An unwelcome visitor

Tap. Tap….Tap…...Tap.

Tap....Tap.....Tap.

Verrater removed his long head from the sandstone once he could no longer hear the sound of footsteps. Lingering for several moments, he listened for dying taps, or the renewed sound of someone sneaking up the stairs before becoming convinced that the Bureau's dogs were gone. He sauntered back to his ruined desk and looked around, clicking his tongue.

Picking up glass shards from his palm while throwing them to the ground, he kicked the shards into a corner and left them.

Verrater muttered something in a displeased tone. Reaching under his desk, he began pulling out documents from his under table drawer. A rolled-up map came out, then a stack of old documents thumped onto the table. Parting the clutter and pausing once to look up and around,, Verrater pressed his finger into the base of the drawer and muttered in a hushed voice.

"…. Kontraak."

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then, slowly, the brown wooden surface of the drawer began to split into two layers. A small circle surfaced slowly, shiny and sleek obsidian. Verrater picked the circular object up and flipped it open, revealing a small ornament made of three revolving hands and twelve markings. It was a strange thing that he didn't really understand how to use, but that didn't matter. 

The fact that 'he' had given it to him was enough for him to make this his family heirloom and pass it down for generations to come.

Verratter squinted to see the smallest hand more clearly. It was past the halfway mark and crawling to the eight marking. Just as it had been yesterday, and the day before. The week before it was at seven. 

This clock had been the only thing on Verrater's mind these days. Hiding it. Thinking about it. Waiting on it. Even holding it in his hand made him feel an uncontrollable urge to look around or put it out of sight. Even though he knew that even if it was to be found, any person would just think it to be a strange pocket-watch with three hands instead of two. ' 

When the blood-hand strikes twelve, I promise that Agravoss will be yours.' The voice of a memory whispered in his ear, sealed sacred by the law of contract. The memory made Verrater jump and become defensive. He swiveled around, shooting furtive gazes while looking for any watchers. There were none.

Verrater swiftly pocketed the watch and sat on his table as if waiting for his servants. He fell into deep thought.

' I took great precautions in my answers to make them as clear yet as unrevealing as possible. But before I could get them perfected, they had already come.' Verrater unconsciously looked towards the entryway into his personal hall. His eyes narrowed as he recalled the last question in the inquisition. But then he smirked. An expression of glee danced all over his face. ' But in the end, I got through it somehow. The Eye Of The High Lords might see lies, but I suppose it cannot tell truths from half-truths.' 

What was troubling however, was that last question. Verrater frowned as he remembered it.

' Re-pledge my vow? Do those Inglisa runts even have the authority to do that? Not only that, they said that they had gotten to the Treasurer to agree first? That stickler for the rules of a grunt?' 

A terrifying thought entered Verrater's mind, making him shudder. ' Have they figured us out?' He shook his head. Verrater hopped off his table and began to pace with slow, ponderous footsteps, thinking hard.

' It is true that they have already caught on to something. But as long as ' he' isn't exposed, we should be fine. Could the Treasurer have known something and then tipped the bureau off about it?'

' Or was it the bandits? This bureau…..we had initially thought that they would be easy to handle. The old commissioner died the very day we set our plans in motion. The new commissioner is young, and inexperienced.' 

' But have we misjudged him?'

Then, Verrater shook his head, dismissing the thought with a conceited smile.' Either way, it is too late for him to do anything. The fact that he had allowed such a question to be put into the inquisition only speaks further of his ineptitude. ' 

' Anyone would 'fly into a rage' when the validity of their blood oath was questioned. If he didn't think that this could be used against him, then he is wrong. I've long moved beyond that for 'him'!' 

Verrater turned and looked at the blue sky through the windowless long rectangles.' Our preparations to harness the Roots are nearly complete. The coming war has stopped the selection of a new Sage and there is no one more suited than ' he' to take that throne. Soon. Very soon. We will be unstoppable.' Verrater could feel his heart palpitating, increasing in tempo and intensity. 

' Ambitions take courage, don't they, Milord?' He asked. ' Freedom takes determination. I know my actions are only a drop in your almighty plans.' 

' But I will be the first drop to fall, bringing with me your coming storm.'

On a chilly, wide stone-paved street, two demonic figures huddled closely on the sidewalk, talking hushed voices. Their cloaks, one black and plain and one blue with fine silver highlights, rustled from the playful pokes of the surrounding wind. The town was largely silent still. 

The smaller of the two figures, a white haired demon with green eyes, talked quickly in an agitated manner while the tall lady he talked stood silently, listening and watching without a drop of expression other than mild disinterest.

Isadora pondered her apprentice's question for a moment before replying. " You told me that you did as I told you to. If that were so then you should have been able to find the answer by yourself. And right now, I'm more concerned about what we should do from here on out. " 

" Though you look like you have no idea what I'm talking about." She gazed down at him.

Rumius wasn't taken aback even for a moment at her response. But it made him bite down on his lips, annoyed himself.

' I tried! There was nothing!'

Rumius was silent for a moment as he restrained the small urge retort. " Master, I won't be able to help you if you don't let me know what you're going to do." He pointed out in a pacifying tone.

" I've told you that your part would come. But in the meantime, I think I will move alone again." Turning on her heels, she instructed curtly:

"Just return to the inn and wait for me. "

Isadora's boots clacked once onto the pavement and then stopped as Rumius's hand shot out and held a handful of her cloak. She froze and glared back at him.

Rumius could tell that he was being a burden again. Master had already grasped clearly something that he hadn't. ' It was something simple probably.' He thought, wanting to laugh at himself.

Simple enough that she didn't feel the need to explain it to him. Understanding this made Rumius feel as if he had been stabbed, but he still gritted his teeth and hid it under a mask of forced stubbornness.

"Could you at least tell me why The Eye didn't work? For all I know right now, the Administrator could have been lying or telling the truth the whole time. " 

" Master, I won't understand anything or improve like you want me to if you just leave me hanging like this. Me growing stronger also has benefits for you right?" He reasoned.

When she didn't reply, but only looked at him with wintry eyes, it felt as if she had stabbed him again and shoved the knife deeper in.

" Can I at least get a hint?" He pleaded.

With a sway of her hand, Isadora knocked off Rumius's hold on her cloak. He recoiled, as if bitten.

Isadora let out a irritated sigh: " Fine. It's as good a time for a quick lesson as any."

Hearing her words, Rumius's heart couldn't help but bloom.

" But you're asking the wrong question. You should be asking, 'how does The Eye work?'."

Isadora signed again. She put a hand to her temple and began rubbing it. With her eyes closed, she asked casually. " I trust that you have read until ' Visualisation'? It's an important part to understand if you want to understand spells or create one."

 " I've almost finished the book." Rumius said eagerly. He remembered reading this concept of ' Visualisation' somewhere in the middle of the thick grimoire. He even tried it out a little b his early attempts had all ended in failure.

" Then you should be able to tell me its three tenets." Isadora probed.

" Incantation, moulding, embedding." Rumius answered immediately. " Incantation involves creating the chant. Moulding involves distilling out the shape. Embedding is to absorb the new spell into yourself and assign it a compatible word in Elder tongue. Each level is multi stepped, but the results show themselves in the spell in different ways."

" Okay, so then now, you can work backwards. You saw waves coming from the Eye Of The High Lords, I presume?" 

Rumius nodded vigorously. " Yes master. But I don't know what these waves are." Rumius admitted, diving straight into the problem. Isadora's eyebrows furrowed menacingly, making Rumius wither a little, fearing that she might lash out. 

" You don't know? Isn't that the most obvious from the-" 

Isadora paused abruptly and a strange expression began forming on her face. At a point, Rumius could almost describe it as apologetic. 

Without explanation, Isadora dug her hand into her cloak. There was a sound of rustling before the little pyramid was once again taken out. " Tell a lie. Anything at all." She instructed mischievously.

Rumius fibbed the first, peculiar lie that came to mind. " I…erm…ate all the cheese in our hut before we left." 

....

A long silence hung in the air, as slowly, Master, turned and fixed him with a deathly glare. 

" It's a lie! I lied! I lied! It's not true!" Rumius hurriedly defended himself with wide eyes. " This-this must be malfunctioning! I mean, you said a lie during the inquisition too! We never went to see the treasurer yet, but the triangle still didn't ring!" 

Seeing Rumius's flustered defence made Isadora chuckle a little. With her characteristic smirk, she revealed:" The Eye isn't broken. I've just muted it."

" Sensing the cast of a spell requires vision into the mana world. But because you only activated your Mana Vision later, that you failed to see me casting the spell. Without knowing that, it would indeed be difficult to infer that the resonance between waves is the trigger for the bell to sound. This is my oversight, I apologise." 

To prove her point, Isadora brought up the pyramid and gave it a shake. Rumius' eyes widened twice over when no sound met his ears and as he registered his master's apology. Deciding not to go down the route of time wasting and awkward conversation by replying to her apology, Rumius chose to continue asking questions. 

" B-But it was still ringing when you placed it on the table! When did you…?" 

He paused immediately. The look on his master's face told him that his one hint was over. The remainder of the job was his to do.

" If you want to know, then maybe starting with finishing the whole book that I've given you. There are a few important tricks that you'll need to learn in the last chapter." She said sternly. 

Rumius nodded, and said hurriedly: " Alright."

" I'll return to the inn now. Master, is there anything you need me to pick up along the way?"

Hearing him, Isadora's lips curved. " Oh? Feeling awfully confident now, aren't we? Just remember that your body is actually shorter than your illusion. If you reach up to try to grab, say a fruit, it'll look as if you're trying to use your hips to pick it up."

" Just head back to the inn and wait for me. And don't cause any trouble." She warned.

Rumius nodded quickly and headed off.

He walked down the long street as if strolling and turned at the intersection by memory. Coming back from where they had come. It had been two hours since he'd awoken and if he had to quantify; it was about 7 am in human time. Rumius thought about how the demons didn't seem to have any tangible concept of time other than the sun, and how Master was the same hopeless case.

The rapidly brightening sky was a curtain being opened to welcome performers. Rumius walked by a long line of stalls that were being set up and eventually turned into a building and closed the door. 

He stood by the door for a moment, both to catch his breath and to listen to the calming sound of flickering candle fire lighting the area before continuing to walk past the snoring front desk and up the stairs. As he turned into the corridor on the third floor where their room was, he stopped. 

Outside their door was unexpected visitor. A tall, imposing demon with long horns protruding from his head, splitting his waist length hair. He wore a blank expression as he stared at their door from a tiny distance of inches away from the wood.