A/N: As of the latest chapter, he has officially summoned his servant.
P.S: I owe you guys an extra chapter from last week. Other than that, as usual, 700.
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Waver awoke expecting the familiar thrum of the train he'd boarded the previous night, but soon realized that there had been no noise even then. It was strange, but considering the inherent nature of the Rail Zeppelin, perhaps not so strange at all.
That was to say, he wished that noise he'd grown accustomed to over a decade of travelling all over the world would still be there. Yet, if he started noting such things, there'd be no end. The train was larger on the inside than it was on the outside. Each guest room was soundproofed. The train had a room filled to the brim with nothing but pickled eyes in jars. The train was the personal collection of an ancient Dead Apostle with a penchant for Mystic Eyes.
He had so many questions, and no one to really answer them except himself.
The train conductor, Rodin, barely spoke even when needed, content to just stand there with his hat pulled down and his hands brought together. The only other member of the staff, Leandra, was so extreme in her behavior that you could barely make sense of her words.
It was exactly the sort of situation the Lord El-Melloi II expected of a place that exclusively invited magi, to hold an auction that sold Mystic Eyes. It was exactly the sort of situation he wanted to make sure his newest student stayed far far away from no matter how greatly the former would enjoy it.
So, when he woke, and heard no mention of him, Waver allowed himself to breathe. He threw himself off the suspiciously comfortable bed in his cabin, and by the time he was done washing up, Gray was already there waiting for him. She put Add on the bedside table, then helped Waver comb his long hair until it was straight, refined enough to suit a member of the Twelve Lords, even if Reines was the one to actually lead the El-Melloi Faction.
"Where's Caules?" He looked around their cabin.
It presented a sort of strange luxury, with two compartments joined together to make a full room laden with fine furniture and red curtains against the windows. Unlike his own apartment, even the carpet had nary a speck of dirt.
Gray paused a moment, then answered in that low, subdued tone of hers, "He said, he wanted to have a look around the train, sir."
"Hm. He was unusually excited about it."
"Kek!" Add screeched, his cage clambered. "As expected of a nerd! Ihihihi! At least it's better than this stupid girl who sat there till you woke up!"
Gray flushed from shame. She grabbed the cage and shook it roughly.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, my lad-…! AGYAAAA-"
It was a typical morning.
Soon, the announcement for breakfast came over the speakers. Waver prepared himself to face the rest of the guests, then finally stepped out. Gray fell in behind him. The moment he did, he came face-to-face with the young heir of the Animusphere.
Olga Marie Amsleit Animusphere.
A child, barely eleven. Anyone familiar with her family would recognize her to be one of them with one look considering how much of her father's pedigree she had. Her pale hair fell down to her waist, with a thin, lonely braid drifting to the side much like the way her father tied his. Her skin was also just as pale.
She wore her family colours, a black frock lined with gold at the seams that fell to her knees, and a mantle over her shoulders bearing the white Animusphere seal.
She fixed Waver with a withering stare before huffing and stomping off. Her attendant gave a slight apologetic bow before rushing off behind her young lady. Admittedly, it wasn't very intimidating when she barely even reached his shoulder.
Apparently, Olga Marie didn't hold much affinity for him.
"She seems to hate you, Professor." Gray whispered.
Waver lit his cigar. "I'd rather she hate me openly than plot like my peers."
In the Clock Tower, an open enemy was preferable over a scheming one. The former were simply straightforward people more often than not. A rarity within their society.
Gray hummed and nodded before going silent. She was prone to that.
So far, so good. The situation was under control even if he had no clues as to what he'd come here for. That relic of his King. There was still time to investigate after breakfast. The auction wouldn't be held for another day.
That sentiment jumped out the window into the snow outside the moment he stepped into the car designated as the dining hall.
Gray quickly averted her gaze, and Waver wanted to simply turn on his heel to run away as far as he could.
There, in that lavish car with golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling and lamps after every curtain, was a long table. Filled with all manner of fine dishes. Steaks. Roasted pork. Honeyed Fowl. Fine wines. Then toasts and eggs and sausages and bacon. That delicate scene escaped Waver's notice entirely.
In that same car, a bit to the side, sat a familiar youth. His dark hair peppered with streaks of white, and his dressing ostensibly unfitting for the sort of place he was in. A wool sweater over a simple shirt and gray trousers, like someone had walked out of bed and decided to join them.
No, that was definitely exactly what happened beyond any doubt.
He was sitting beside the representative of the Department of Policy and talking with her rather animatedly, with a smile so polite you'd forget that they were at complete odds with one another, on the brink of a fight to the death.
When he noticed Waver, Waver trembled.
"Henry…"
"Professor, how's it hanging? You miss me?"
"How are you even here?"
"There's this convenient thing called a phone. I called Gray, then I followed the leylines."
"…You were in England. We're in the Netherlands right now."
"Europe is pretty small, you know?"
Waver had no words to deny that. Henry had already shown the ability to travel incredible distances at speeds that left one questioning reality. Still, that wasn't even the main issue. The last they talked, his student was fighting a Dead Apostle. That was last night.
"What… about that Dead Apostle you were looking into?"
Henry responded with a mischievous smile.
"Then he wasn't merely jesting?" Hishiri Adashino was the one who actually answered the question. Her absurdly long hair dragged along the floor as she tilted her head, fixing her glasses. "Hm. It appears I have something interesting to report when I return. That was indeed a Dead Apostle of some renown. A rather ancient one. Yet somehow, I don't find myself very surprised by this news."
Of course. Of course he'd won.
She smiled gently. A sickening expression.
"We've grown more familiar with his abilities than we'd like."
Waver wanted to smack Henry.
Why was he being this reckless with the threat of a Sealing Designation looming overhead? Did he want that to happen? If so, was there some plan he wasn't willing to share?
With the rest of the class away on family business, Henry had no allies to rely upon either. Waver had always believed Flat to be the stupid one, not Henry. At this rate, that Sealing Designation was a certainty. The biggest issue was, Waver wasn't sure who'd actually be in danger anymore. The ones responsible, or the one who they'd hunt.
Giving him one last look, Hishiri turned back to Henry, "The fish they've served is rather delectable. They even have sake. Might I interest you in some?"
"Nah, I have an agenda here so alcohol is a no go."
"My, this has to be the first time an Englishman has refused alcohol. Color me intrigued."
"I'll make do with some tea."
Waver massaged his temple. Suddenly, his stomach pains were back. After a few moments of silence, the Lord El-Melloi II finally relented and took a seat beside Henry. Gray did the same, but not before cutting a steak and readying a plate for him.
He didn't know how to feel about that.
But, there were more pressing matters to attend to.
"Did Luviagelita not stop you?"
"She went back to London. To monitor the political climate, she said. But I'm pretty sure she just wants to annoy Inorai with the win… and the other lords. She's cool like that."
The Edelfelt Princess' confidence in Henry needed to be studied.
Waver grumbled impotently before turning to his breakfast. Ideally, Henry should never have been here. Now that he was, there was no sending him away. All he could do was try to mitigate the damages that'd begin sooner or later.
"…Henry, you have no intention of selling your eyes. Why even come?"
"It's not about that, it's the principle. I'll mess around for a bit and after…" His student grin told Waver of the insanity headed his way. "Well, I'm pretty sure everyone's gonna notice what I'm actually here for."
Soon, the rest of the guests began filtering into the dining car one after the other.
Yvette L. Lehrmann, another of his students. After a deafening squeal, she tried to jump at Henry the second she noticed him. He ducked. Her face met the wall. She got up and jumped at him again, leaning off his back like a koala.
Karabo Frampton. An aged Executor with a long beard bleached by age in the typical garb of one of the Church's operatives.
Olga Marie Animusphere. Her attendant Trisha Fellows, wearing a thick coat that concealed her body with a fur neck. Undeniably beautiful and as tall as Waver himself. She'd tied up her blonde hair in a strictly business-type bun, and her gaze seemed to be fixed on Henry as she lowered the thick glasses framing her face.
Finally, Caules Forvedge. Henry immediately called him a nerd, and the awkward youth laughed shyly, scratching the back of his head, unsure of what to do.
Waver's throat felt dry. He licked his cracked lips.
A disaster was brewing.
Hopefully, it wouldn't get in the way of his own purpose.
Unlike the rest of these people, Waver wasn't here by choice after all.
"Now that all the guests have gathered! Allow us to show you a bit of what we have in store for this year's sales!"
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Hope you enjoyed.
You can find 8 chapters ahead at patre0n.com/Bleap