Glugs.

It was mildly startling really. Minutes ago, the young man would never have thought to pay any semblance of attention to the curving arcs embedded on the far wall. The glistening pillars, the white-egg pastel paint along with the double base rail should be just that; motif. Mere background image or ornamentation that at most an interesting architectural choice; representation of how certain culture built their buildings differently depending on their intended functions. Like the ceiling of the European grand cathedrals. The tapering off on their high angle was meant to inspire awe in the congregants. Meanwhile, in the South East Asian cities, the same raised ceiling functioned as a pre-air conditioner circulation mechanism that meant to weather their harsh dry season. Yet, when the silence spread like sphere expanding, quicksand swallowing, he couldn’t help but observe the only moving thing — the only pin drop on the otherwise silent hall. Laminated and lined inside the ice-made pipes, the staccato of sloshes came one after another; clusters of escaping air interacting with liquid water. Which of course by the nature of density, swam and swam upward, slithering and zig-zagging as they curved and leaped. The bubbles — the glugs, passed through the arcing gallery, through the dome base and by the fifth second, ended high inside the central foci; the oculus. Causing a little burst of gargle when they eventually popped, joining the rest of the air in the similarly ice made’s light well. Which of course didn’t change the apparent volume of the water or the air. After all apparent volume was just that — what was apparent. And considering that he was a meter eighty centimeter something guy looking thirty-something high ceiling. Well, his vision wasn't just that good.

The white light from the midday sun still filtered gently unhampered, soft spreading toward now the silent atrium.

“So…” he started slowly, redirecting his peripheral from the magical-architectural interlude and back toward Tobias’ face — ignoring the fact that the man’s jaw was still locked in slack after the man pronounced what it seemed to be how-the-f-you-do-that news.

“...who is this grand elder?”

[https://i.ibb.co/kHLk3wt/Line-Break.png]

The reaction was swift. His question was gasped, pointed at, and chastised while he himself ushered toward the door. The only thing that he had managed during that forty-four seconds of unfolding trainwreck, was insisting that Clar should come with him. Which he got of course, he wouldn’t have it otherwise. But the much, much protest; the thousand and thousand of spittle of ‘how—how could you’; well, how should he put it? Unsettling.

“Water?” he said, offering the girl a waterskin. The chilled one he just rummaged from the ‘inner pocket of his outer vest’. It was petty of course. He got it why the white-clothed man — Sir Sargei visibly twitched. After all before he had entered this glow moss lit room, his haversack was unjustifiedly confiscated and his upper torso was unwittingly patted. Something something about safety they said. Which was galling — infuriating. After all, when you got promptly invited it was not exactly the invitee’s burden to make sure that they complied with the non-reasonable requests of the other party.

Then again, he wasn’t in a position to you knew, outright refusing.

So here he was, doing a small revenge. Partly. The other part was letting Clar having her water which of course, she needed. The girl finished her sourdough three minutes ago and he knew how stale it was after eating those water-sucking carbohydrates. The dryness. It almost abrasive. So while he did derive a bit of schadenfreude from ‘smuggling dangerous item under an unwarranted, over-the-top security’, he mostly did it for Clar. Maybe. People allowed to have two equally valid reasons for doing one thing. Right? Right? He meant what should have he done then? Not allowing her to drink? Or maybe, this — this impertinent grand elder thought that since there was a freaking pond in the room and an honest-to-god waterfall covering his pretentious office door, the girl could just scoop her hand down and drink from there? Like just drink. Wow.

The charade lasted two and a half minutes which ended when Clar finally gulped the last remnants of the water and the man, sensing that somehow, walked from his standing guard position to you knew, ‘confiscate the dangerous waterskin’. It was a bit sad really. For the man he meant. There was this mix of guilt in his steel determination, a frown in his otherwise grim step. This of course by design; part of his plan to get back to that non-respecting time-gobbling goblin. It just a bit sad that the said plan required an honest man to feel bad about taking a girl water bottle. Well, whatever.

He pulled a polite smile and pushed his conscience into a deep, deep box inside his brain as the usher, bowed deeply with one of his hand held open. “Master Euca,” the man said, his voice cracked. “May I?”

“Sir Sargei! Has the grand elder finally ready to meet us?”

He said, betraying — stabbing the man. Implicit? He shook his head. Unless the man dared to say it to his face that a young girl who just got hurt couldn’t bring her own waterskin for her to sip, then it was checkmate.

He didn’t have anything against the man of course. No, the man was civil, didn’t overreach, and performed nothing more than what his duty demanded. Honestly, he got it. Like totally got it. If you were a security something guard of a VIP, then you better did your job correctly. Your high pay existed for a reason. Not to mention, in so far his conduct was also nothing but polite, accomodating. Everything he asked was immediately answered with none of that snide remarks or summary dismissal.

But.

As he said, conscience, box. Conscience. Box

“Master Euca… the grand elder safety is the most important thing to us...” the man trailed. His eyes almost impossibly locked to the waterskin in his right hand. Perhaps something along the line of questioning his own competence, was the man in front of him hiding some kind of miniaturized transporter’s backpack? And if he did, was there any weapon inside that. You knew, a very reasonable and good question.

Which of course Euca answered with: well, here he came.

“Of course! Of course!” he nodded, displaying a face of grave morose. “I understand, Sir Sargei. It — it just it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity you know? Meeting the grand elder. Honestly, what a bad timing, *sigh*. but I suppose the fair need to come first. I — of course, understand.”

“Then again... Mr. Tobias, bless that man really. I mean couldn’t imagine need to organize that much massive redo. I was there you know? Five buildings got burned, Five, could you imagine that? Five buildings. Gone. Thank her light Lord Theshipe managed to put a stop to that atrocity. It’s fine, sir. Fine. Of course, the grand elder is occupied. This unimportant meeting could always be arranged at later date. Perhaps a week after the fair maybe, I’m quite free at that — oh, where is my manner, I mean anytime really. Anytime. Just deliver a message when the grand elder isn’t so busy and I promise sir, I promise that I’d instantly came. After all the grand elder — no, no, the entire Jewel is my sister’s benefactor.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Come on, Clar, up, up.” he patted her head, standing up from the surprisingly not-soaked fur-lined bench. “The grand elder is busy. We shouldn’t bother him.”

Still smiling, albeit with a bit of shrugging, he flashed a last nod to the flabbergasted usher. Then, the finality, the curtain call — the last twist of the knife: he bowed. “Please deliver our greeting to the grand elder for his most gracious hospitality, Sir Sargei. I’m in your debt.”

“M—master Euca!”

He didn’t see him of course. Like his feet that already taking their third steps, his back had already turned toward the hallway that connected this waiting room with the door outside. His stately gait clacked on the marble floor. Interrupted with only Clar more frequent ones.

But if he could — and certainly would guess, the man should be either panicked or glared at him with an intensity of thousand lasers, focused on his head. His hypothetical becoming a pile of melted goo aside, he kept marching. With smiles!

Halfway and still holding Clar’s hand, he heard shuffles. Footsteps as the man trying to you knew, stopping them. He sighed, shaking his head. It was done. What else he was going to say? That they should wait indefinitely when it was clear that the other party who invited them? Or that he shouldn’t ‘hide’ the waterskin? Letting his ‘sister’ — his injured sister sat a full hour without access to drinking water. Yeah. She could open her mouth and the waterfall mist would simply fly in right? My good man, he squinted his eyes ever so slightly to the approaching hallway, have you ever heard the concept of ‘sitting in a moral high ground?’ Because his freaking redacted kilo was seated in the mountain of one right now.

As far as he was concerned, the only option for him to make them stay was to make this company to not be that polite.

“The young ones nowadays have no patience.”

Or that apparently…

[https://i.ibb.co/kHLk3wt/Line-Break.png]

It almost looked like a show. A show made to impress but badly. First, he had heard enough of the ‘whisper behind one’s ears’ so hearing it for the third time wasn’t doing anything for him anymore. Also, Clar came from [Chronicle]. Which if even a fraction of those games truly existed in a 3-D plane then even the entire majesty of the teleportation gate didn’t hold a candle to what she had witnessed personally. He meant come on. She saw a freaking floating city in the middle of a ravaging ocean. Then there was this volcano where monsters and animals and pets and apparently players — yes, players with 100% fire-resistance build, frolicking about. He even saw one group streaming a dance-off in like the middle of the very much still lava-filled caldera. Yeah, lava-filled caldera. And who could forget an island entirely comprised of humanoid cats? Yeah. So, this mesmerizing, awing show, honestly fell flat for Clar.

And for him? Well, for him the preset flourish simply didn’t account for a great spirit throwing an f-you outside.

He kept his mouth halfway opened though, it was a good practice to fake awe when the awe-maker intend that. Like he said, he was a guest — a good guest that paid his psychological due. Even though the waterfall that stopped waterfalling in front of him was no different than a faucet being turned off. Or how the pool that dried up at the rate visible to the naked eyes was no different either to the drain hole of a sink of the said faucet got unplugged. He properly stared and gaped like, well, like someone who just saw magic for the first time. Again. Good guest.

Well to be fair, the walkway was kind of creative. Stone, round and in series rose from the bottom of the pool, creating an up and down pathway toward the gate — grandly welcoming them. Although, how could he say it… Well… it was a bit pointless.

First, the pool had been dried up so there was no real need for a stair. And second, look at that lack of railing. That was obviously not OSHA-compliant. Which was insane. If he was a non-guarded, regular person without B-equivalent summon, then that step basically a deathtrap. He could have slipped. Like slipped from that pointlessly high stair toward the concrete floor below. At that point breaking his ankle would be a small mercy.

Shaking his head, he sighed, holding Clar’s hands. They followed the stupid stair toward the pointlessly grand office door, of course. His not-willing-to-meet-the-elder argument hinged on the fact that the shitty elder himself was ...well, busy. Which he was not now apparently.

“M—master.”

“Yes, Clar?”

He turned his head toward the girl. At first, he thought the light was playing a trick on him, after all the blue luminescence around them was not exactly conducive for proper reading — well, anything that involved seeing really (again, pointless). But after blinking a few times, he could see that the girl was visibly trembling.

“Be careful…”

She tugged, asking for mana. A good chunk of it. To which, he stopped. While he hated the self-important man that made them wait for more than an hour, he was not actually willing to jeopardize their relationship just yet. All he wanted was to take a break, return to find Jeane and the other, and never came back. Then again, if Clar deemed that preparing was warranted, well — fine. The girl could have the ready mode. He still withheld anything that was not a passive enchantment though.

Walking down and down, he frowned, the steps were winding as they were ...unsettling. Unlike the outside, the light didn’t come from the mana stones embedded in the wall. Instead, series of mini-waterfall, well, mini-constantly-dripping-leaks were enveloping this place with a much more distant glow. If not for the wide steps they were standing on right now, he’d have to worry that they would plunge into the maw below.

Halfway through, the darkness became too much. The last water leak was a meter away and the stair hadn’t shown any sign of ending. He considered using the light stick, the enchantment knick-knack he bought as a curio. But, it’d reveal that he had some skill of ability to hide items from the security outside. Which perhaps fine for a waterskin, but for a magic item, it’d raise a question like what else he was hiding? The former could be justified, but the latter? It could signal that he somehow meant to harm the annoying old coot. What to do, what to—

“ —Master! Back!”

He staggered. Just as he thought he needed to go back and ask for a light enchantment to Sir Sargei, the darkness around him receded. A little ball as big as half of his palm, and ethereal as mountain-top fog glided toward him. The air buzzed, raising his hair in goosebumps.

A will o wisp.

Unlike the sprites, it didn’t talk. However, the bobbing, the gliding up and down, front and back, was clear: follow it downward.

Clar eyed the thing with suspicion. Pushing him to the edge of the step. His cautious side tended to side with her but then ...they were supposed to be invited. Which was should guarantee a safe passage. Maybe. Then there were the sprites. Especially the brother, he was very… — maybe this was a helpful proto-sprite?

“Maybe it wants us to follow it, Clar?” he said after a minute eyeing the wisp.

“Are you sure master?” she looked at him in disbelief. Mana flared around her. [Strengthen] and [Air Step] he guessed. “This — this thing! It’s dangerous!”

“I know, I know. But” —he pointed at the looming darkness beyond— “it quite dark there. And if it’s truly dangerous, I have you, haven’t I?”

“Master!”

“Look, look, if it was dangerous. You could...” he crouched, whispering.

“Fine! But master should stand behind.”

“Yes...”

The journey lasted quite a while. The spirit just glided downward. Sometimes hovered if they were slowing down, waiting for them to catch up. Clar hadn’t lowered his guard however, insisting that she tested each of the steps by standing on it first. But as he had guessed, nothing really happened. The journey ended without so much of a fanfare as they arrived on the base of the stair, which was a small room leading toward an opened archway.

“Excuse me…” he squinted his eyes, walking toward the archway. Unlike the stair above, this place was ...blinding. Light white and blue bathed the whole area. He didn’t even have the chance to acclimate his vision before a voice, aged and deep reverberated.

“So this is the one you talked about, children?” It trawled — slurring as if it was tasting every sentence. “How curious... A magician.”

“...and his summon.”