2. Busy Butler

Day 1 after the Transfer

Sebas 1

The halls of the fifth floor were devoid of sound save for the head butler's resonating footfalls. The royal serfs who would customarily be present for cleaning and guarding were now absent by the order of the king in his want for loneliness.

Sebas Tian was rather dismayed at this queer behaviour in his liege. However, he did admit that the day heralded forth a major step forward for the kingdom— to be an empire in the near future— a leap in its rebuilding and expansion. It would have been stranger for the king to display no oddities, yet this was out of the norm.

Perhaps even a bit extreme. 

Though that might be because he knew not how to tackle this new strangeness the king had adopted.

The dragonoid allowed himself a sigh and some lax in his stoicism. A display he only dared to show in the absence of judgment. A look to the left and he saw his current image reflected to him upon the pristine white marble walls striped with gold and jade.

An aging man with short greying hair and a similarly short trimmed beard stared back at him, eyes sharp and blue. An immaculate butler suit edged with platinum fabric adorned his body, and a pair of black leather patents on his feet. In his right hand was a folder of files retrieved from the surveillance department along with reports of vague origins.

His lips twisted into a small frown, a slight furrow in his brows accompanying it. Never was it a pleasant day when his king's unnamed unit submitted reports along with the normal bunch. He just hoped this would not add to his liege's odd mood.

Or worse, morph it into pure displeasure and frustration.

The gleaming fluorescent light— the likes of which hung countless on the pale reflective ceiling in the form of pendant orbs and priceless chandeliers— caught his mildly wrinkled face in his moment of over thought and wild rumination.

His head returned frontward, and he noted he was just a few dozen steps from the king's private study. Normally, there would be two royal guards decked out in epic-grade armour and weaponry guarding the gilded ornate double doors but today it was bereft of these noble sirs. In their place were the unseen shadows of his king, hidden in places one would find difficult to discover.

Yet unlike most the dragonoid was able to perceive them without much hardship, the boons of his draconic heritage granting him exemplary sensory capabilities that bordered the realm of mythic. Not to mention the treasures the hider warriors were equipped with. They carried with them the stink of power and reaped lives, however phantom it had become.

Though he did admit that the entire castle did mask the worst of it, given the grand value of the entire building and the Yggdric Force that wafted off it. Yet Ninpō did give off a unique scent.

Ku!

A dark practice of utilising the energies of void to facilitate concealment Hiden.

Sebas was able to hide his disdain for the mujin, though he felt that deceit only rang true in his mind. He was in no way a cold face devoid of any expression— doubtful any noble soul was— his stoicism was no blockade of emotions, merely a professional front he felt necessary in this line of employment and high judgment.

His attention towards the mujin was brief and cold. And they in turn did not accost him nor bar his way, not that their efforts would bare any fruit upon his person.

…an insidious train of thought, he noted.

Now that was a disconcerting surprise. He wondered if his master was not the only person inflicted by a mood of oddity this fine day, or mayhaps his own hostility was a symptom of his king's current state.

His liege did certainly possess an oppressive presence about him— the great boon of his transcendent bloodline— thus such a possibility was not out of the norm. Nor was it that absurd to assume.

Yet Sebas was a man of principle, not a cowardly cur who would foist his own shortcomings upon other peoples.

'I'll need to find time to meditate on these feelings of mine,' he decided. 'Queer they might be but the mujin were among one of the most loyal lot to the crown. My own beliefs need not cloud that fact.'

It was truly unlike himself to desire conflict with those he disagreed with, much less a violent one, the demonologist not withstanding of course.

The butler took a breath, centring his emotions.

The huldar-oak door loomed before him, though they were not as suppressive as the throne doors. These were a pair of brown varnish doors littered with numerous scarletite in a form of a rippling circle with each fragment housing a specialised defensive enchantment. The handles were a silver circle with simple holds for push and pull, themselves devoid of any spell tampering.

They were quite an exquisite piece, if a bit mild in wastage.

He came to a stop mere inches before the doors, a fleeting sense of nervousness within his heart. While his king's order did bar actual wander, he did not prohibit official visitations. Yet even with that, the butler felt the weight of reluctance take residence upon his shoulders.

Did his king not deserve this moment of silence? Who was Sebas to rob him of this leisure?

The dragonoid blinked.

…again, he acted unlike himself.

Was it truly his liege's influence that disturbed his emotions so?

It truly mattered little what his feelings were on the matter. All he needed to understand was that he was primarily here to deliver the lady queen's request to her royal husband, a beckon the dragonoid knew his king would be overjoyed to oblige.

He looked down his hand holding the orange folder— he already skimmed the surveillance files as was his duty as an aide to his liege— these documents were not truly a priority, save for the black report.

An exhale once more came from his lips, the simple action performed in pair with the ripple of the butler's Ki, both internally and externally.

The mujin did tense at the metaphysical shift, he sensed, but they were just as quick to calm when no danger was perceived.

A frown almost morphed his lips at the mere presumption, yet his tact won out.

His Ki managed to smooth back his attire to its pristine grace, though in all fairness it never lost its splendour, as was the butler's near flawless elegance.

Yet nerves were never a thing of logic when taut.

As soon as the dragonoid resolved himself and made to knock— an action provoked by the absence of proper guards— the door jawed open with nary a screech.

————————

The dragonoid's simple entrance within the private solar of his king was slow and deliberate, a patience close to stiffness haunting his muscles. His eyes roamed the splendid study, searching for something he had not yet decided on, yet was all the same determined to discover, lest his liege sense the awkward tenseness wafting off his person.

His blue eyes flickered towards the dark brocade walls coated with gold, a steady gaze roaming over the disenchanted three-pin lanterns mounted on the walls and the tasteful gilded artworks occupying a central section of each wing.

Situated on the central-most part of the east wall was a marvelous fireplace, barred by a thin golden fence, with a lounge chair placed a few steps beside it and a small table to place leisure books…

The hearth did not dance with fire, he noticed, nor was there any trace of its recent burn.

Yet that was no interesting sight, much so given that the sun was up and about.

…a pair of soft cherry couches sat opposite each other with an ornate black painted coffee table in the middle of the room, and a gem filled chandelier hung atop them like a floating crown.

Behind Sebas, the doors closed with a soft click, and the butler took that as indication to walk towards his liege's desk still empty of parchment and paper.

As he moved, his attention finally turned towards the western wall where the windows facing the city's commercial district filtered in the shadowed light.

There, King Arathron stood near the northernmost window, his molten gaze transfixed on the charm outside the castle. Around him, phantom lepidopterans shaded rose with flecks of gold fluttered free, fading and emerging into real-space like an ill-spun illusionary spell.

Yet this was far from something false in nature.

It took but a second for the dragonoid to understand the significance of what was taking place before him, his stoic countenance crumbling into something shocked and awestruck.

However ingrained etiquette held true, and Sebas restrained himself until reaching the appropriate position to begin greetings and relay requests.

"Morning, Your Majesty." He began, an easy but appropriate bow conveying his respects despite his king's lack of turn. "I do hope this day finds you well."

"Quite so, Sebas." Was the king's terse reply, though the butler sensed there was something unfamiliar about the song of his tone. Yet still he dared not query it, lest his curiosity be mistaken for disrespect.

Retaking his posture, Sebas settled the folders he had brought with him upon the king's desk while his eyes remained glued on the elegantly clothed ruler's frame. The fae-flies still danced around him, emerging and fading all the while mirroring and seducing emotions with each flutter of their aetheric wings.

This was the royal bloodline if he had ever seen one. And how fortuitous of it to awaken on the same day of their arrival in this new world.

'It appears I had been right in my suspicion.' He thought, no longer unsettled. 'His majesty's bloodline was tampering with my emotions.'

Through his Ki-infused sight, he saw that each burst of lepidopterans sent a wave of exhilaration, anticipation and reluctance in a unique blend of Mana and Yggdric Force as per the Liaqen bloodline.

…as per Fyr'Luë!

Though there was little purchase on his emotions this time around. The false calm awarded by [Zen Fortitude] through his utilisation of his internal Ki— albeit it was barely a comprehensive amount— thwarted away any external mental and emotional attacks, granting him much needed normalcy.

Or at least something close to it.

"You are staring, Sebas," King Arathron said, finally turning from the window and looking straight at the dragonoid with eyes of molten gold. His face was tranquil, a clear contrast to the emotions his bloodline was too eager on betraying. Though despite all that, a heartening ease fell upon the dragonoid's heart. "Do share with me what could have invoked within you such intrigue."

It was truly interesting the way the elves formed common speech with their lyrical larynges.

Calmer now, the butler gave an apologetic bow, "Your pardon, Majesty. I was merely enthralled by your awakened Fyr'Luë." He admitted quite freely, watching as his liege graced over to his chair and languished upon it— albeit not with uncouthness. "It is quite…beautiful."

"For a lack of a better word, no?" The king beheld his eyes with a stare that promised outrage should he disagree with his words.

"Of course, my king." Sebas agreed with a quick bow. "Yet I find myself unfamiliar with its authority. I do believe it does stray far from the previous manifestations."

A look came by the king's face, the pass of it painting it into something forlorn. "Yes, I'm…unlike my predecessors in that regard." His words were low, a pale hand lifted up near his face in an attempt to do…something, Sebas felt.

He dared not interrupt his liege, feeling he was working over his emotions and thus needed the silence somewhat.

The Fyr'Luë began to recede after a short pass.

"Fortunately, its different nature isn't something of great mystery." He said, looking at the dragonoid, then he frowned, "Do not stand on ceremony, Sebas. Sit."

The butler did so, "Thank you, your Majesty."

"Man, you are way too frivolous with your gratitude." The elven monarch muttered under his breath, the strange tongue almost ringing familiar to the butler's ears.

Yet he paid it little heed and instead focused on his liege's prior statement. "No great mystery? Is such a thing common within Your Majesty's bloodline? Is it a mutation?"

The king shook his head, his snow-pale hair dancing with the motion. "It's a foolishness directed by a lesser creature in a state of aggravated fancy." He scoffed, half paying attention. "I will not provide you with a direct answer, I'm afraid. This matter is not something I'm keen on sharing."

King Arathron reached for the folder, immediately disregarding all the other documents save for the unnamed report.

The butler's lips did not quite pull into a frown, but it was a close thing. His liege was being rather dismissive of his grand achievement; an awakening of one's bloodline was something to be celebrated.

'Why must you be this terse…' he lamented. Perhaps he should inform the lady queen about this matter. She might be abl—

"I'm aware of your thoughts, Sebas." The king's voice cut through his musings, "This need not be a grand affair. More so on this day of significant development." He spoke without his eyes swaying from the report in his hand, "Do not let something so personal shadow it in any manner."

"Pardon the bluntness, Your Majesty. But I feel that you are significantly downgrading the importance of this achievement."

The king scoffed, eyes still roaming the black file, "If you think summoning ghost butterflies is something grand then I worry about your judgement skills, butler."

Sebas wanted to say that was not all the Fyr'Luëwas capable of, he knew that was not all it was capable of… But it would be useless. His liege would not barge on this, he knew.

"Understood, my king." He acquiesced, tone formal and inflectionless.

"Good," came the flat exclamation, though it took no genius to hear the annoyance that simmered beneath it. "I will have you summarise the findings from the surveillance department for me. What have they found of these lands west of the continent."

Understanding the dismissal of pleasantries, the dragonoid's body subconsciously went into a state of duty. Within his periphery, he saw his liege spared him no regard.

Sebas was undaunted by this, of course.

"Ah, yes. It was much and more lady Nigredo's department have been able to find." He retrieved back the reports and began to summarise them. "First, we seem to be sandwiched between a great forest west of Elgroth and an imperial nation east of our great city. Though the closeness of their proximities is something else entirely."

The king hummed, "Were they able to discover the names of these grand locations?"

"Not quite, my king. Though they were able to determine the extent of their governance." His liege gestured for him to continue, still reading the report in his arms. "We seem to be in lands unclaimed. What used to be fiefdoms west of our imperial neighbour seemed to have been abandoned, perhaps from a recently fought war, they are still unsure on that it seems…"

"It is a result of a succession war." King Arathron provided, a small frown on his face. "A still ongoing one by the looks of it."

The butler eyed the black file in his liege's hands. He was not ignorant of the unsavoury aspects of rulership.

"Don't waste your worry, Sebas. These were evil men we extracted this information from. Ruthless and sadistic men who pillaged and raped and peddled flesh without remorse. I'm sure their victims would sleep well knowing what befell them."

The dragonoid didn't pry for the specifics of their fates, he merely returned back to his recount. "Of course, Your Majesty." He flipped over a page, eyes scanning over the information with hastened perception, "As for nearby settlements, there seems to be a couple of large villages north and south of Elgroth with a few small ones scattered among them. Unfortunately, it appears most of the villages had been recently destroyed and some hastily abandoned. Most of which are from the south."

"Anything specific about these attacks?"

"Aye, from further scrying, the department has concluded that the attacks were most definitely undead in nature." Sebas supplied.

This time, the king looked at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"That's quite curious," his liege muttered softly. "I suppose no amount of carefulness can stop ripples from forming." He turned his attention back to the file in his arms before increasing the volume of his voice. "Tell me of the findings from E-Rantel—the thrice-fortress city to the south of the map. More specifically, the density of its Negative Energy."

The dragonoid diligently leafed through the pages until he came upon the city in question. As with all other locations chronicled, it bore no name. "My liege, there is nothing particularly remarkable about the Negative Energy of this city when measured against the indigenous settlements we have encountered thus far. However, when contrasted with Elgroth, the burial grounds of the natives seem veritable hotspots of Death Miasma"

"I'm sure the problem lies with the churches here," his liege chuckled, seemingly amused by his own words. Sebas, however, found no humor in them. To allow burial grounds to fester with Death Miasma was tantamount to knowingly facilitating a disaster.

"Worry not, I shall dispatch some of our fanatics to purify their grounds once we establish contact. It should not take long."

Finally, the king set the black report aside, having completed his reading. He let a weary sigh escape his lips before reaching into the void realm of his [Riftspace] and retrieving a small notepad.

"You really shouldn't have wasted all that time making edgy curb-stomp plans based on canon relevant events." His liege spoke to himself, once again using that enigmatic tongue. As before, the butler found himself unable to comprehend the words, as though caught in a repetitive prophecy.

A flicker of subjugated Mana brushed against the dragonoid's senses as an empty flame was cast to obliterate the tiny book. "[Focused Magic: Inanis Ustus]!"

Sebas observed the spectacle with some level of fascination, watching as the empty flames turned the book into never-things. Unsuccessfully re-mending reality.

"Quite the extreme spell for something so mundane, no?" He asked.

His liege's expression morphed into something disgusted…and regretful as he watched the pad vanish from written reality. "Fate made a fool of me. I will not keep on me a reminder of its insult."

Sebas glanced at the half vanished book and found that he did not really care about its contents. "If you don't mind me asking, my king. Is something set to happen in this…E-Rantel place."

The elven monarch shrugged, the gold of his red brocade jacket vest gleaming in the natural light from the window, an incongruous contrast to his graceless action. "Perhaps in another life," he sighed once more. "I was hoping to find a necromancer by the name of Khajiit. He is one of the twelve apostles within the Order of Zurrernon. I had hoped this order would have a certain connection with a particular individual."

"And the Negative Energy?"

King Arathorn steepled his fingers, an unsettling expression twisting his features into something devilish. "Let's just say dear Khajiit isn't the most brightest of necromancers."

——————

Information [Magics]

1. Yggdric Force: The metaphysical energy utilised by WCI. I.E the uniqueness of world items.

2. Ninpō: Ninja magic. Not jutsu, Magic.

3. Ku: Void Energy uitilised by ninja to perform forhidden jutsu and rituals.

4. Hiden: Forbidden jutsu.

5. Ki: A spiritual energy utilised by Monks and other some such spiritual practitioners.

6. Mana: An arcanic energy utilised by mage to cast spells.

7. Fyr'Luë: Bloodline of the Liaqen lineage. Basically World Item fuckery via hacking. I'm not giving any thing away. It's elven in name (I.E made up).

8. [Zen Fortitude]: Mental Defence technique utilised by spiritual practitioners of a certain level.

9. [Riftspace]: An inventory space.

10. [Focused Magic: Void Ember]: A 10th tier spell that forces whatever it is cast upon into an unknown void realm in a mimicry of burning.