Tenth author's journal 2: Mikhail

29_Mournful camaraderie

Chapter 29: Day before sacrifice

"The deed has been done, your faithful servant Ash," expresses the dark will o wisp outside the afternoon window speak the voice of the royal messenger. It appears that he had other things to do before returning, as it converses before disappearing. For the time being, I have no use for him, so a short vacation would be preferable.

"Which spell, Mikhail, has flown into your office window?" Ragnorr enters groaning, having grown too accustomed to the palace, and orders his servants to do the same as mine. When it comes to cleaning, they are far more professional than my servants.

" 'Numtius,' it was from the royal messenger. The nature of his mana darkens it." I explain as the second day's dusk falls, the scenery is so slightly different from the first. A gust of autumn air carrying the scent of harvest, the vacant moon in the sky only weak light replaces it. It's far too quiet this time of year.

"Another unusual pheromone, I wish time would stand still so I could record it. But we'll be gone in less than three sun-moon cycles." Ragnorr calculated anxiously, for a day of travel and the meeting on the seventh day. The "sacrifice" will take place only briefly as they are served in front of the mortal and beast eyes.

"That fact bothers you a lot. Are you trying to say anything, Ragnorr?" I inquire about his emotions; after all, he won't have any problems other than accompanying me, will he?

"There were records of those when the world table might not return. The goat, of course, will not, but the guide is somewhat flexible depending on what happens there." Ragnorr mentions the goat's previous incarnation and its shepherd.

A total of five meetings, minus the overall banquet of blood in the first since the event of the sealing occurred as the reason for this table's existence, other are random select survivors as the shepherd of lust and the shepherd of envy was spared, the shepherd of pride died instantly, and the shepherd of wrath vanished not long after the meeting.

"So you're afraid of death, is what you're implying," I say this tiredly. I've never shown anyone my fighting style, and even in practice, I always use it so gently against the opposing. I believe that such things can be resorted to willingly without actual violence, but those who harbor only hatred will not have mercy on me.

"Who wouldn't? Mikhail, are you so sure that they won't kill you, or are you just suicidal in some way?" Ragnorr's concern is understandable. I can't ask for a spar right now because this place won't be able to sustain even my normal spells when I cast them seriously, let alone those I'll cast on Kushiel.

"I'm not going to die.  You will not, either. How about we place a wager?" Because greed will sway the worries, I declare a prediction competition.

"What kind of wager are you talking about, Mikhail? You know how little power I hold over." Ragnorr says this because there isn't much of him to take advantage of. While he was only ruling over a fragment of a monument, his research was extremely valuable. Most of them are false simply because they are based on incorrect information, but they are well-structured enough to have practical applications.

"No, it won't cost you much," I reassure him, knowing that for this little bluff to work, I should be a little mysterious.

"I'm not going to agree until I hear about your condition and prizes. I am not that kind of scholar, do you understand?" Ragnorr brought up his background again as if he wasn't trustworthy enough to be a scholar himself, which led me to wonder why scholars are such a taboo on the demon side.

"All right, have it your way. If we return with our lives, you will share those magical theories you are experimenting on; otherwise, my kingdom will become yours." I declare, hoping this will stick in his mind.

"With such high stakes, you're this sure of yourself? Then I accept," Ragnorr says cheerfully.

When I heard a knock on the door, I assumed that everyone was busy with their jobs. Isn't it Andromalius? The knock becomes increasingly loud as I am forced to open it...just before it is dropkicked to the ground.

"I see you're mingling with others. You move on so quickly from the last time we parted that I almost cry." Kryos rushes in, how annoying, the door is heavily modified with runes with numerous features to render it defenseless against his kicks. The first sentence embodies his carefree and boundless personality.

"Stop making derogatory accusations, Kryos. Those jokes of yours will tarnish one's reputation one day." I exhale a sigh. He'll ignore it after he's gone. Concerning Ragnorr... I believe he has a beef with Kryos.

"Kryos Asmodeus, long time no see," Ragnorr says dismissively. His gaze is drawn to Kryos, who is looking back fiercely.

"How long has it been since you last met at the descendant banquet, Ragnorr Abaddon?  You're still babbling, having heard how you tried to scare my equal like that." He comes over like a tug of war and takes possession of me, which irritated Ragnorr greatly.

"You're as delusory as ever, Kryos. Mikhail is far superior to anything you could ever hope to be. It's up to you to tarnish this kingdom's reputation with that mediocre performance by a sovereign." As he says this, he pulls my right arm back. It wouldn't hurt, so I'll extend the competition a little longer. As long as it relieves the tenseness of the world's table day.

"I see you've grown more lively over time, Ragnorr.  It is preferable to distract yourself from your worries." Inadvertently, I speak my mind aloud. Ragnorr squints slightly when he hears that, but Kryos has a strange expression on his face.

"Have I missed something?" Kryos inquires; he hasn't heard our conversation, but he would simply comment on giving up and letting Ragnorr become the goat regardless. Reading his letter gives me a glimpse of his selfishness, which I would prefer not to see, even though I am in denial of the fact that not everyone cares about others.

"Nothing that prefers your ever-needed opinion, Kryos," I say to end this tumultuous series of events. Let us unwind for a moment before I start practicing my rusty spells.

"How rude, even though I'm risking my life to get this valuable information for you." He throws three scroll pieces with a bored sigh. Each representative of the three sides is meticulously documented. Marvos Angus of the mortal, Tanwen of the beast, and finally Kushiel of the angel.

"These scrolls are the representative profiles. How did you manage to get your hands on this..." I inquired whether such documents were kept from me.

"I inspect them personally. I did invite you to join me, but it's always the same with getting ready to meet with your shepherd. That's why I said you broke my heart." Kryos mocks my insincerity, as I am his equal; I lack such concern because he has done so much for me. With empty promises, freedom isn't enough. "I apologize for my lack of attention." This would be my atonement for being cold-hearted; I need to be more aware of my surroundings. There's a lot more to life than fighting those rotten brothers and sisters of mine.

"All right, I accept your apologies. Because I can't use it against my equal." Kryos sneezes. Ragnorr poses a question in the middle of our conversation. "Are you married, Mikhail?"

"No." I and Kryos yell in a union. He, like me, is too unbound for such things and considers marriage in that sense disgusting whether it is political or love

"They just have a contract with me." Out of spite, Kryos says, "We are in a sort of shadow and sovereign. The roles were simply reversed." In the absence of the anti-eavesdropping spell, I continue explaining the rest of the story with flimsy information about the contract so that no one can take advantage of it.

"I see, so you're making these decisions on his behalf," Ragnorr says.

"It's their decision, and they're a better sovereign than I am in every way. And I have no desire to rule other than to carry on my father's legacy." Kryos refutes, despite the fact that if I hadn't appeared, he would have sworn to fall with the kingdom in that fight.

"And I only need a roof over my head, but it has been my own dedication to the role that has made this kingdom a more worthwhile place to live." In a brief, I make up a lie; perhaps a white lie. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to build a home where my subjects can live peacefully on their own.

"This camaraderie of yours is admirable. Kryos was extremely fortunate to fool you into making the decision." Jokes by Ragnorr

"Well, won't you tell me how the goat situation is going? You know how much I despise losing my freedom so quickly." Kryos urges whenever he loses patience with the stalling.

"Well, this time I'm just going to kill him for real." When I awaken from "rebirth," I have such a plan. I can't remember the memories Sariel implanted in my soul, so a fictitious reason would suffice.

"Can you do it, Mikhail?" Won't that alarm the others?" Ragnorr is concerned, and his concern is justified, as "he is the weakest link right now, so they won't notice much."

"That calculated mind of yours." Sighs Kryos.

"That cold heart of yours." Ragnorr is trembling from the chill of hearing.

The night comes to a complete halt. Standing here would be counterproductive and inconvenient, in my opinion.

"Well, it's been a while.  How about we unwind a little? I still have some ale." I just used some strong ale to get rid of Andromalius's poisonous leftover mana. They are perfectly drinkable, but their potency repels even the weakest demons.

"You sneaky little thing, I'm in." Kryos laughs and grabs a bottle.

"I'm in as well, but I'd rather eat meat than consume that." Ragnorr turned down the opportunity to make a sandwich and a cup of tea on the room cupboard.

We spend the night away as the day comes just early. Spending every worry as we say farewell to the past. How long shall make this ground of colleagues gather in such a manner? As the last drop of ale drunk, this camaraderie mournfully ends.

The end

Like calming before the storm

Brewing secretly as oath being sworn.

An overture prelude to the end.

Into a senseless death may it send.