Chapter 12: Bellow the night tremble

Following our conversation, Sariel—Father, as he insisted I address him more informally while maintaining my discipline—didn't expect much from the newfound freedom he granted me. My intention was to delve deeper into the mortal world, finding comfort in a stationary place rather than remaining amidst the high clouds. We were currently exchanging the usual letters.

However, upon my return to the mortally abode, I encountered an unexpected visitor. Contrary to my expectations of meeting Gaucher, a peculiar lady adorned in vivid clothing awaited me in the room, as if anticipating my arrival long in advance.

"Greetings, your holiness. It is an ever so esteemed honor to be in your divine presence at this singular moment," she bowed deeply before me, clad in garments more reminiscent of a painting than functional attire. If my memory served me correctly, she must be...

"Well, it's a pleasure rather than—" Before I could utter another word, she abruptly lifted my robe, revealing my wings. How audacious of her!

"These fabrics are heavenly, as recorded. I shall fashion one that befits your holiness," she continued to take notes while caressing the back of my wings, feathers fluttering about. Her boldness in touching such sacred elements reminded me of the tales of Darwen.

"I am pleased by your eagerness for knowledge, but it is blasphemous of you to touch my body so shamelessly," I scolded her to cease these untamed behaviors, and the ruffling of feathers stopped as requested.

"Such harsh words, but I suppose I am not the one bound by such obligations, your holiness. Shall I address you as something else, rather than the mouthfuls?" She giggled, collecting the feathers on the ground. A truly formidable woman; perhaps she could address me with the title I had bestowed upon Marvos.

"Address me as Lord Mikhail; it is suitable enough. The 'milord' term from your mortals is quite fitting for my status," I replied with a deep sigh, surveying my room, which hadn't changed much. This chamber was designated solely for rest, after all.

The book I borrowed from the library, the neatly made bed with remnants of my feathers—truly, I was home.

"Well, well, Lord Mikhail. You seem quite nostalgic about such mundane things. I shall leave the important works to those significant to my husband," she responded with a cheerful tone before glancing out the window. The continuous clank of swords persisted and quickened as the sound echoed through the ground at dawn.

["Hear my calling, grapple the calling object of my"] ["reducere"] “Darwen Gaucher,” a cold light emanated as her mana coiled around him like a rope, sending him downward. Not long after, a disturbed shriek echoed, and the knight in golden armor was yanked through the window.

“Let go of me, woman! Why did God have to give magic to someone like you?” In his suit of armor, grappled by the back of his cape, he shouted through the window. This spectacle seemed dangerously entertaining, to say the least.

“Listen here, you blinded knight! Lord Mikhail has returned, so be hasty with your greeting; he is your master.” She groaned at him, and their bickering invoked a struggle for dominance that was nothing short of feisty.

["reducere"] ["wrap"] I transported Darwen into the room, intending for their argument to continue. However, the bickering ceased abruptly once Darwen was fully inside. Violet also stopped her spiteful comments and looked at me with doubt in her eyes. Humans are indeed peculiar creatures. A second can change so much with the placement where the conversation takes place.

“Greetings, your holiness. You have finally returned from heaven,” Darwen said, bowing to me. Violet hastily left the room, fear evident on her face. What had transpired in mere seconds?

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“Darwen, I would like you to call me…” I pondered on a fitting term, considering "Lord Mikhail." However, he was my possession, so a more nuanced title was in order. Recalling his oath, I instructed him, “your master. You have vowed your livelihood to me, making me your master,” concluding my demand.

“As you wish, master,” Darwen sighed, signaling the completion of the formality. He removed his helmet to catch his breath, revealing not only his face but also something concealed within.

“The kingdom has been in turmoil during your absence, master. Marvos, having just relaxed from the work you eased off him, now faces an invasion from a vicious dragon,” Darwen confessed as he sat on the bed. The news was quite shocking, yet he delivered it fearlessly.

"Can humans normally kill such vicious creatures?" I ask curiously. Dragons are immortal and use a different form of language and mana known as "wild magic" or runic magic. They possess veins capable of conducting runic casts, potentially stronger than my instant casting.

"In your question, master, humans may indeed struggle and achieve a bitter victory against immortals, but it comes at a great cost, and mortals can't permanently kill immortals," Darwen sighs, shaking his head. It seems he's trying to cast aside his pride, fully embracing the mental toll of being the king's knight.

It's unusual for a human to express irritation against the seemingly impossible, but I applaud him for seeking help despite the potential for mistakes.

"What about the other archangels? Are they helping?" I inquire, recognizing that this is a serious matter. Mishandling could lead to war, especially considering the dragons' hierarchical structure. Despite their uncooperative nature, dragons still represent the "beast" faction.

"Lord Thirteen did intervene at times, but it's quite late, and many casualties have already occurred. Other holinesses only deemed it a trial for humanity to endure on their own," Darwen explains. Gabriel did have a hand in these events, and Camael might be a possible cause.

I remain silent on the heartlessness of the other archangels, dismayed that they choose to turn a blind eye. Archangels should bring shelter and salvation to the weak. With full control of the circumstances, I know I have to speak with Marvos immediately.

"Judging by your heart of gold, you won't desert us. I believe in you, master," Darwen confesses, bowing his head.

"I will do whatever I can, Darwen," I reply solemnly, contemplating that this will be the mission Father mentioned. It's the first trial where I work not as Lord Michael's replacement but as myself.

"About the spar before," Darwen continues. Is he holding a grudge over a minor incident? I trust it isn't out of malice or pettiness.

"It was good to have seen master’s powers. And I understand that I can’t ask to be taught with different weapons than my axe, so please teach me how to become stronger," Darwen declares, holding his head high to display his determination. I have no choice but to honor this camaraderie and noble cause.

"Do you know about body-enhancing magic?" I ask Darwen, gauging his familiarity. He seems neither oblivious to it nor well-versed.

"Doesn’t that require a fair bit of chanting even for priests and mages alike? It's tougher for warriors like me to concentrate during a fight," Darwen sighs a valid concern. However, I want him to master techniques that would make him a more valuable asset.

"Listen closely, Darwen. Remove your armor and attire. I'll teach you a quicker way to cast them," I command, and he complies without hesitation.

"Now, close your eyes and cast a spell that empowers you. I don’t really recall the mortal incantation," I lie, aiming to evoke his determination and carry out my directive.

[‘As faith as my armor’] [‘Fides’] A light magical armor envelops him after the incantation.

I summoned the wind to follow enhancement [‘Ventus’]. As I shout, "Remember the sensation of being sheltered by your spell. Picture it clearly, as if you are touched by it." I let the wind flow a few more times before letting it dissipate.

"Can you recall it now? The image of the spell shielding you from the pain of the cutting wind?" I ask, hopeful for positive results.

"It was clear in my mind, like an armor made of warmth," he smiles, rubbing his nose in pride.

"Now, think of that sensation again and visualize it in your mind as you say the spell name," I guide him with deliberate steps. Visualizing a simple armor should be within reach, even for someone without innate magical abilities.

[‘Fides’] He shouts, causing quite a commotion just for a basic shield. Nevertheless, it works well with his limited imagination, manifesting a light armor with his invocation.

"I did it! Master, did you see that?" Darwen laughs in satisfaction, and I'm pleased with his progress.

"Keep practicing. There might come a day when you surpass even mages in these skills," I encourage him while shifting my attention to Marvos. I wonder how he has been lately.

The end