As much as you want Papyrus to be your additional escort, his parents desperately need his help in taking care of all those babies.
You’re alone with Sans again. Though he’s back to serious-mode, there was a livelier shine on his expression. Playing with baby Yellow did him good.
“So,” Sans asked, “Where do you wanna go?”
Mezil. You still have unfinished business with the tsun. Trial verdict stuff and whatnot.
“Wow, you still remembered your duties after passing out like that? Pretty cool.”
Hey, you’re too young to start forgetting the important stuff!
“Heh, I kid. Still, it’s nice to see your priorities straight. Let’s go.”
Therefore, Sans escorted you straight to Mezil’s last known location: the living room.
A heavy fragrance of black coffee filled the air. Tsunderjudge must have chugged down a week’s worth of caffeine to stay awake at this hour.
It appeared that you had walked right in the middle of a heated argument. Rosy-cheeked Chara confronted a man in special forces gear. He had brown, thick scruffy hair. Quite gravity defying, but not as much as Lady Lucy’s.
Upon closer inspection, you sensed a certain familiarity from that calm no-nonsense face, like a mix between Mezil and Cool Grandpa Edmund.
Chara crossed their leaves and snarked. “That’s funny, I don’t recall seeing a lick of you when that sniper wolf was going around shooting people.”
The man in uniform replied: “...Hm, can’t recall seeing you there either.”
“Yeah,” Chara pointed, “But isn’t it your job? The one you spent cowering behind a wall?”
“No one made it my job to confront a skyscraper-sized monster. Just like no one made it my job to value your opinion.”
You rubbed your eyes and pulled your ears. Chara? Being an angry kid? You expected that to be Flowey’s gig. But no, the angry flower in this scenario really was Chara.
The moment Flowey spotted you, he nudged a leaf at his friend: “We gotta scram. The big business is about to start.”
“No! Can’t you see, Azzy? Do you really want that poser to usurp Frisk?!?”
“You idiot. That’s not for YOU to decide! This is the grown-up’s battleground. We are totally out of our league.”
Chara stubbornly tried to continue their crusade against the human. In the end Flowey grabbed the other flower kid by the stem and dragged them away. Prince Asriel kept to his word: he grew up enough to control Chara’s troublemaking tendencies.
Either way, back to Tsunderjudge. You walked right up to him and observed his head of hair. Oh! Most of his wavy strands had returned to their night-black state! How did he recover? And when? You’re a bit out of the loop after dying and all.
The Tsunderjudge replied: “Sir Grillenn snatched back what was stolen during the fight and returned it to me. That was the sole reason why I could walk out of The Crimson Hall unaided. After that, I worked throughout the night to quell the fires Doctor Gaster started.”
Huh. The last moment you remembered was Papyrus crying over Persona’s death. Your SOUL hugged him for a while, and then… the next thing you knew, you woke up with an oxygen mask on your face.
“Papyrus left the Crimson Hall in quite a hurry. He must have felt your life fade from within. Exhaustion is the main cause of death for those who merge. Keep that in mind.”
You widened your eyes and gulped. Wow. Talk about dodging a bullet. You were luckier than you realised.
Wait… Does that mean Asriel and Chara would have been doomed even if they managed to avoid injury without fighting back? They needed to absorb more human SOULS to stay alive together?
“Possibly. But we’ll never know for certain. There’s no such recorded outcome.”
Looking at Tsunderjudge closer, you spotted a clump of grey hair sticking out from the left side of his head. Pointing towards it, you asked why that one bunch remained? Didn’t Grillby give back the entirety of the Stone’s magic?
“Persona had spent a fair amount. Besides, his corruptive Determination prevented Sir Grillenn from absorbing the Stone’s power in full. If you’re worried about another Hex, then put those thoughts to rest. Formless Determination dissipates the moment its owner perishes.”
That means Grillby is safe? Completely safe? Just making sure.
“Yes,” replied the tsun. “And so am I.”
You breathed a huge sigh of relief. But, just when you started to get comfortable, Mezil dropped the bad news:
“Unfortunately, it means I’ve also aged considerably. It’s possible that my reflexes have slowed somewhat. Also, my leg injuries started to bother me again. That will become an issue in future battles.”
Darn it to heck! Just when he’s back to his former glory, some doodoobutt had to ruin it.
“Such is the unpredictability of life. Anyways, enough about me. I must introduce you to your day-shift colleague.”
The Tsunderjudge motioned his hand towards the brown-haired human. “Meet my newly appointed Crimson Keeper, Lucas Fennel. Otherwise known as Lucas Moriarty.”
Moriarty…? The SAME Moriarty as Cool Grandpa Edmund?!
Lucas replied: “Yes. I’m… his grandson.” You sensed a tiny bit of awkwardness under all that professionalism. That’s quite the opposite compared to how he replied to Chara.
You stretched out your hand.
Welcome, fellow Crimson Keeper. More help is always good.
He accepted the gesture and shook back, albeit it was more for formality than friendliness.
The Tsunderjudge resumed his introduction: “Before his formal election this morning, Lucas was a Coordinator of the Observer division. You will need his skills for this coming scenario.”
Observer division? Coordinator? Those terms were lost on you, as you didn’t really know much about the Magi’s organizational structure.
“In a nutshell, the Observers deal with information. They complement Vanquishers who focus on eliminating demonic spirits. Investigators like Garamond specialise in intelligence gathering, often going incognito. On the other hand, Coordinators assist the Supreme Judge in tactical matters. They would often be the first to draft, communicate, and coordinate a plan with the rest of the divisions.”
The Coordinator coordinates. That’s straightforward enough.
“Spread around Ebott Town are six special squads, each led by their respective squad leader. They’re part of the first wave of defenders since the beginning of the curfew. Crimson Keeper Fennel’s job had been to coordinate between them. As you can imagine, he’s quite familiar with your town by now. That’s why he was the first to react to Doctor Gaster’s provocative experiments on live broadcast.”
Lucas’ expression turned sour. “Unfortunately, I was too late. I failed to stop him from causing this rotten mess of a riot...”
You tell Lucas that Doctor Gaster’s mad scientist scheming is nothing short of notorious, so please don’t be too harsh on himself.
“Yep,” said Sans, “Kiddo’s right. It’s difficult to outsmart Gaster. Can confirm. I was on the losing end for ages.”
Despite your encouragement, he still didn’t look happy. “I feel sorry for those children. Sir Grillenn showed me their requests. Their dreams... All denied because of that mad scientist.”
Requests? Grillby did that?
“Uncle, do you still have that piece of paper?”
“Yes.” Mezil handed a half-burnt piece of folded paper to you. “Read it.”
The contents summarized The Six’s personalities, their gender, cause of death, and their final wish.
Looking over your shoulder, Sans commented: “That’s Grillby’s handwriting alright. Welp. I’m not surprised if he got so angry, he set this on fire.”
And so in Grillby’s own words, these were the following statements:
‘Yellow, boy, an old friend. Cause of death: me. Dreams to be a treasure hunter, but decidedly decided to be indecisive.’
‘Green, boy, never fought a monster. Cause of death: heatstroke due to getting lost in Hotland. Wouldn’t mind becoming a Lich or a robot.’
‘Cyan, girl, occult enthusiast. Sister to Orange. Cause of death: the icy cold lands of Snowdin. Becoming a Lich would be her dream come true.’
‘Orange, boy, the responsible one. Brother to Cyan. Cause of death: monster-built traps. Becoming a robot is the coolest.’
‘Purple, girl, a former Magus. Cause of death: bacterial infection. Euthanized by Doctor Gaster. Second life, declined. Wants to meet her mother again.’
‘Blue, girl, ballerina in training. Cause of death, exsanguination. Her wish is to ascend as a goddess.’
Dagnabbit, Blue was the only one who got her wish.
“See what I mean?” Lucas remarked, “There’s no guarantee they will remember their past lives when they’re old enough. They might just completely forget about who they used to be. My sense of Integrity finds Doctor Gaster’s scheme to be extremely unethical, and incredibly selfish.”
Yeah. You understand why Lucas and Grillby would be angry at Gaster. Especially for Purple’s sake. She just wanted to rest in peace.
Unfortunately, what’s done is done. Special circumstances prevented you from rewinding back into the past. The best The Dreemurrs can do now is to provide them with the proper quality of life.
Anyway… From here onwards, you look forward to working together with Lucas to prevent any more mishaps like these.
He just nodded back at you. Awkwardness meter, rising.
After checking the clock, Mezil gave him a task. “Fennel, gather the Jury. It’s time.”
“…Yes sir.”
He excused himself and started making a number of calls. All the while, Sans kept watching his every move.
“Frisk,” Mezil called for you. “Alter Sans Serif’s Claim. Your mother’s clauses, in particular. They require revision. I already have her approval.”
Why Mom’s in particular?
“I believe there was something along the lines of ‘caring for the flower children’, if I’m not mistaken. The situation has deteriorated. I fear it will distract Sans Serif from more important tasks.”
No! You refuse! You know that Sans had yet to put that command to practice. Punishments must be kept true! What’s the point of setting up The List if it’s just going to be voided in the end???
Mezil slammed his cane down on the ground and yelled at you. “This is no time to be petty!!!”
The force of his words shook you. The Tsunderjudge can be tsun, but he’s rarely loud. At the corner of your eye, you noticed that even Lucas paused for a short moment: with a look of open surprise and concern.
Mezil took a moment to calm himself down. You channel your inner Patience too…
Back to his usual self, he explained: “Queen Toriel’s initial punishment would have worked if your country wasn’t at the verge of collapse. Sans Serif could have taken a local job and stayed relatively close. That’s not the case anymore.”
“At this rate, he could be sent out on a long mission for an indeterminate amount of time. Do you really want him to die just because he couldn’t make it back for his weekly flower babysitting?”
………………………
Thinking about it, you agree. You definitely don’t want Sans to die that way. Still, it doesn’t answer why it had to be Mom’s clause…
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“Other than Papyrus, her commands carry the greatest weight. He also has a vested interest in keeping her happy.”
That’s right. There was that Flying Dutchman dynamic going on between Mom and Sans. Theirs is a ghost ship that will never arrive at port. Such a tragedy.
You pulled out his SOUL to the surface. Your Claim glowed gently. Upon a thought, you commanded its inner MENU to open.
A black screen popped up, listing down his current punishments. You searched for Mom’s command. After pressing it, the option ‘EDIT’ and ‘DELETE’ appeared.
You clicked EDIT. What does Mezil want to change it to?
“‘Protect Toriel and the people she loves’. This will include you, Cenna, and the nation as a whole.”
Huh? ‘Toriel’? Not ‘Queen Toriel’?
“Yes, just ‘Toriel’. It’s not a mistake.”
Okay then. After inputting the revised command, you put everything back in its place: SOUL and all.
“Um,” Sans glanced to the side. “Just so you know, I did water the flower kids today. Gave rosy-cheeks some chocolate too.”
You pouted in annoyance. Why didn’t Sans tell this sooner?
“Hey, I know when a man is dead serious. Mezil’s got a lot on his mind. Look at him.”
Sans was right. Mezil always has a severe grimness when he’s doing business. But now, his visage had grown even darker than usual.
“Thank you." the Tsunderjudge said, “I know it sounds vague and thus liable to his extreme computations, but that may be what your family needs to survive. Flexibility is a boon in chaotic situations.”
A tense pause lingered. “…I can’t guarantee that I can continue to help you. That’s why I’m doing everything I can to prepare what you might need. I apologize for forcing your hand.”
He’s retiring… now? You thought he’s at least going to wait until you’re an adult.
Your concerns were interrupted by a pair of footsteps. Turning towards the sound, your face lit up with joy. It’s Cenna! You waved to greet her.
She grinned wide, showing her pearly whites. Delighted to see you alive and active, she rushed over to your side and ruffled your hair. Right after that, she reached into her pocket to give you a comb.
“Yoooooo, Frisky! You survived! God, I was so worried for ya.”
Likewise, sis. While you combed your hair, you asked her if she had recovered from Gaster’s fun gas?
Just the mere mention of yesterday’s events made her roll her eyes. “Yeah, real ‘fun’ alright. My knees got two big bruises from that nasty drop. Two, I tell ya!”
Do they hurt?
“Nah, luckily they don’t. Makes my skin look ugly though.”
Glancing at the busy Lucas, she said: “Ey, I see Luc’s here to help out. You’re in good hands there.”
Do they know each other?
“Yup. We’re colleagues! Not to mention dude’s the same age as me.” Leaning in to whisper into your ear, she added: “But as a Magus, I’m totally his senior.”
Aha! Cenna is the ‘senpai’ between the two.
Lucas must have overheard that bit when he finished his calls. With a playful smirk, he countered: “It’s not my fault that I had to start from college age. I caught up, didn’t I?”
Cenna went over to pat him on the back. “More than caught up there, Luc! You’re technically my superior now, being a Crimson Keeper and all. It’s just a shame you never signed up as a Vanquisher. Spice names are way cooler than herb names!”
“And be forced to fight you as my examiner? Not if I can help it.”
“Glad you remembered my reputation there!”
You wondered when Lucas had his Trial. Definitely not within the last few weeks, right? There was absolutely no time for that, considering the drama orbiting your life at the moment.
“Nah, nah,” she waved across her face. “He got his big exam done when he was twenty. That’s about… 5 years ago? Basically, he’s been booked for that position the moment the Crimson Keeper post gets reinstated.”
Huh. Seems that the Tsunderjudge had been scouting for candidates long before you came into the picture. You made an impromptu photo frame with your fingers, attempting to imagine Lucas as The Supreme Judge.
He immediately averted his gaze, clearly uncomfortable around you. Maybe because you’re a stranger?
By now, the others who had attended The Crimson Hall had started trickling into the living room. You started counting heads just to make sure the Jury was accounted for.
Aiden, Dayton, and Niton, check.
Cool Grandpa Edmund, check.
Commissioner Roger, check.
Victor the Junior, check.
Jacob and Rosemary, check.
That’s all the Jurors alright.
Lady Lucidia entered last. Recording equipment floated behind her by the power of Blue Magic. She’s kind of a one-woman show in retrospect, similar to Alphys. You had a hunch that it was out of necessity.
Mezil got up from the sofa to make space. He moved to a lone chair by the side. It made sense why he chose to do that. He’s the one to be judged. It wouldn’t be right to sit buddy-buddy shoulder-to-shoulder with the judge and jury.
Once everything was fixed, tuned, and settled, the serious business began.
Your heart tightened from the nerves, unsure of what this whole verdict stuff would entail in the long run.
Lady Lucidia explained in her familiar professional manner: “You are gathered here today for a verdict in The Trial of The Crimson Hall. The accused is Supreme Judge Mezil Thyme, evaluated by Crimson Keeper Frisk ‘Nokluirvanoic’ Wanderstar.”
“This morning, The Jury was asked to discuss yesterday’s Trial of the Crimson Hall on the basis of his observed words and actions through an examination of the heart. After which, each Juror was to write down their opinion and not disclose it to anyone else. The given options were as follows: Guilty, Not Guilty, and Withdraw.”
“Soon you will be revealing those votes one by one to Crimson Keeper Wanderstar, accompanied with a short explanation of your reasoning.”
“Note that minors under the age of 18 years -- unaffiliated with the Magus Association -- are given advisory roles. They are free to speak their minds. However, they will not cast a direct vote.”
“Once Crimson Keeper Wanderstar has weighed each opinion, they will cast their verdict. Bear in mind that a majority vote won’t guarantee the outcome.”
“Addendum: concerning the casting of a High Volition Mark, The Grandmaster has decreed that Supreme Judge Mezil Thyme will not be demoted to Category 3, Fallen. This is due to extenuating circumstances, including demonic possession, manipulation, and suggestion. Instead, should a Guilty verdict be reached, he is to step down from his position, effective immediately.”
“Does anyone have any questions?”
You raise your hand.
“Yes, Frisk?”
Pointing towards Sans, you asked if he should leave. You understand why Cenna is here, but you’re not sure about him.
Lady Lucy replied: “For confidential reasons, I require his direct and personal observation.”
You nodded back. As long as it’s work-approved, then it’s fine.
“We shall now begin the proceedings. As the eldest son of Persona and therefore the most directly affected, Aiden of Aratet should be the first to reveal his vote.”
With full resolution, Aiden showed his vote to you. The paper read: ‘WITHDRAW’, with big bold capital letters. “I choose to withdraw my judgement. Like it or not, I’m too much in The Vampire’s debt to be impartial.”
Fair enough. You accept his reasoning. What about the boys then? Do they agree with their father’s reasoning?
Dayton looked like he’s withstanding an invisible crushing pressure around him. He’s always braving his fears in quaking boots. You’re worried about his stress levels.
Does he want some tea? Coffee? Whichever he prefers to calm himself down.
Your kind offers backfired. “W-we’re not friends! Yet! Ugh, read the air, kid. Please?”
Niton chided his brother, “Why so rude to little god? Goddess? Not scare of punish? Not scare of curse?”
“Of course I’m scared! That’s why I can’t say anything! What if my thoughts offend the little god? Or the Vampire! I know how The Magi do things. It’s bad enough to have The Vampire sitting right in front of me. If I slip my tongue, we’re so, so dead!”
“Brother, this why elder think you weak. Actually, you strong, but keep too much inside! Like bomb!”
Ah. So that’s the situation. You don’t need perfect English to understand that Dayton finds himself in a very difficult position.
You let Dayton know that he can speak his mind freely, even if it’s unpleasant. Don’t become a bomb. He has your word as Crimson Keeper Frisk Wanderstar!
“R-really?” said Dayton, “E-even if it sounds stupid?”
Yes. Maybe his reasoning is sound in the end.
“Then... I don’t trust The Vampire. I heard from the elders about what he did ten years ago. He collected all The Chosen Ones from six and above. My brother escaped that event because he was four years old. Very lucky.”
“But, now he’s fourteen. What if The Vampire starts another roundup? We can’t hide Niton anymore. And… I… I don’t want him to be collected like an item.”
In other words, Dayton is afraid that Mezil, or another Magus Judge, would one day repeat the incident. You assure him that it’s not a stupid fear. It’s a very real possibility.
Glad to see that you understood his logic, Dayton’s entire body language showed instant relief. “T-thank you…”
Well, what does Niton himself think?
Unlike Dayton, he calmly replied: “I no understand what happened. Cannot make vote if dunno head or tail. Umm… How say? Big history behind words. Even if understand front, real meaning don’t get. So, don’t feel right to say guilty or not guilty. Also, Judge save life! Big, big debt, maybe cannot repay!”
Broken English aside, you get the gist. You accept both of their inputs.
Next up was Edmund Moriarty. You couldn’t find a speck of his usual jolliness on his visage.
Unfolding the paper, he showed you his vote. Not Guilty.
“I’m a private investigator,” he began, “Which means dealing with the worst of people. From petty drama, to adultery, to conspiracies that you wish were fictional. I understand where Mezil is coming from, and how complicated the circumstances can be. I’m not saying that I agree with everything he’s done. But one thing’s for sure… he never makes his decisions lightly.”
It’s an expected outcome. You don’t think he would be the kind who’d hang his family when it’s convenient. So, you accepted the vote as is.
You’re rather nervous about Roger. His real feelings were always obscured by a mountain of memes and slang. Would he consider Mezil guilty for contemplating murdering a baby? Did they have a history of arguing on the police job? Maybe they can’t agree on how to handle things?
The big man smacked his paper face-up on the table like a card game, yelling out: “Not Guilty!”
You were shocked by his bluntness. Explanation, please?
“You’re still kicking, kid! That means Old Thymer chose to protect you despite his bloody edgy hogwash. You think I’d arrest the bloke for thought crimes? What’s this, 2020? Goddammit.”
Why 2020 specifically?
“Didn’t they teach you whippersnappers anything in school? Well, I reckon it ain’t in your syllabus yet. See, in the years before my birth, magic school opened up to the public. At first, everyone thought it was a wee plaything. Party tricks. Illusions. Sleight of hand. Curious youngsters took classes like they’re the piano.”
“Then word got out that the gig is real. Crimes and accidents of the fantastical sort started to happen. Folk got hella paranoid about their mates, no matter how old: adolescent or retired. They think you’re into magic? Expect your address to be posted online for the death threats to roll in! That all blew up in 2020, into a giant cacophony of hot smoking turds. Big flaming riot and all! It was bonkers!”
“After that, it all kind of whimpered out. Everyone moved on. Onwards to the next bollocks, humbug, baloney, tommyrot, rubbish tripe and drivel to rage about in a never ending cycle of bullshit! That’s the kind of society I grew up in: the type where any wrong thought leads to a modern day witch hunt.”
Pointing a thumb to himself, he said: “I’m here today as Police Commissioner to keep your town intact and your citizens alive. Whatever angst Old Thymer had against your floofy family is none of my beeswax. So let’s get this distraction over and done with before we lose the plot!”
By Roger’s own standards, he’s light on the slang. You mean, you actually understood all of it. That must be how Serious Business Roger sounds like.
What about Victor? Jacob?
Victor placed down his vote next to Roger’s, reading ‘Withdraw’.
“Seonbae saved my life. Like the boy, I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him. If that means I can’t make an impartial judgement, I would withdraw for the sake of the case’s integrity.”
That makes two ‘Withdraw’ and two ‘Not Guilty’. Only the Westenbergs were left. Maybe there’s no need to get nervous anymore. Those two are direct family: brother-in-law and niece.
As the head of the family, Jacob handed their two pieces of paper to you in person. Oh? Interesting. After accepting it, you opened them up.
Both read ‘Guilty’. One was in classic cursive, and the other seemed a bit unstable. You could tell who wrote which, although it didn’t make much difference in this case .
…It appears that your imagination of a close-knit family was too naive.
Jacob held Rosemary’s hand. “Both my daughter and I voted ‘Guilty’.”
Their decisions caused immediate alarm. Cenna was ready to jump on Jacob for a good old’ collar grab, but her elders prevented her from doing so.
“Hold it, officer! You don’t want me to slap another suspension on ya.”
“Calm down, Cenna. Listen to them first.”
“Listen?!” she exclaimed. “That’s two Guilty votes. Two! That’s a three-way tie! This deadlock might get HIM suspended! We NEED Mez on active duty to handle the riot, dammit! We ain’t got time for opinions and shit!”
Roger barked, “All the more reason why you gotta cool your head! Otherwise your little sibling’s gotta handle it all by their lonesome!”
You understand Cenna’s frustration, but the Copman is right. If she acted out of line on record, it’s going to be worse for everyone.
In the end, her sense of Justice prevailed. “Argh, fine, fine. Say what you want to say already.”
Given room to speak, Jacob cleared his throat and explained his side: “I’ve never agreed with the drastic steps he took ten years ago. Even though I’m not an intellectual, I can see he’s been slipping down a dangerous path. This Crimson Hall deal proved that he needs a break. Badly. And if he still doesn’t change his ways… I believe he should step down.”
“I, alongside Edmund, watched Mezil grow up since he was a kid.” He continued. “Now, I’m his brother-in-law. Family must do what’s best for each other, even if it’s unpleasant. I can’t bear to see Mezil continue hurting himself.”
…You empathise with his thoughts. Looking at Rosemary, you asked her if she thought the same.
She answered with a fearful and shaky voice. “Why? Why is my uncle a Vampire Lord? Mom was right all along… I thought she was a selfish, jealous whiner… But it’s true… It’s the Winston curse…”
W-wha? Winston curse? Vampire Lord? Nani???
Your very inquiry caused her to flinch. She huddled up and squeezed her eyes shut as if you’re threatening her with a knife.“D-don’t come closer! You’re just as terrible! What kind of a ten-year-old has the power to DEFEAT a Vampire Lord??? You’re scary! Everyone’s scary! Why does Magic even exist???”
Then, she broke down crying. Jacob apologized for the unstable display of emotions and whisked her away. As a result, the room was left with an awkward dangle of loose threads.
Lady Lucy spoke up, “Crimson Keeper Wanderstar, Rosemary has demonstrated severe emotional and mental instability. She’s not fit to make proper judgement. Please reject her vote.”
That would definitely put Mezil in a better light. But… is that the proper way? You were reminded of Dayton’s concerns and Roger’s story about the early 21st century.
You told Lucidia that Rosemary’s vote shouldn’t be discarded. She represents the humans who’re spooked about magic. Ignoring their voices won’t stop the torches and pitchforks from showing up. The smoke at the borders proved that point.
Besides, a tie suits you just fine. It’s time for you to mull over the results. Do some study. Maybe try some diplomatic chatting. There’s no big rush to proceed with the sentencing as long as you travel back in time. Let the day loop until you reach a verdict.
Although reluctant, Lady Lucy accepted your decision. “Acknowledged. Proceed as you see fit. The Keys of Fate are yours to command.”
That brings you to Mezil himself. With everything up in the air, he may still help you. Right?
“No,” he replied. “I’m not as shameless as the corrupt. I cannot resume command when my credibility is formally questioned by a Crimson Keeper. Instead, consider me suspended until further notice.”
But you need his guidance! Mentorship! Leadership!
“I choose to be held accountable. No more sly loopholes. Your parents would have done the same.”
But!
“And about Rosemary, her mother behaved the same way when she discovered the truth about me. I’m no longer upset by such reactions.”
But!!!
“I’m tired.”
You heard no strength in that one sentence. His spirit was gone. Extinguished. Whatever left of his inner fire had become smouldering coals.
It’s heartbreaking to see him like this…
Lucas offered a hand to his uncle. “Would you want me to help you to your room?”
“Yes, thank you.”
And so Lucas helped Mezil up from the chair and escorted him to his sleeping quarters.
It was around that time that Aiden excused himself. “With or without The Vampire at the helm, I’ll manage. Come sons, we have much to do.”
Another family left the room. Before long, everyone silently parted in their separate ways, leaving you with your sister and Sans.
Free from the restraints of having to look professional, Cenna threw her arms in the air. “Great. Exactly what we need: losing the Big Boss at the worst hour. Blasted nine levels of hell. If I see those two again, I’m gonna flip!”
You honestly felt the same way about losing Mezil, although more inwards than outwards. Still, you don’t begrudge the Westenbergs for being truthful.
In hindsight, all the hints were there.
Lucas’ appointment…
Chara’s angry outburst…
The change to Mom’s command…
Your retention of the Keys of Fate…
No wonder Mezil talked about ‘preparations’. He foresaw the outcome, and the complications that followed after. Therefore, he prepared you a backup.
Tears started to pool near your eyes. The hopelessness of the pre-pinkie promise era had started to return, and you hated it.
Sans plopped his hand on your shoulder and said: “Despite everything, you’re not alone. So look on the bright side.”
T-true…
You stifled a chuckle. That’s rich coming from the edgiest edgebag here.
“Say what you will. Either way, you got some homework to do.”
Alright, it’s time to walk the talk. Let’s put those Keys of Fate of yours to good use!
Your determination to do your job well shines its light.
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