pick him up and shamelessly run toward his destination with the twins in his arms. His behavior would likely earn the ire of the guards and the disappointment of his instructor but like always, he didn’t care.
He simply ran without stopping to his goal. This time, his goal is the Burning Tower
The Burning Tower got its name from red glow it emits from the fire crystal that it was made up of. Those crystals shed crystal dust in proximity and glows dim red around the building that creates the illusion of a forever-burning tower. It was situated at the center of the Flame territory which marked the location of the Ashchiemvierre main house.
After 12 minutes, his two passengers were bewildered of his strange mood. His hold over them was near painful, outright possessive, his smile became a little stiff, and when they looked at his eyes, they can see under the sparks of mischief and amusement, they can see glimmer of doubt and worry.
Then it hit them. Concern poured over them like cold water as they hugged tighter to him seeking more warmth.
They almost forgot about the dangers of the inheritance rite. Because of Arthur’s indifference every time the topic of the inheritance rite was raised, the twins paid it no matter. Their absolute trust to their master blinded them of the risks that he had to take.
Firstly, because of his not-so-few enemies, the sisters were sure that the first part would be sabotaged and tampered that his rate success would be greatly diminished. They knew by sneaking around that the Courage Test was a hoax and a scheme that could eliminate him. Spouting such lines like “prove if he’s worthy” and “it’s the will of the ancestor”
Then after that, a voting would be held if “he was ready.” This time, the twins knew that Arthur prepared some countermeasures, they even helped him a few times, but they were skeptical if that’s enough.
But the one they were most worried about was the rite itself that would proceed at the ancestral chamber. It was said that the participant will bathe in golden ancestral fire and swim in the lava where the Ancestor vanished from. There you will gaze upon a star that was hotter than any other.
And then you pray.
The two knew that most of it was made-up to make it seem grandiose and foreboding (they knew the Flames’ love for drama) but what they were scared about was the mortality rate of those who come into that chamber. Out of 20 Flames’ (or any who carry the Aschiemvierre blood) only 15 came back alive. Moreover, 3 of those would be magically crippled for the rest of their lives and another 3 would be deem unworthy.
Of course all of the main house and most of the major houses would succeed considering all the near unlimited resources, undivided attention, continuous support from their family and the fact that they dedicated their whole life just for that moment.
But Arthur had none of that. Worse, he was a halfblood; any chance of success, however small, would be halved. And that was thinking optimally.
Worry and fear was etched on the faces of the dangerously-dependent, frighteningly-obsessive maids as they squeezed harder. They eyes were locked to his face, looking for comfort. They clearly saw his laid-back attitude as they hovered through the air. The split second darkness in his eyes were gone, only replaced with warm consideration and cozy gratitude.
They sighed a breath of relief. And their eyes were full of joy and accomplishment. Even if small, they knew that their master was as dependent of them as they to him.
After all, it really felt good to be needed.
Arthur, on the hand was nervous. But not because of the rite itself. In fact, he had this sinking feeling that there’s a chance that he might die even before he go inside the tower.
During his trip to the Burning Tower, he had not seen any guard around, let alone other people. Even the gardener mister Gardener (his name was Gardener) that should be tending the gardens daily was out of sight.
His gut feeling came true when he used [flicker] so glide through the air towards the tower. There should be patrolling guards along the cobbled road and around the cherry trees but he found none.
He sighed in defeat followed by a dark chuckle.
‘No choice then’
“[Burst] [double flicker]”
[Burst] was like an explosion generated from his legs that catapulted them 15 meters off the ground and [double flicker] enabled him to jump on air like they’re platforms.
The off-road then led to an uphill slope covered with red crystals around. Again, no guards, let alone people. He chuckled grimly, further narrowing his lists of suspects. As expected…
After 5 more minutes, they arrived at the top of the hill, gawking at the 50-meter burning crimson tower. Flickers and orbs of fire revolved around like moths but the temperature didn’t change; still cool. Red grasses that looked like dried blood were abundant; covering the ground except from the areas a few fire crystals were clustered together. The tower itself was almost symmetrical if not for a few crystal shards protruding the left side(their POV) of the tower.
To Arthur, it looked majestic. It looked intimidating. It looked…
...like a big red dick.
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[pim pom paam!] the Narrator is unavailable for the moment. Please wait [pim pom paam!]
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Breathe in. Hahh. Okay. Let’s fucking continue.
He released his twin maid hostages form his embrace and smiled faintly when the sisters refused to budge for a few seconds. Althea aside, he didn’t expect Astraea would be this clingy. The last she was like this was…
…the night they met.
He smiled. Then kissed her forehead. She shivered slightly and released him. The other one, seeing her sister separated, pouted slightly and followed. The two stepped back two steps so that they would be diagonally behind him. Their heads lower to hide(and failing) their red faces.
Arthur frowned. He closed his eyes and scanned with his superior senses and [Heat pulse]. He expected 50 mercenaries, 100 assassins and even monsters attacking him but he only sensed one heat signature. It was indistinct, somewhat hazy signature. He would have failed to notice if that one didn’t accidentally looked at his direction and let out bloodlust.
His frown deepened. He would gladly fight 10,000 assassins than to fight the one hiding behind a two-meter fire crystal 20 meters behind him.
He sighed deeply. His contemplation was disturbed by the melodic voice behind. He turned around and froze. Looking at Astraea, cold realization hit him.
“Aren’t you going to enter Milord?”
“Hmm….”
The would-be-assailant didn’t attack him when he baited it with a slow-moving air-gliding target that made him stupidly vulnerable to attack but that one didn’t take it. Looking at his companions, he realized.
That one wasn’t an enemy.
Well, it wasn’t an ally either.
“Milord?”
“Hmm???”
With a subtle tilt of her head, Althea’s voiced reached him.
“Aren’t you going in?”
“Hmmm… Yah. Oh, before I forgot, the two of you shall prepare for tonight,” he nonchalantly said.
Astraea was confused for a moment. “Pardon? Oh! As you command, we shall prepare for a sumptuous supper for your lordship. As we are aware that the Rite is mind-exhausting, strength-depleting and stamina-draining event, any delicacy that milord would need---“
“You.”
“---shall be prepared. Whaaza?”
“I want you for supper,” he said.
Astraea was frozen. She looked at her side and saw that her dear twin sister was so red, she’s smoking. That added to her confusion until a breeze touched her body and she shivered. She slowly, ever so slowly, turned her eyes back to the young master.
And he was inches for her.
He was smiling like he used to. But the way he looked down upon her, his hand on her chin, and his eyes perceiving like she’s prey waiting to be devoured took her breath away. All she could do was to take a single step back and to widen her eyes as he neared her.
Then, unsurprisingly, he kissed her.
At first. It was just a peck in the lips, but it was enough to send mind into chaos.
Then the slight glitter in his eyes that seemed to say: but wait, there’s more! made her reactions to his advances all but futile. His lips brushed against hers and his t-t-tongue(oh heavens beyond!) invaded her mouth easily. Pleasure assaulted her as fear and anxiety crept in her like a hundred ants crawling but she knew she could not to anything but submit.
“Hmm?! Fumhhm! HHfuhmm!? Fuwwaa!”
Her mind was a mess. She couldn’t make coherent thoughts, she failed to realize that she was kissing him back. Her hand that she assumed to be paralyzed was on the back of his head as his wandered around the back of her waist and thigh. Even though her kisses were a bit inexperienced, as expected of a prim and proper elf, the glazed-almost-hungry glint in her eyes was prominent as she tip on her toes.
“Hmm… Huwahh… Fuhmm! Wuhh-Hiyahnn!!…”
Before she knew it, her ear was being caressed. She broke off from him and panted roughly, eyes glowing slightly. Before she could get her bearings, she saw for a second his smile as he bit her ear.
“Hyihmm… hmm…”
And licked it.
“Hyahh!! HmmpHH! Mufuhmm?? Fuwhaa… ahHwa?”
And then her moans were sealed off with another kiss.
…
Astraea Morador was never a romantic. Those who met her was convinced that her heart was made of ice and her bearings was nothing but pragmatic. Her working ethics were so precise and efficient that you would question if she was really a living being. However, what most didn’t gleam was that compared to her sister, she was more pure and naïve.
She was a dreamer. Despite her heavy anchor on reality, she let herself delude of scenes and scenarios she didn’t think would happen in her at all. Because she strongly insisted that those preposterous events would never-ever-ever happen to her, her delusions were more vivid in comparison to those ‘maiden-bitches’ she loathed so much.
But she never dreamt of anything like this before; or anything close to for that matter. What she imagined was only a chaste kiss, followed by… another kiss and a hug. She dreamed of being alone with him, under the two moons’ lights cuddling contently, sharing a wonderful memory. She imagined having a family with him, with two kids (both had pointed ears) in her home in that forest where the sun didn’t shine.
But she didn’t dream of this. This… THIS!!!
Their… activity… took about 10 minutes and she gradually lost her consciousness and went limp. Her breathing deepened as hey eyes fluttered to sleep. The remaining vestiges of her mind was only thinking of how good it felt.
…
Meanwhile.
Althea, the self-proclaimed little sister was frozen solid, sporting a strange stiff smile unable to tear herself from the spectacle in front of her. Everything happening around was so foreign, weird, and so hot.
Without noticing her arousal, she stared intensely to her master and her sister doing… things. Unspeakable things.
WAWAWAWAWA!!
They’re kissing! Wah, they’re kissing!
Sis, you okay? You don’t look like you’re okay?
WAWAWA, so intense! WAAWAAWAA!
Wow, Sis is kissing back! Kyahhh!
Do me too! Do me toooo!!!
Sis, you know I love you so much, but right now you look like a bitch! Sthap!
WAWAAAWAWWA!
Althea was always the imaginative, colorful, and childish of two dark elves. Errant thoughts swiveled around her mind as she stared at her sister getting… ravaged. Because of their parallel looks, it wasn’t a stretch that in her mind, she was the one being eaten as dessert. She didn’t realize that her breathing became rougher and her eyes became unfocused.
After 10 minutes, she shivered in a mixture of fear and excitement as her master lowered her sister and looked at her direction. His gaze here fierce and foreboding, masked with unbridled desire and dark cunning.
But, she didn’t mind one bit. In fact she welcomed it. Instead of stepping back and running away, she stepped closer as she lord flickered towards her.
“Your turn,” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
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Arthur didn’t like the Ashciemvierres’s special disposition but he deemed it necessary for just this instance as he turned off the [Melting Hearts] skill. His two retainers were lying in the red grass, in deep sleep with slackened grins and pinkish blush on their cheeks.
He chuckled, then he sighed. Then he turned around and said softly, “Come out, we have to talk.”
And she did.