"Your ritual…?" she repeated, perplexity and doubt in her voice.
"Von Varus, if I'm not mistaken, you're twelve years old."
A servant approached, delicately placing two cups of coffee in front of us.
She lifted the cup to her red lips and took a sip.
"Moreover, imperial law forbids any ritual before the age of twenty-one, the risk being far too great,"
she continued, in a learned tone that, combined with her elegant demeanor, painted a scene that to my eyes felt soft and delicate.
Sitting up slightly in my chair, and despite her hypnotic beauty, I replied:
"Young lady,is it not customary to refrain from questioning a client? Is that not a cornerstone of etiquette?"
I met her gaze, insistent and unyielding.
Such beautiful eyes…
So blue, azure like those of a dragon—or the ocean.
Those eyes shimmered as she took another small sip of coffee.
"Isn't it ill-advised to openly break imperial law and then boast about it?"
"Are you not on the lands of the Von Varus, your hosts?"
I took a sip of my own coffee. Bitter—I would have preferred tea.
My tone remained firm despite the persistent flush in my cheeks—a gentle blend of maturity and innocence.
Finally yielding with a sigh, Eleonor quickly scribbled a list on a small scrap of paper before handing it to a servant, whispering a few words as she did so.
She then gently dabbed her lips with a silk handkerchief.
"However, since this young lord is so insistent, I shall make an exception."
Before I could thank her, she warned me in a voice curiously heavier:
"Nevertheless, I must warn you, Frédéric."
The atmosphere shifted almost imperceptibly; the once-bright room seemed to dim, its glow slowly fading.
The intoxicating scent in the air was joined by a strange heaviness.
"Woe to the one who, in pursuit of glory, respect, and recognition…"
My heartbeat quickened as the sitting room fell into a silence laden with meaning.
All traces of her earlier elegance vanished, leaving only a faint, indescribable, and disquieting aura.
"Woe to the one who, in his complacency and pride…"
Eleonor's voice began to change, replaced by something deep, ancient—like the unveiling of ancient remnants.
My body froze, locked, trapped.
Light was almost gone, illuminated only by the moon shining through the windows.The moon…? Wasn't it daytime?
A crimson glow seeped into the room, carrying with it the scent of metal.
My mind clouded.
"Woe to the one who, behind nobility…"
Her eyes—once so beautiful—were now hollow, white, and luminescent voids.
S-she… this thing… was looking at me.
A gaze tinged with greed and intrigue.
"…seeks to claim all in a struggle, not against the world,"
Her voice nearly screamed, reverberating in my mind:
"b̬u̼ț ̲a̮g͍a͓i͔n̞s̝t̤ ̗h͚i̳m̩s͉e̻l̤f͇"
I heard faint laughter outside, footsteps all around me.
That same shadowed smile slowly took shape on Eleonor's face, before an echo—faint, distant—rang out:
"…Young master?"
Eleonor's sweet voice returned to normal, as if nothing had happened.
The room was once again elegant, my coffee steaming with an exotic aroma.
My hands gripped the armrests of my chair tightly, sweat dripping from my brow.
"W-what…"
"W-what was that?" I rasped, my voice hoarse, struggling to breathe.
My eyes scanned every detail—from the fibers of the couch to the moisture on Eleonor's lips.Yet nothing. Everything was normal.
I could hear my heartbeat pounding like flesh under a hammer.
Eleonor rose gently and pressed her palm against my forehead.
"The young master should rest," she advised with concern, a faint glimmer in her eyes.
"Y-yes… I've had trouble sleeping lately," I muttered in an unconvincing excuse.
Standing slowly, keeping a semblance of composure, I nodded to her.
"M-my lady, if you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to."
Better to leave than to linger any longer with this unsettling woman.
She nodded back.
"No need to worry, young lord—the aggregates will be delivered to your manor."
She murmured something again to her servant, watching me leave, a faint smile slowly curling her lips.
I staggered down the corridors of the alchemical chamber.
All these strange things had been happening to me since last night.
It didn't seem to be some monstrosity—if it were, I'd already be dead, perhaps along with the people of Vlorich.
It felt like visions, or hallucinations… but that seemed unlikely too. I'm no oracle…
"I haven't made a pact either…"
"So what the HELL is this?" I said, slamming my fist into a nearby wall, heart racing.
"It's so damn scary…"
Barely holding back tears, I could only step outside, donning a mask of confidence.
A noble must be beyond reproach before the common folk…
Words my father drilled into me endlessly.
That bastard.
A gust of wind hit me as I stepped out, slowly calming my heart.
The silver lining in my misfortune was that… whatever this thing was, it didn't seem to want me dead. Not yet, at least.
My guards, ever loyal, signaled before resuming their post at my side.
The central square seemed emptier than before.
I spotted a few men in the alleys, whispering—some bearing a black flag.Nothing unusual though; there had always been brigands and thugs in the streets.
Shaking my head, I resumed my walk home without incident.
Back at the manor, I made my way to my study on the second floor.
Nothing impressive—just a spacious thirty-square-meter office with a view of the inner courtyard to the south and the city to the west, furnished in neoclassical style and adorned with family tapestries.
I like humble things.
I slowly pulled a cord with a bell at the end, summoning the steward, Hemrich.
He knocked a few moments later.
"Young master," he greeted, bowing his head.
"Regarding the task I gave you," I said, settling into my tapirus-leather chair.
He slowly raised his head, regarding me cautiously.
"Nothing to report, young master. Everything is normal."
I frowned. Nothing unusual?
"And in the mirror, in the water room—nothing?"
He confirmed once again.
Strange… very strange.
Was the number visible only to me?
It wasn't tangible, yet I could still feel the chill it left in my fingers, and that acrid smell…
My hand went to my chin.
It seemed there was nothing I could do but wait.
My gaze drifted to the training yard through the window—knights and squires trained relentlessly, without pause.
I'll train with them… better than training with Father.