Kael was truly diabolical at the moment. He hurriedly dipped a quill in ink and grabbed a piece of parchment, frantically writing. However, even in such a rush the characters he wrote were all neat and orderly, evenly spaced, there was no smudge and no ink was spilt. The parchment did not fold and the quill was returned to the inkwell. Truly a perfectionist. Hearing all of these unnatural sounds, the snake noticed a bit too late that it might be turned into Roast Reptile.
The snake then felt it being lifted off the ground, and this feeling of lightness continued for a while- until the speed it was going at was so great that the snake was smashed against the walls of the box. Instinctively, it shrunk even more so that its tail would not smack its own face. Then, the box was heavily dropped, and the snake was holding on for dear life.
“I don’t want to die, you bastard!” Is what if would have said…if it could speak.
But by the time it felt the embrace of a surface, the snake had given up on everything. It was fully prepared to be brutally crushed like a fruit fly buzzing around a hungry, homeless man. Unexpectedly, it had survived the daunting journey.
But it was tired. It had just received fatal injuries, then got threatened multiple times by a human, then got almost killed again. The snake made a mental note to bite Kael’s fingers off when he saw him again…if he saw him again. With a rough idea of what was happening, but still a sense of anxiety, the snake just decided to sleep- sleep made everything better. It curled into a ball inside the dark box, falling into unconsciousness in the cover of false night.
While it was in sweet slumber, unbeknownst to it, the lid of the box opened, the heavenly light filling the box. Opening it was a youth with pale green eyes and yellowish-brown hair. His eyes were red- perhaps he was sobbing for the past three hours. He took the parchment that was attached to the lid of the box.
“Riven, do me a favour. Take care of this snake for me. Also conduct some research on it if you can.” Riven read the words. He was in a daze, and could not remember the snake that Sir Kael had was identical to the one before him. So instead of the taken aback expression he would have had, he merely cursed, “what the fuck.” But nonetheless, he carried the box with the sleeping snake into his dorm, while wondering who had such perfect handwriting.
The man with perfect handwriting was speeding down the mountain, jumping over rocks and using his sword to cut through vines. There was a paved path and stairs that led down the mountain. But there were too many people there to witness the Swordmaster jumping down flights of stairs and too few people to give way for it. This route was not exactly a shortcut, and was indeed quite a hassle to go through, but it was faster this way.
At a certain point, Kael inched closer to the stairs, and began leisurely walking down the long flights of stairs. There was barely any sweat on him- he looked like the epitome of leisurely and nonchalant, and that was the objective. When Lord Felt caught sight of him, not realising of his actual ‘usual antics’, said, “Kael, I see you’re still at your usual antics. As leisurely as ever, I see.”
Most would see the smiling face of Lord Felt and think that the Yerr Clan wanted the Spellmaster dead for decades and the ‘search parties’ were all a formality for rumours not to spread. Kael was quite confused as well. But unbeknownst to the man who was mothering a reptile, the mighty Lord of the Yerr Clan was smashing things in his room for a solid hour- and his wife was crying, praying to the divine that Thalorin would come back home. He even put on a bit of his wife’s makeup to cover the redness at the rim of his eyes and paleness of his face. He was a leader, after all. And a leader could show no weakness.
“Forgive me, my Lord.” Kael said, monotonous as ever. Like a puppet controlled by demonic energy. Lord Felt would never admit it, but he had in fact once investigated Kael for this very reason. He was too monotonous, stoic and lifeless- the characteristics of a demonic puppet. However his investigation was futile of course as that was just the way that the Swordmaster functioned.
The Lord sighed heavily, and closed his heavy eyes for a few seconds before saying “Kael, why don’t you just call me Felt. Because now, you’re the only man who can. And I really do want to hear my own name sometimes.”
Kael paused. The only people who could call the lord by his calling name were himself, Thalorin and the lord’s wife. However, Kael never took it upon him to get intimate with anybody- so he referred to him by his title to put some distance. But with the Spellmaster’s demise, the only man who could call his name was Kael. His wife was out the mountain on errands most of the time as well, so there truly was nobody who could utter his name.
Well, too bad then. It was not his concern.
“Forgive me, my Lord.” Kael said as a finality, ending the discussion. Lord Felt had a glimmer of hope, a very small ray. But hearing this response, even though that ray of light had been replaced with utter darkness, he was not surprised and merely chuckled.
The awkward silence from there perched itself upon the two’s shoulders at they made their way down the mountain. In truth, they were not likely to find anything. What Kael’s sharp senses could not pick up the previous night could not be picked up on the day, unless something entirely new emerged. And any traces that might have been left were washed away with the sorrowful rain.
So the two fools walked foolishly, retracing the path that Thalorin had disappeared too into the dead of the night. But the two were walking quite leisurely, so it would take quite a while to reach the dense part of the first at the foot of the mountain. Lord Felt decided to break the silence, as he knew Kael would not open his mouth otherwise.
“Kael, Thalorin once said something about you to me. I find it quite the observation.” Hearing the taboo word come out of the Lord’s mouth, Kael was taken aback. Of course, he did not show it on his face, but he felt heavy when the name was uttered.
Kael looked at the lord, awaiting a continuation. The Lord chuckled lightly but heavily at the same time. “If my memory serves me right, these were his exact words…”
The sunset reflected upon the crystal clear water of the river. On the riverbank sat two men, idly chatting amongst themselves. From their hands extended a type of taut wire- they were fishing.
If one were to look upon them, they would guess that the two were just good friends who were merely leisurely fishing. However, none would guess that the two were actually junior and senior who spoke with no honorifics, and were currently in the midst of a heated battle.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Goddammit…why the hell are none of these little shits coming to me?” The aged man on the right cursed, obviously frustrated. Next to him was a bucket filled to the brim with fish. Any fisherman would say that that was a feat in itself.
However, that would be until they looked to the left. “Haha, none can defeat me in this aspect. I guess I have some sort of…affinity with these sweet creatures. You call them little shits and curse at them but I, a kind and gentle soul, embrace the beauty of their existence.” Ironically, the moment he said that a fish was heading towards his bait it swam towards the aged man, and he promptly took the moment that it bit down on the bait. This caused the youthful man to yell “FUCK THIS LITTLE SHIT.”
The aged man just stared at him smugly. No words were needed to express what he wanted to say.
Kind and gentle soul, huh???
The young man stared daggers at him. “I could use a spell and blow up this entire lake right now.”
The aged man smiled innocently and answered. “I could tear your spirit out of your body, rip it to shreds and use them as bait on my rod.”
A second passed. Two. Three.
The two men burst into laughter. “Oh, I’m so frightened, I might have wet myself.” the young man howled.
The aged man laughed heartily before he suddenly stopped. In all seriousness he turned to the young man- “Well, I shall grant your wish then.”
Before the young man could even process the words, he realised that he had come into contact with the crystal clear water of the river. The water seeped into his clothes, and he truly became wet. Fortunately he was a good swimmer and promptly rose to the surface, and made a rush for the feet of the aged man, yelling “YOU’RE GONNA PAY FOR THIS, FELT!”
“Respect your elders, Thalorin!” Felt laughed as the young man’s hands passed through the legs of the old man- the legs were an illusion. In truth, he was sitting crossed-legged with his fishing rod long abandoned at his side.
Thalorin sighed defeatedly, climbing back up to the riverbank, drenched from head to toe. “You’re just jealous of my voluptuous catch, aren’t you?” Thalorin sneered, holding up the large fish on the ground. The fish had golden scales, and was half of Thalorin’s height. It’s eyes had no pupils- the fish was known to be blind.
Felt sighed, admitting his defeat. “It seems rare- I myself have no idea what kind of fish it is. But, you have a greater affinity for water…perhaps that’s why you managed to get quite the catch. The fish were basically asking for it!”
Thalorin merely hmph-ed pridefully and slung the golden fish on his shoulder, while carrying the two filled buckets of fish he caught. Felt grabbed his pitiful, singular bucket and walked at his side, as the two engaged in idle chatter.
“Perhaps Kael might know what kind of fish this is- he’s always reading.” Felt observed the golden fish on Thalorin’s shoulder.
“He might, and it’s always the most earth-shatteringly BORING books ever. What do you mean, you couldn’t hear me yell your name because you were engrossed in reading fucking ENCYCLOPEDIA OF HERBAL PLANTS???” Thalorin shuddered at the thought…or maybe it was the fact that he was completely drenched.
Noticing the shudder, Felt asked “...Can’t you just cast a warming spell to dry yourself?”
Thalorin shook his head, “I’ve got to make a point that the almighty Lord of the Yerr Clan would bully a sweet junior.”
Felt snorted. “You’re the only person who dares to say such a thing.”
Thalorin’s blue eyes were locked on Felt’s brown ones. “When in distress, the pupils dilate. When in boredom, the eyes lack spark. When one is displeased, their eyes become hideous. And you-” He chuckled lightly. “Your eyes look less ugly when you’re teased and laughing, rather than being called some ‘almighty lord schlord’”
Felt smiled. “I’ll take that as an insult against a senior- off to the guillotine you go.” He said that lightheartedly, but in reality, with Thalorin’s high energy it was impossible to evoke calm within someone. Anyone by his side will be laughing, snorting, or smiling meaningfully. He always brought about the best in people and made people feel the best about themselves. No wonder there were piles of love letters slotted under the door of his residence, despite the price of parchment these days.
Felt then paused, feeling curiosity creep up his tongue. “Thalorin…what does Kael call you?”
By the sudden change in topic and mood, Thalorin was shocked. But despite that, he closed his eyes and pondered for a few seconds, trying to remember before answering “...he doesn’t really call me by name. I think the closest I can get is him saying ‘You foolish Spellmaster!’ Why do you ask?”
“He refuses to call me by name either…even though he’s been here for quite a while. Probably almost a decade…I think that he doesn’t do it out of respect, either.” He sighed. He just could not figure out anything about Kael. He and Thalorin were about the same age, but could not be more different. While he cared for both of them deeply, he found Kael to be…forcefully detached. It could be said as his nature, but it seemed off.
Thalorin sighed. “Kael…that guy…he’s like a mythic beast. You could have all the money and status in the world and manage to buy one, but it depends on who you are to get it to be your familiar. It cannot be forced. He certainly feels trapped here. He’s only here because he has nowhere else to go, probably. Given the chance, he would run out of here first thing.”
Felt looked conflicted. “Your analogies…never cease to surprise me but…they always seem to make sense.”
Thalorin smiled. “I am a master poet, after all.”
Felt pondered for a moment before adding, “Why do you say that Kael feels trapped here? He was the one who chose to stay when I took him in.”
Thalorin shook his head. “I have no idea what happened before my arrival, but what state was he in? If he had a favourable situation in the outside world, why would he even stay?”
Felt gave it a quick thought before answering, “...yes, that makes sense.” He sighed. “That boy…whatever do we do about him…”
Thalorin just smiled at that, and then his eyes widened slightly, as he does whenever he “gets a stroke of inspiration”. He then quickened his pace so that he was in front of Felt, then turned his body so that he was facing him, walking backwards.
“The sword tears, the eyes glare. Clad in white, what a sight. A story untold, words like gold. Hearing him speak, it brings you to your feet. Melodies like the wind, strings plucked on a whim. Secrets unfold, words heavier than gold.” He then nodded to himself, clearly satisfied.
Felt was more than accustomed to his junior breaking out into poetry. However, there was a part of the poem that stumped him. “What is this about melodies?” he queried.
At that, Thalorin chuckled, “The esteemed swordmaster of our humble abode is a master musician. I was at his residence to ask him for…something I forgot, but anyways, he cast a really pathetic barrier spell which I could hear through and was playing the lyre. Spirits above, I almost thought that a demon possessed him- but it was very pleasing to the ears.”
“...that is rather unexpected.” Felt could not help but be shocked at this sudden revelation. A swordsman playing a string instrument? Were his junior’s fingers alright?
“I thought so too. Kael…he really is secretive. The only thing we know about him is that he’s a survivor from the Jelaire war…and…and…THAT’S ALL?” Thalorin was too fed up to even think about it.
“You know him for three years, I know him for ten. Yet, we both know the same.” Felt sighed.
The grand stairs leading up to the mountain were in sight, and immediately both spell and spirit masters used a concealing spell to hide the buckets of fish, fixed their clothes, and closed their mouths. The fishy smell from both of them was replaced with a scent of mild fragrance. The arrogant Spellmaster who was walking backwards took his position a few steps behind the Lord.
Not a hint of a smile remained from their previous banter as they professionally but rather
depressingly, in Thalorin’s opinion, they made their way up the stairs as members of the Clan and residents of the village greeted them with the utmost respect. They probably thought that the two masters were out on an official errand. Oh, how little did they know.
They were not Thalorin and Felt anymore, they were the Spell and Spirit masters. Junior and senior. Subject and Lord.
As they always did.
Hearing that his two comrades had been gossiping about him behind his back, Kael was not pleased. But of course, what could he do? Curse at a dead person? Harass the lord? So he just remained silent, wondering what the point of this discussion was.
It was probably along the lines of “Kael tell us why the fuck you’re still here.”
Kael sighed and acted oblivious, “What is the reason for divulging this to me, my Lord?”
Lord Felt closed his eyes, weary. “That was two days ago.”
The moment the words left the lord’s mouth, it was like someone shackled him in the depths of the dungeon and gave him cruel lashings on a whip, striking old wounds. Kael realised that the lord had not told this story to simply earn his sympathy.
“It was the last time he came down the mountain…the last time he uttered his ridiculous poetry.”