After gardening for a few more hours till the suns are high in the sky, they finally make their way inside for a late lunch. Laying innocently on the table is an envelope, dark purple and carrying a wax seal shaped like a music note and a dagger. The invitation to Vae’s Creation Day.

Pluma is sitting right behind it, a furrow to his brow, as he paws at the letter, looking like he’s torn between tearing up the letter and batting off the table like a cat.

Asterius quickly scoops up the envelope before Pluma can decide how exactly he wants to destroy it. He already knows what’s inside, but he still goes through the motions, tearing open the wax seal and unfolding the purple gilded parchment.

“FateWeaver,” the letter begins, and there’s a distant pang in his chest, he had read the other invitations she had sent, the Original had kept them all upstairs in a locked box. Even if he never went, he obviously greatly appreciated her asking. The old Vae would always start the letters with “Spinster” however, not an ounce of professionalism ever present in her demands for him to show up.

“FateWeaver,

I hope this message finds you well. I would like to ask you to join me in two days' time for my Creation Day banquet. We can consider it repayment for helping my sister if that pleases you.

Warmest regards,

The Muse of Tragedy,

Vae.”

There’s a long quiet pause as he re-reads the message, unable to stop the small smile that spreads on his face at the last sentence, even if Vae didn’t remember him, she was still the same as ever. The guilt twists a little higher, especially at the sight of a green textbox appearing over top of the invitation.

[4th mission successfully registered!]

[Mission objective – Attend Vae’s Creation Day celebration.]

He waits for the mission objectives to appear, but even after a long pause, the System doesn’t say anything else.

‘System?’ he asks, ‘What do I have to do?’

[System’s databases are… empty.]

‘What?’

[System knows that Host must attend the party, but the requirements for a successful mission are blank. System doesn’t know what Host has to do!]

That’s somehow worse than knowing he has to ruin Vae’s birthday.

“Master?”

Ah right, he’s not alone. He takes a deep breath and forces a smile as he turns to Pluma, “yes?”

Pluma’s brow furrows, and if his beak could frown, Asterius is sure it would. Instead, he just ruffles his six white feathered wings and gives Asterius a stern look, “Master is thinking something silly again.”

“Pluma,” he scolds lightly, carefully folding up the letter and slipping it back into its envelope, he’ll add it to the box with the others later. “I was just thinking about what to get Vae.”

The little seraphim looks unconvinced, but seems to think better about arguing about it, “Okay then,” he grumbles tail lashing behind him, “what is master planning on?”

He glances slightly to his left, ‘System?’ he tries, ‘You might not be able to tell me what to do but at least you can tell me what Asterius used to send Vae right?’

[Checking databases….]

“I’m getting started on lunch,” Cadeyrn announces suddenly. Asterius turns back towards him, slightly surprised to see the demon has already kicked off his dirty work shoes and taken off his jacket. With hundreds of years of practiced ease, he ties an apron around his waist, and pushes his unruly curly hair over his shoulder and out of his face, “Any requests-“

Before he’s even done asking, Pluma is jumping to attention, eyes sparkling bright, “Fish!”

Cadeyrn tisks, moving things around in the pantry, “We had fish yesterday.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Please?” the seraphim tries, adding a whining edge to his voice.

“Vegetable soup then.”

Pluma glares at Cadeyrn’s back, stomping his little talons angrily on the table. “Meanie,” the angel hisses without any real heat. Before rounding on Asterius with a beseeching pitiful look, big blue eyes wide and watery, “Will master let Pluma help pick a gift?”

“Of course,” he agrees easily, he was planning on having Pluma help anyway after all. Asterius has no idea what sort of gifts are suitable things to give gods. Vae and Solveig had gifted him tea for his, and Asterius had gifted Pluma little trinkets throughout the years, the angel returning the favor with handmade gifts of his own, but he figures sending something as personal as an art piece isn't very normal among the heavens.

“Any ideas on what we should get master?”

“Well…,” he stalls glancing at the loading green screen, “I was thinking-,”

[Records retrieved!] the System informs him, [The most recent gift Asterius (God of Fate) gave to Vae (Muse of Tragedy), was a dagger of Genhhen craft.]

“A dagger?” he questions, realizing a second too late he said that out loud.

Pluma tilts his head in confusion, “Isn’t that what Master gave her last time?”

“Well-,”

“Master always gives her a dagger,” Cadeyrn helpful informs just as a text box appears that reads, [Asterius always gifted Vae daggers- Hey System was telling Host!]

He snorts slightly at the System’s annoyance at having its thunder stolen, before turning back to the confused looking Pluma, “Vae likes daggers,” he explains simply, pulling on his knowledge from the novel of her rather extensive weapon collection, (he pointedly ignores the pang in his chest at thinking how many of those where gifted by the OG), “Do you want to help me pick the design?”

Pluma nods eagerly, instantly perking up at the idea of being able to help. “A really pretty one!” he declares, “maybe blue? Or purple!”

“You can fuss over colors later,” Cadeyrn says, sliding a cutting board onto the table in front of them, “now help earn your keep, Feathers.”

“Meanie!” and this time Pluma makes no effort to hide the insult, but he still diligently shifts into his Vessel Form and begins attempting to chop carrots.

And lunch progresses as normal. The soup has a few strangely shaped vegetables in it, but no one comments. Pluma for his part looks rather proud of himself for Cadeyrn using any of his vegetables. The demon often had the little angel help, but 9 times out of 10, he never actually used whatever ingredient Pluma made. Asterius thinks the intent was to somehow encourage Pluma to cook better, though he didn’t fully understand the logic. He was getting results though and slowly Pluma has been getting serviceable with his cooking skills.

After lunch Pluma runs off for an hour, only to return with a basket of ores, all carefully labeled in a careful penmanship he doesn’t recognize. He thinks better than to ask where Pluma got these ore samples and just accepts them gratefully. For the rest of the evening, they discuss what metal the dagger should be, its length, style, and overall design as well.

Unsurprisingly Pluma knows next to nothing about any kind of weapon. Asteris knows a little more from too many action and horror movies, but he’s certainly no expert. Cadeyrn hadn’t been much help either, though he did give some insight into styles of blades that hurt more or were easier to use. (Asterius tries very hard to not think about HOW he knew all that.)

In the end, they settle on a rather simple design, a dagger forged from silver steel, with a star-themed motif. Pluma was the one who wouldn’t back down on the star theme, Cadeyrn seemed highly against the idea, but the little angel pulled out the puppy eyes- and it was all over.

In a vain attempt to help mend whatever careful and distant relationship the two had, Asterius sends them both to the weaponsmiths to have the dagger forged. Leaving just himself, the System, and the little star angels in the house.

He takes the time to question the System further, but the floating ball of code is unhelpful. The System really doesn’t have any requirements for passing the mission. At least it doesn’t until there’s a knock on the window, a familiar red hawk staring him down from the other side of the glass pane.

Asterius has no desire to approach the temperamental bird, but he can see a red envelope in its beak. So he hurries over and with trepidation snatches the letter away. The bird gives him a look he would dare call offended before it takes off into the evening sky.

Quickly he opens it, skimming the message, eyes catching on the name beautifully penned at the bottom, “Sanctus”.

[Oh host!] The system cheers, [Host’s mission requirements have been updated! Host needs to-] the message blinks away before he can finish.

“System?”

[System advises Host to sit down first before System tells.]

Oh, that was not a good sign. Still, it was best to probably listen to it. He carefully takes a seat, crumpling the expensive letter in his hands.

[The 4th mission objects are – Follow the orders of the High Seraphim. Only once all requests are fulfilled will the 4th mission count as complete.]

The lingering ache of worry and guilt grows into a gaping pit of fear.

He adverts his eyes to the letter in his hands, skimming the contents once more before settling on one line.

“I expect both our empress-to-be and that muse you are so fond of to both understand your new role, Starling.”

His heart catches in his throat even as his eyes continue to read, “You don’t need me to remind you of your role, do you?”

His vision swims slightly and he has to blink to refocus his gaze, a text box floating in the air before him tinting everything with a sickly hue.

[Before the celebration ends, Host needs to make both Maria and Vae believe he is the villain].