With a flick of his hand, Custodian closed the book, letting the words vanish into the crisp white pages before gently placing it on the delicate stand beside him. The silence of the room was filled only with the soft tap-tap of polished shoes approaching from his right.
Custodian lifted his cup, poised and elegant, as a man in black approached with a fresh pot of tea, steam curling up like a dancer. The fragrance of chamomile and lavender floated in the air, delicate and soothing.
“Thank you,” said Custodian, moving the cup close and taking an earnest sip.
“My pleasure, sir,” replied the man, his tone smooth and unruffled, as if tea service was the most ordinary thing in the world. He was a man of average build, not too tall, not too short, with a face that might blend into a crowd if not for the immaculate elegance of his appearance. His butler’s attire was faultlessly worn, every seam perfect, his hair neatly combed into place, no strands refusing to act on their own. Upon his chest was a small insignia, a crest of two hawks engaged in a wild and graceful battle, frozen in mid-air with such detail it seemed almost alive, their wings arcing into a perfect circle.
He placed a fresh tray of pastries—delicate and golden—on a nearby table, refilling the already neat arrangement of sweets with mechanical efficiency. He was a natural, a professional.
"I trust your… conversation went well?" he inquired with a slight bow, his eyes never leaving the task at hand.
Custodian lowered his cup just enough to offer a faint smile, though the glint in his eyes spoke volumes more. “Indeed. It appears that a young noble girl, a person by the name of Enya Empyria, has received the necrosmith class, instead of stumbling upon the book by happenstance.”
The butler paused, his hand mid-motion as he set down the kettle, an eyebrow arching slightly before he composed himself again. “You said… Enya… Empyria, sir?”
Custodian’s eyes didn’t leave the tea. “Indeed. I already know what you’re thinking. I had the same question myself. But it appears her name truly is Enya Empyria. I sensed no hint of deception in her words. Apparently, she lost her memory two months ago. Convenient, wouldn’t you say? However, her status screen explicitly listed her as ‘Enya Empyria,’ from what she said, so perhaps it is a coincidence. She seemed naïve enough to reveal to me some… rather important information, so I sense no trickery at play.”
“That would certainly be… quite the coincidence.”
Custodian gave a soft chuckle, though his face remained neutral. “Indeed, it is, Lain. Quite indeed.”
He reached over and delicately lifted one of the white-frosted pastries from the small plate beside him. “How are the Empyrias faring these days, Lain?” he asked just before taking a bite, crumbs lightly dusting the air as he did so.
Lain moved quietly across the room, returning the kettle and fresh batch of pastries to their respective places. The room they occupied was modest in size, far from the grandiosity one might expect. Small, yet suitable for Custodian’s particular needs—hidden, concealed, cut off from the world around him.
A chandelier of glass, hanging low from the ceiling, bathed the space in a soft, steady glimmering glow and warmth. It wasn’t the typical spell-powered enchantment, but rather one of modern ingenuity—what the engineers of Meltan referred to as "bulbs." Each little light sparkled within a delicate globe of glass.
Custodian lounged in a plush, cushioned chair, large enough to recline in comfortably, enchanted to ensure it wouldn’t tip back too far. The chair faced a round red carpet, intricately woven with gold and silver threads that twisted into intricate patterns upon the softness.
Bookshelves lined the walls, each packed to the brim with tomes—some ancient, their spines cracked with age, others newer, neatly arranged. To the front of the room stood an ornate door, designed with hand-carved images—scenes of forgotten battles, swirling magic, and mythical creatures locked in combat. To either side, more doors, almost equally as grand, but slightly less so.
The room bore no windows, and the absence of natural light made it feel even more secluded. Only the chandelier’s light gave life to the room.
“To my knowledge, sir, after the attack, Helmutt’s soldiers were ordered to take anyone bearing the Empyrian name as prisoners. The rest—regular citizens—were either enslaved or executed,” Lain said, his tone even and unchanging.
Custodian tapped his fingers on the armrest, eyes still on his tea. “And the Empyrian family itself?”
Lain hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Most of them appear to be alive, sir. I’ve heard no reports of direct killings within the family. If they were dead, Helmutt would surely have proclaimed it as a spoil of war. Given his… disposition.”
Custodian gave a soft chuckle, his face barely moving. “Yes, that braggart does love a good performance. He’ll boast his way into an early grave one day.” He took another delicate bite of his pastry and dabbed his lips with a napkin, every motion precise.
“And this Enya Empyria,” Custodian mused, “is there any record of her?”
Lain’s brow furrowed slightly. “Not to my recollection, sir. Would you like me to investigate further?”
“Yes, though it’s hardly a top priority. I’ve no desire to entangle myself with the trivialities of noble houses. They’re always so... predictable. However,” Custodian’s lips curled into a smile, “do find out if this Enya girl is truly of the Empyrian line. If she is… a high noble necrosmith—” He paused, a sudden, hearty laugh escaping him. “—now that would be a delightful little twist.”
“As you wish, sir. I’ll have someone look into it immediately.”
Custodian waved a hand, brushing the matter aside as if it were an afterthought. “Good. Now, fetch Marianne for me. This Enya girl had some curious questions about souls and dungeons. Refreshing, really, to meet another Grim Pullet holder. I’d like to keep the conversation going, for appearances’ sake, if nothing else.”
Lain gave a small bow, his posture straight as he moved toward the grand door at the end of the room. He raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the symbol etched into the center of the door shimmered to life. A series of quiet, yet intricate mechanisms spun into motion, the gears turning with a soft click until the door opened with elegant grace.
Stepping through, Lain repeated the same motion, closing the door behind him with the same grandiose motions. The room fell silent once more, save for the gentle hum of the chandelier’s bulbs above, casting their warm glow over Custodian’s thoughtful expression as he reached for another pastry.
Custodian sat quietly for a few moments, finishing his delicate pastries. Strawberry-flavored, with a hint of elven tears—a rare delicacy he had the exclusive right to buy. No one else could enjoy these particular sweets without his say-so, and that fact gave him a small, satisfied smile.
Once his snack was done, he stood and walked over to one of his many bookshelves, where a red book with intricate floral engravings awaited. He picked it up, and with a simple flick of his thoughts, the book opened in his hand, its blank pages gleaming. He mentally commanded it to record his thoughts, and words began to form on the previously empty page.
Custodian strolled back to his chair, the book still floating in his hand as he reclined comfortably. Only a few seconds passed before the page started to fill with a response—words that were most definitely not his own.
Custodian smirked, already anticipating the banter.
The words practically stomped across the page.
Custodian’s lips twitched as he fought the urge to laugh.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
A few seconds of silence followed. Custodian patiently waited, staring at the page for Jira’s reply.
Custodian let out a sigh. It didn’t translate to the page, but he was sure that Jira could sense it, regardless.
Custodian frowned.
Custodian chuckled, a slow amusement-filled expression unfurling as a genuine smile crept upon his face.
The final words shimmered on the page, then faded away into the ether. Custodian placed the book atop his own copy of The Grim Pullet and leaned back into his luxurious chair, his eyes wandering lazily to the corner of the ceiling above him.
There was no denying it—he was involved in some greater ploy, strings pulled by forces far beyond what met the eye. With all the influence and power he wielded, how could it be otherwise? No matter the source of the machinations, including him was the logical move.
Custodian’s smile deepened as he muttered to himself, "Things are about to get very interesting."
image [https://i.imgur.com/ZiLMGqb.png]
With those final words from Custodian, the writing on the page began to vanish. Enya closed the book, watching as it faded from her hands, dissolving into shimmering particles that disappeared into the air. She let out a small sigh. Custodian had only started talking to her again after about half an hour of silence. But in that time, she had made herself busy—filling out her diary with another entry, and working on the light spell she’d been engraving onto Walnut’s skull. Now, both of her skeleton minions glowed faintly in the dark, like two cute, creepy little lanterns with bones for bodies. “Okay, let’s go guys!” Enya said, happily prancing up the stairs. It was time to get rid of her most scary, but also the most annoying, threat. Once she reached the study, she made her way straight to the door. Walnut and Dummy D. trailed closely behind. With a small nudge, Enya opened the door to the study, and her eyes shimmered. Her senses extended forth down the hall. It was hard to judge how long Enya had been asleep when she passed out upon returning to the study. This combined with her multi-hour engraving experiment made it even rougher to guess. Surely, no more than a day had passed by, right? Within a few seconds, Enya spotted the demon rat. It was still impaled onto the bone spike she had created. Blood trailed down the bone spear, turning it from a coarse white, into a blackened brown and red spike. No signs of movement came from the rat, but she could sense it still breathing. It was weak—almost too weak to even be alive anymore. In that state, Enya could probably throw a rock at it, and it would die. She retracted her senses after confirming the rat was near-dead. “Okay!” She spun on her heel to face Walnut and Dummy D. “The demon rat is still there, stuck on my bone spear! All you guys have to do is stab it a few times—no, wait, a lot of times. Just keep stabbing the same spot! Or… um, maybe stab it everywhere in the same spot? Yeah, that should work!” Her minions looked at one another, before turning their gaze back to Enya and nodded. With an exquisitely crafted plan formed, all three of them left the study and traveled down the hall at a leisurely pace. As they moved further down the hall, the ground became more fractured and crumbly. The vibrations that had occurred before had almost decimated the entire hallway as cracks webbed all over the walls and ceiling, upturning dirt on top of rock. Not long after setting out, they finally arrived at the now-impaled demon rat. Enya’s skeletal companions shifted their stances as the grotesque creature came into view. Dummy D. raised a dagger high, his other arm held out protectively, while Walnut gripped a sword with unwavered determination. Enya trailed closely behind them, but kept a careful distance. Her eyes were glued to the demon rat. The same thing that had chased her all this time. The same monster that had killed Pell and Mr. Bones. It was going to get what it deserved—and then some. “Go ahead, guys,” Enya whispered, her voice barely a breath as she waved her hand forward. Dummy D. took a cautious step, inching toward the demon rat. The creature lay motionless on the bone spike, its stillness giving it an eerie, trophy-like quality. Walnut mirrored Dummy D.’s approach, drifting to the left. The two skeletons flanked the rat from opposite sides, each poised to strike. As they crept within weapons’ length toward the demon rat, it suddenly spasmed. It screeched, but the sound was muted and visceral, as if its vocal cords had been crushed and torn apart, and blood instead filled its throat. Its tail tried to swing, but it was too far up into the air, and instead twitched, as most of the nerves connected to it were already severed. All this did was pool more blood out of the spike’s wound. The moment the horrid noise escaped its throat, both Walnut and Dummy D. lunged at the creature’s skull. With a swift, practiced motion, Walnut’s sword sliced through the air, embedding itself deep into the rat’s head, the tip bursting out beneath its cheekbone. Dummy D.’s dagger followed, plunging in from the side and sticking perpendicular to the skull, the blade sinking in but not quite piercing through entirely. The rat’s wail instantly died, its limbs collapsing limply at its sides. Ding! System Notification: You have landed a killing blow on Rattle Rat (Level 11). You have received 272 EXP. Your level has increased from level 3 to level 7. You have gained 1 skill point. Experience Remaining Until Next Level: 19/163 New Class Quests are now available.