After the Imperial delegation had made their hasty, terrified retreat, an unusual silence descended upon the "Chamber of Stillness." It was punctuated only by the soft, muffled snores of Lyno, who had achieved a state of unconsciousness born of sheer emotional exhaustion.
His three followers stood in the small room, a bizarre tableau of power and delusion.
Valerius Zathra, the Sage.
Seraphina Vex, the Shadow.
And Princess Aurelia, the... Property? Hostage? Follower-in-training? Her new role was alarmingly undefined.
Aurelia was the first to break the silence. She had been left behind. When Dros had spoken of her "changed status," he had made it clear that attempting to take her with them would be seen as revoking the Master's "claim," a suicidal act of defiance. So she was here. In a dusty room. With an assassin who looked at her like a bug she was considering squashing, and a sage who looked at her like a fascinating new species of moss.
"So," the Princess began, her regal training kicking in to mask her confusion. "What... are the protocols?"
Valerius turned his gaze to her, stroking his beard. "An excellent question. It shows an admirable willingness to adapt. The first and most absolute protocol is this: The Master's serenity is paramount. It is the bedrock upon which our own continued existence is based."
Seraphina scoffed, a barely audible sound of contempt. She was leaning against the window frame, her arms crossed, her amethyst eyes fixed on the Princess. "The 'protocol' is to remain silent unless addressed, to make yourself useful, and to stay out of the way of those who truly serve him."
The barb, though veiled, was sharp enough to draw blood.
Aurelia's royal pride flared. "I am the heir to the Aethelian Empire. I am not some common servant."
"Here, your title is less than dust," Seraphina countered, her voice dangerously smooth. "The Master demonstrated that when he casually disposed of your carriage. Here, you are what the Master has decreed you to be. Nothing more."
"And what has he decreed me to be?" Aurelia challenged, her chin high.
Seraphina's lips curled into a cruel smile. "A pet."
"ENOUGH," Valerius's voice boomed, quiet but filled with an authority that made the dust motes vibrate. "This bickering is a dissonance. It disturbs the ambient harmony. It is an insult to the Master's sacred slumber."
Both women fell silent, chastened. The old sage was right. Their petty conflict could have cosmic consequences.
"You are both correct, and you are both mistaken," Valerius continued, adopting the tone of a lecturing professor. He pointed a long, bony finger at Seraphina.
"You, Shadow, are correct that past status is irrelevant here. You were the Shadow's Kiss, I was a Grand Sage. We cast those titles aside. She must do the same. However," he swiveled his finger towards Aurelia, "you are wrong in your assessment of her purpose. The Master does nothing without reason. He would not claim a 'pet.' The gesture of ownership was symbolic."
He began to pace the small room, his mind weaving a glorious tapestry of flawed logic.
"Consider the pieces. He first gained a Chronicler (myself), to interpret and record his works. Then he gained a Shield (the Shadow), to protect his vessel from physical threats. Both of us come from the fringes of society—the exiled, the underworld. We represent power outside the established order."
He stopped and faced them, his eyes alight with revelation.
"The Princess is the third piece of the triumvirate. She is not an individual; she is a symbol. She represents the established order, the mundane world of politics and dynasties. By 'claiming' her, the Master has not acquired a servant. He has acquired a bridge. A conduit through which his influence can flow, should he ever choose, into the world of mortals and their petty empires!"
Aurelia stared. So she wasn't a pet. She was... a divine ambassador? A living extension of his will into the political realm? It was a far more dignified, if equally terrifying, role.
Seraphina still looked unconvinced, her jealousy simmering. "A bridge can be useful," she conceded coolly. "But it is still just a tool. It is I who guards his person."
"Precisely!" Valerius agreed. "Each of us has a role, dictated by the Master's unspoken needs. My role is that of the Mind—to interpret. Your role, Shadow, is that of the Hand—to act. And the Princess's role... is that of the Voice. Should the Master ever need to issue a decree to the nations of the world, it will be through her lips that it is spoken. An Empress carrying the word of a God."
He beamed, incredibly pleased with his own deductive reasoning. He had single-handedly created the foundational doctrine of their new, unintentional cult.
Lyno chose that moment to let out a loud, snorting snore and roll over in his sleep, his arm flopping limply off the side of the bed.
SNORK! Fwump.
The three followers immediately froze, their attention snapping back to him.
"He stirs!" Aurelia whispered, her nervousness returning.
"No," Valerius breathed, his gaze fixed on Lyno's dangling arm. "It is a sign. He gestures even in his slumber."
Seraphina's eyes narrowed. "He is pointing towards the floor."
The three most powerful people in the room stared intently at Lyno's limp, sleeping hand, which was vaguely pointing at a dusty floorboard. They analyzed its angle, its limpness, its subtle twitch.
"The floorboards..." Aurelia mused. "Does he sense something beneath the bookstore?"
"A hidden chamber? A source of power?" Seraphina offered, her mind instantly going to secret passages and buried artifacts.
"You are thinking too literally!" Valerius chided them gently. "He is not pointing at a physical location. He is gesturing downwards. Towards the foundational principles. The earth. The common folk. It is a reminder! He is telling us not to be lost in grand theories of statehood and power, but to remember that our purpose, our very foundation, is service to him!"
He nodded, his interpretation clicking into place. "It is a lesson in humility, a course correction for our nascent hubris. How compassionate of him to guide us, even in his rest! Truly, his wisdom is boundless."
Princess Aurelia and Seraphina Vex looked at each other. Their rivalry was still there, a sharp, cold line between them. But for the first time, a glimmer of shared understanding passed between them. They were both here to serve. Valerius's interpretation, whether right or not, had given them a common framework. They were the Mind, the Hand, and the Voice of their new, terrifying, and currently-snoring Master.
Downstairs, the front door bell tinkled softly.
ting-a-ling
Seraphina's entire body went rigid. "An intruder."
Aurelia's hand went to a small, ornamental dagger she kept hidden in her gown. "At a time like this?"
Valerius simply smiled. "It seems our first official duty is at hand." He turned to Seraphina. "Hand, will you go and see who dares disturb the Master's peace?"
Seraphina nodded, a predatory gleam in her eyes. It was a chance to prove her usefulness.
With a whisper of movement that didn't stir the air, she was gone, melting into the shadows of the staircase to greet their unexpected visitor. And she prayed, with all her assassin's heart, that they would be hostile.