Chapter 33.1: Relapse assortment

When I wake up in the carriage, I notice the sun shining through the window. Ragnorr, who is sitting on the other side, is probably arranging those pieces of paper to be sent when the bet ends. He won't notice if I move slowly, will he? I turn to the corner and groom myself, knowing that a blanket on top of me will be a perfect disguise for the sudden movement.

"Are you awake, Mikhail? We're about to return to Saudade, so keep an eye on your appearance." Ragnorr sighs as he picks up those papers; it appears that he hasn't taken a break in a long time.

"When did you notice?" I return the blanket to Ragnorr, kneading it into a square.

"Your troubled expression, as if you were averting your gaze." Ragnorr opens his sub-space, easily bringing it inside and closing it.

Fixing my appearance with 'illusio' I brush my hair to cover the bed hair from it to form the natural curl before straightening it to keep it manageable so that I can cut it whenever I feel it will affect my work efficiency. I don't need to cut them now because the current shoulder length is quite simple.

"Make way for the Saudade sovereign." The sound of centaurs echoing outside means we've arrived at the market's outskirts. Outside, I see a bemused sight through the veiled window.

The market outside had been quiet since the day the capital announced its renovation, but it had now become crowded. Pledging nobles from far and wide return to restore their once-discarded loyalty.

"I wonder whether the new king will be so merciful," one says quietly.

"I have heard of their miracle-working of reviving Saudade's agriculture." another adds,

"I also heard of how he had captured the great northern lord's heart and brought him to loyal fully, which the previous founder could not." The whispering will continue until my carriage passes completely through.

They returned with extravagant clothes and rumored luxuries to swear alliance, not to the demon king, but to an angel who betrays its kind. What an unusual situation.

"Did something happen while I was sleeping?" I ask, surprised, while Ragnorr continues to gaze out the window. Even with the advantage of passing through a sea of nobles, the line appears to be endless.

"I'm not aware of anything. You appear to have chosen quite a specimen for your replacement." Ragnorr closes the window to maintain silence as the carriage passes by.

The carriage hasn't moved in an hour, and this is still the farthest corner away from the palace to be seen. As we approach the finished renovated section of the capital, the scenery changes slightly. Because bricks and limestone are still scarce, those hay houses have been replaced only with stone structures.

Ragnorr stands up impatiently as if something at the palace cannot wait. "Well, I have to grab you and rush into the palace at this point," he says. Are you-" comfortable with that? At this point, I'm just accepting my fate as a small child. "Yes," I say, sighing.

"All right, no hesitation." Ragnorr smiles as the heavings leave his mind.

He grabbed my stomach and cast 'Collocatione,' teleporting us back to the front of the palace. Everyone seemed to rush around before we arrived, with the butler noticing us from somewhere else. A line of nobles continues behind us, but they come to a halt at the end of the dirt path.

"Your Majesty has returned. Everyone comes to comfort them. It must be a trying time." The butler approaches us and extends his hand for me to land on.

“No.” Ragnorr grunts. He has become increasingly difficult since I awoke. I must have missed something because I can't recall what made him so angry.

"Where is the northern lord? I need to speak with him urgently." Ragnorr starts yelling at the butler...while I stare around, perplexed by this unexpected combust.

"Lord Ragnorr, he is at the office. Please lower their majesty first." The butler replied with his hand covering his face as if he expected Ragnorr to hit him.

"Climb close to me, Mikhail," Ragnorr says quietly.

I only catch the garden from behind as he rushes through it. Andromalius appears to have taken the liberty of changing those wind whispers to cyclaines. Even after they've died, those flowers smell intensely sweeter than sugar, and their vibrant pink is quite an eyesore to me. However, if it is something he enjoys, I will allow such flowers in the garden.

Throwing down the office door...how many times do I have to crave those runes... curse my privacy, perhaps?

"Oh, your Majesty, you're back." Andromalius gets out of his chair. He was intimidating in white, from head to toe. Why does he look this way, and where has the tough-looking 72nd demon earl of Ars Goetia gone? He looks more like a king now, with his cloak made of a gray demonic bear and a white official suit... Perhaps I should try-

"Catch, northern lord," Ragnorr yells as he hurls me up to the table.

“Wha-”

Andromalius stumbled forward to catch me. As anyone can imagine, that would not go well. I fall face first on the floor, not having enough time to slowly spread my wing the fiction, while Andromalius bends downward as if I'm about to fall near the table. As a result, I have a minor headache.

Ragnorr outside, sealing the door shut with anti-eavesdropping spells while I cast 'mitis tenebrae,' I am more comfortable using dark spells in Saudade due to the abundance of dark mana...

However, polluting this place with light mana makes me feel very guilty if anyone is affiliated with it.

"Why are you tossing me around like a rag doll, Ragnorr?" I turn to dust myself off the floor. Andromalius flips the switch on the golden box, transforming the simple desk into a long one surrounded by many chairs; this is the first time I've seen it done manually rather than through telekinesis or sub-space manipulation.

"Are you all right, Mikhail? Don't be so rough on them, child of Abaddon." Andromalius scolds while making tea; the aroma is cinnamon, so I'm guessing a black tea brew.

"Well, your little angel just cast an apocalypse spell that scorched an immortal to half-death and then slowly froze the same immortal to death." Ragnorr returns with a stack of papers. It was supposed to be a document of my battle, but it was scribbled with his overlapping descriptions of each spell that I cast.

"Wait, what were you saying?" Andromalius grasps as he drops the entire pot of hot water. The broken pot splatters the cabinet as he tries not to faint just from Ragnorr's statement; I didn't think he'd react so drastically. To be honest, I'm going to correct Ragnorr on how many spells like that I'd alternate between, but their flustered reaction meant those shouldn't be told at all.

"Please take a seat. He was so eager to share it with someone that he was rough on me, sir Anromalius." I motion Andromalius to the chair across from Ragnorr. Ragnorr notices my advancement and continues his retelling.

I stand silently to the sound of chattering while brewing another pot of hot water. I look down at the half-crushed bowl of herbs so Andromalius did try to make masala chai, the smell of black tea surrounding the early winter sky. It's a simple mix of cinnamon, ginger, and star anise.

After combining the black tea with the crushed spices and adding some nutmeg milk, all that remains is to strand them in three cups and serve. It would be a shame if these hot drinks were accompanied by some sweet treats, but going out right now isn't an option with those two concerns unresolved, so I'd have to make some biscuits from mana. They won't taste like anything other than plain wheat.

"I've returned with some treats." Bring the tray of tea and biscuits, and I give each of them a portion of two biscuits and a cup of tea. They're still engrossed in my little story, so let me try to break into the conversation.

"At the same time that those angelic eyes were being scorched to ashes, the corpse was frozen solid. Then there was... what was that black thing, Mikhail?" Ragnorr's unexpected question caught me off-guard. True, he was on the audience's side, far from the action, but the fact that he couldn't deduce such a simple point disappoints me.

"I wrapped Kushiel's soul in my mana string and swallowed the "black thing" that escaped from his body." I take a sip of tea as I respond. Ragnorr continues his story, while Andromalius appears to be horrified by something and spills his chai.

"And they ate an archangel's soul!...  Wait a minute, an archangel soul." Ragnorr comes to a halt as he realizes what is going on. Toying with one isn't common, but it's also not rare, so why are you acting as if I'm saying something monstrous?

"Wait a minute, I'm going to get sick. Oh, God! Please excuse me for a moment, Mi-." Andromalius rushes out, his mouth covered.

"I think I'll go out for a while as well..." Ragnorr arrives soon after.

Well, these treats aren't going to enjoy themselves, so I'll just sit here and wait. Knowing them for this long, I know they'll dismiss this fact a moment later. For the time being, I'll have to enjoy this unique sense of common sense.

The end

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Bleed the sunder through of time

Oh those words were never spoken

Cry the howling across all space

By which seeds were never bloomed