The "Boy"

"Out."

A shiver ran down Revan's back as he gazed up towards his seated general. The tone hadn't been asserted towards him, but he could nonetheless sense the hostility in it.

'...Looks like another graveyard shift...' he thought dismally, though his expression remained inert, hazel eyes trained forward as always.

"B-But milord, I—"

'Aaand, strike one. Oh dear, will he even get a grave at this point?'

"I said, out, Mr. Renwald."

"However, milord... M-Mr. Astrite, please help me!"

'Ooh, strike two, also, stop talking to me! Now I might not even give you a rock as a memorial if you drag me into this! Think about your legacy—do you really just want to be a plot of blank land to be used as fertilizer—imbecile!'

As always, even when the atmosphere in the dim office blackened to the point of an abyss, Revan continued to stare at the pillar, as if finding it interesting; he didn't want to be involved with this incompetent fool of an assistant, who'd been too eager to help, so much so that he pissed off Alexi.

The aforementioned incompetent, Renwald, shivered with terror before collapsing to his knees.

'...This fool.'

He bowed himself down, prostrating himself in a desperate attempt to save his life. Unfortunately, he just signed his death warrant with this master.

"P-Please, milord... I-I have a f-family, a wife and ch-child... please..."

'Strike three.' Inwardly, he sighed to himself, his unblinking, unfeeling gaze turning slightly regretful for a moment.

'Begging and mentioning family was the worst thing to do with Alexi... if only you left the room...'

"P-Plea—"

The pathetic whimpering was abruptly halted by the sudden sound of flesh being slashed like paper and the dull rolling of a head upon marble floors. The body collapsed like a ragdoll without its puppeteer, the red slowly spreading across the floor in a familiar tide.

'...then you would've gotten a dismissal with compensation at most, but you just had to push the matter. Another body, another graveyard shift... getting the blood from the carpet'll be a pain, crap...'

An annoyed sigh was emitted behind him, as both his master and the sword he carried had moved faster than his half-breed eyes could see. Promptly, the master handed his sword back to him, which he gave a quick clean with a rag before sheathing it.

'Seriously, am I only meant to stand here with this sword as a holder? So annoying...'

"Revan, clean it up."

"Of course, Master Alexi. Please pardon the smell, I'll send the maids—do you wish to move the documents to the second study?"

"I thought it was still being cleaned? How's the third one?"

"The smell of the dismemberment and feces still remains in the third, where you silenced Count Malrik just last Thursday—the beheading of Sir Alvid has cleaned up nicely, despite it only being three days ago, on Sunday."

Alexi sighed again at the information—so many lost, due to greed and incompetency, yet they still came. How annoying...

"These damned people... can't they allow a Duke to rest?"

"..."

'...I believe that's contrarian to your title though? I mean, madness aside, you're a Duke, what else do you expect? The nobility are all fools anyway, don't you know? Oh dear, to think my master is disassociating from reality—'

"I'm not though."

"..."

"I'm not "disassociating" as you put it."

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're referring to, Your Grace. Pardon me, but might I get to finishing your orders now, My Lord Duke?"

Alexi's brow twitched with his mouth at his slippery yet overly competent butler, who was running away after bad mouthing him in his head.

"...I swear, if it weren't for knowing you so long, I'd have ripped your head from your neck..."

"Apologies milord, but I rather enjoy where my head's at. Pardon me."

And so his butler walked away, his back straight and his gaze downright shameless in Alexi's eyes.

It was only when he left did he get up from leaning on his desk to properly sit down on his sofa, a trail of blood staining the carpet in the shape of his shoes. He plopped down on the couch, his expression daunted and tired of the way he was, of the way people were.

"...When will I find someone genuinely competent... at this point I might as well hang the assistant position altogether... but then that punk will be overworked even more than he is already... sh!t, why doesn't anything go my way?"

The tired and worn Duke laid vulnerable in his office, unaware of the prying silver eyes that stared at him from a neighboring rooftop, the gaze unwavering at the sight of the strained Duke.

A smirk worked its way across red lips, and a hearty chuckle escaped the figure.

"Sounds like it's time for my entrance."

To think the Duke would get exactly whom he wanted, unaware of the storm the boy would cause.