Griswald sat on the rotting wooden steps of the abandoned farmhouse, his lanky frame hunched forward. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the overgrown weeds in the yard. The silver moonlight painted the ruined French countryside in shades of pale gray. His breathing slowed as the adrenaline of the afternoon finally ebbed away. They had survived a dragon and a corrupted saint. He supposed the day could have ended much worse. His mind drifted back to the sheer absurdity of the afternoon, specifically the moment he had to explain the mechanics of his Servant contracts to their new servant friends.
The memory played out with painful clarity. They had just reached this house after escaping the burning forest. Seems like there are a lot of these houses now abandoned after the dragons started to rain fire from the sky. Jeanne lay unconscious on a makeshift cot in the corner, her breathing steady thanks to his healing magecraft. Griswald stood in the center of the dusty parlor, facing Marie Antoinette and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The composer had been tuning a phantom orchestra with his baton while the queen admired a cracked teacup. Griswald cleared his throat to get their attention.
"My magical circuits are severely underdeveloped compared to standard mages." Griswald kept his voice flat and clinical, desperate to mask his rising panic. "I cannot passively supply the ambient mana required to sustain a Servant in the field. The only viable method to form a contract and maintain your combat reserves requires a direct, physical transfer of bodily fluids meaning a mana transfer."
Mozart froze. The pale conductor lowered his baton, his narrow greenish-gray eyes widening in genuine shock. His long, delicate fingers hovered in the air as if he had just missed a crucial beat in a symphony.
Marie tilted her head to the side. A dull, uncomprehending smile rested on her small, softly defined lips. She blinked her large blue eyes at him.
A sharp, barking laugh erupted from the composer. Mozart threw his head back, his long silver-blond hair cascading over the golden lining of his cloak. He laughed until his slender shoulders shook, the sound echoing off the peeling wallpaper of the parlor.
Marie turned her gaze to her companion, her cheerful demeanor shifting into a look of mild reprimand. "Amadeus, please contain yourself. This is a serious matter regarding our survival and the fate of France."
Mozart pressed a pale hand to his chest, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye. "My sincerest apologies, my radiant queen. It is simply one of the most amusing jests I have encountered in centuries. The sheer comedic timing of our brave Master is truly a gift."
Marie looked back at Griswald, her bright eyes searching his flushed face. "I do not believe our Master is joking, Amadeus. He speaks with the utmost sincerity."
Mozart brought a wide, knowing smile across his aristocratic features. "I am well aware he speaks the absolute truth, my dear. That is precisely what makes it so incredibly hilarious."
Griswald shifted his weight on the rotting floorboards, his lanky frame tense. He adjusted his glasses, pushing the messy light blond hair out of his eyes. He watched Marie process the information, noting the exact moment her brain connected his medical jargon to the physical act. The dusty parlor suddenly felt entirely too small for the five of them, the air thick with the smell of dry rot and old ash. He felt a bead of sweat trace the line of his spine.
"You are asking me to engage in sexual intercourse with you."
Griswald opened his mouth to confirm her deduction, but a sharp cough cut him off. Ritsuka stepped forward, her amber eyes flashing with mischievous intent. She planted her hands on her hips and leaned toward the bewildered queen, completely ignoring the heavy tension in the room. Her vibrant orange-red ponytail bounced with the sudden movement.
"It does not have to be penetrative sex in the traditional sense of him fucking you." Ritsuka held up a finger to count off the options, her voice echoing off the peeling wallpaper. "He can do anal sex, oral sex, or it could just be Griswald masturbating onto your face and you licking it up. Just as long as his fluids get into your body."
Mash spun around on her heel, her pastel-lavender hair whipping through the air. She slapped both hands over her face, her shoulders hunching inward as a deep crimson flush spread across her neck. Marie dropped her gaze to the floorboards, her pale hands flying up to cover her burning cheeks. The silence in the room grew thick and suffocating, broken only by the distant caw of a crow outside.
"Please stop right there." Griswald threw his hands up, his voice cracking as he glared at the orange-haired girl. "Mash and Queen Marie are about to pass out from the embarrassment."
Ritsuka dropped her hands and offered a loose shrug. She kicked at a warped floorboard, sending a small cloud of dust into the stale air. Her athletic build relaxed as she leaned back on her heels.
"Fine. Kissing works too if your into that sort of thing, but it adds barely any mana to your reserves."
Mozart let out a soft, melodic chuckle. He kept his eyes closed, a serene smile gracing his sharp aristocratic features. He tilted his head back, his long silver-blond hair shifting against the dark fabric of his cloak. The green leaf-shaped ornaments on his chest caught the dim light filtering through the broken windows.
"The people of the future are so much bolder than they were in our time aren't they Marie." Mozart swept a pale hand through the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra. "No one would have dared say such things to the queen back when we were alive."
Marie lowered her hands, though the pink flush remained on her skin. She offered a bright, airy laugh that completely failed to mask her lingering fluster. She smoothed down the front of her vivid crimson dress, regaining a fraction of her regal composure. The large red mushroom-shaped hat atop her head bobbed with the motion.
"It is truly great for us to be able to speak so freely without fear of scandal." Marie clasped her hands in front of her waist, her expression shifting into one of polite concern. "But back to the matter at hand, it seems highly improper for me and Griswald to make love given that I am married."
"Most marriage vows include the specific phrase regarding death doing the couple part." Ritsuka crossed her arms and leaned her shoulder against the peeling wallpaper, her athletic stance projecting absolute confidence. "Since you exist as a Heroic Spirit, you are already dead in a literal sense, being with Griswald would not constitute cheating on Louis."
Marie brought a pale hand to her chin, her large blue eyes widening as the legal logic settled into her mind. The large red mushroom hat atop her head bobbed slightly with the motion. "That is true I suppose the earthly contract was indeed broken at death." She dropped her hand and smoothed the crimson fabric of her skirt, a melancholic shadow crossing her delicate features. The silver buckles on her vivid dress caught the fading light as she shifted her weight. "Yet my heart rebels at the notion with every fiber of my being. It feels profoundly wrong to share my bed with another man after my dear Louis."
"But France requires you to operate at full strength at this very moment." Ritsuka stepped closer, her amber eyes locking onto the queen's gaze with intense focus. "We face a corrupted saint and a massive dragon in the immediate future. If you run out of mana in the middle of a fight, you will perish again, and this time you will not return to us. Griswald can keep you alive and fighting."
Marie stared at the warped floorboards, her pale fingers twisting the fabric of her dress. The dark ruffled layers around her thighs moved as she adjusted her posture.
"If we are applying such liberal interpretations to our earthly vows, does this mean I shall also lay with our young Master?" Mozart placed a pale hand over his heart, his narrow eyes sparkling with wicked amusement. The golden lining of his enormous cloak caught the dim light filtering through the broken windows. "I was quite devoted to my Constanze, but a musical genius must explore all avenues of inspiration, and our Griswald does possess a certain tragic charm that might spark a brilliant new concerto."
Absolute silence descended upon the dusty parlor. The setting sun cast long, distorted shadows across the floorboards. The distant caw of a crow echoed through the broken window. Griswald shifted his weight, his lanky frame stiffening as a hot flush crept up his neck. He adjusted his glasses, pushing the messy light blond hair out of his eyes. He drew a deep breath, he kept saying in his head its for the mission, its for the mission. But he did not get a chance to give his reply.
Mozart raised a long, delicate finger, halting the words before they could leave the young mage's mouth. "I offer my sincerest apologies, my friend." The composer lowered his hand. "I failed to realize you are one of those earnest types who takes every jest to heart. Dead or alive, I retain a profound fondness for my wife Constanze, and my heart belongs solely to her memory."
"Sadily that it means I will be unable to perform for you all at my peak. It is a profound tragedy." Mozart sighed, his slender shoulders slumping beneath his elaborate black garment. The green leaf ornaments on his chest trembled with his exhalation. "A composer without all of his instruments is like a painter without his pigments." He suddenly straightened his posture, a brilliant smile illuminating his pale face. "Then again, a true musical genius never requires a full orchestra to produce a masterpiece. My mind holds every symphony ever written, and I shall make do with whatever the world provides."
Griswald exhaled a breath he did not realize he had been holding. The tension in his shoulders dissolved, leaving his muscles aching from the strain. He looked at Marie, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and lingering sorrow.
"We can take things at your own pace, Your Majesty." Griswald kept his voice steady, projecting a calm his racing heart contradicted. "We do not half to figure everything out right now."
Marie offered a small, radiant smile that transformed her face. "You are far too kind, Griswald. No matter what may come I will cherish our partnership Via La France!" The queen proclaimed.
Ritsuka let out a loud groan and threw her hands in the air. "You guys are going to get us killed with all this polite hesitation."
Mozart chuckled, a melodic sound that seemed to harmonize with the rustling leaves outside. "Patience is a virtue, my fiery friend. We must allow the queen to navigate her royal duties at her own tempo."
Ritsuka kicked a piece of rotting wood, sending it skittering across the floorboards. "We do not have time for a royal courtship. The dragon is likely eating a village at this exact moment."
The mention of a village being consumed by dragon fire stripped the radiant smile from the Queen of France. Marie stared at the warped floorboards, her large blue eyes losing their usual brilliant sparkle. Her delicate fingers twisted the crimson fabric of her skirt until her knuckles turned white. The dark ruffled layers around her thighs shifted as she took a shaky breath.
"The citizens of France are my heart and soul." Marie whispered the words to the dusty room. "Every tear they shed burns my own spirit. I can still hear the laughter in the markets of Versailles and smell the fresh bread baking in the ovens of Paris. My people are suffering in the dark while I stand worried about my own comfort."
She drifted into a profound silence, her gaze fixing on some distant tragedy only she could see. The oppressive weight of her kingdom's destruction settled over her slender shoulders. She looked like a porcelain doll left out in the rain, fragile and entirely out of place in the ruined farmhouse.
Griswald shifted his weight and cleared his throat. He pointed toward the broken window where the sun dipped below the jagged tree line, casting long purple shadows across the parlor.
"The light is fading fast." Griswald kept his voice steady and practical. "We should focus on securing this location for the night."
Mash stepped forward, her pastel lavender hair catching the dim evening light. She adjusted the strap of her shield and looked directly at the young mage.
"Master is human and will requires sustenance to maintain his physical condition." Mash stated the biological necessity with her usual quiet seriousness. "We need to prepare a meal before the temperature drops further."
The melancholic haze vanished from the face of the French queen in an instant. She clapped her pale hands together, the silver buckles on her dress chiming softly. A bright, radiant smile transformed her delicate features.
"I would absolutely love to help cook!" Marie bounced on the balls of her feet. "I never really had the chance to do it while I was alive. The royal chefs forbade me from entering the kitchens, claiming a queen should not soil her hands with flour and grease. I always wondered what it felt like to chop vegetables and stir a heavy pot."
She turned and practically skipped toward the small kitchen area at the back of the farmhouse, humming a cheerful tune.
Griswald watched her disappear around the corner and let out a long breath. He leaned against the peeling wallpaper and closed his eyes, grateful for the sudden shift in atmosphere. The heavy guilt in his stomach began to ease.
He knew Ritsuka did not intend to be cruel with her blunt suggestions. The girl with orange hair simply viewed the world through the lens of survival and efficiency. Yet the idea of pressuring a grieving queen into sexual intercourse just to top off her mana reserves made his skin crawl. The transaction of flesh for magical power felt incredibly dirty when the recipient was mourning the literal burning of his homeland.
It was these thoughts that brought Griswald back to the present. Neither of them were quite what he expect but its not like books could every really prepare you for the main thing, he is reminded of that a lot these days.
The back door creaked open. Mozart stepped onto the small wooden porch, his enormous cloak lined with gold billowing behind him. The pale composer leaned against the wooden railing and looked out at the darkening forest.
A bright laugh escaped the musician. Mozart clapped his pale hands together, the sound sharp against the quiet evening.
"The queen possesses a wonderful enthusiasm for simple tasks." Mozart rested his elbows on the railing, his long silver hair catching the twilight. "I suspect she will attempt to bake a cake using only the stale flour we found in the pantry."
Griswald adjusted his glasses and watched a flock of birds scatter across the bruised purple sky. "She seems happy to have a normal distraction."
"Normalcy is a rare luxury in our current circumstances." Mozart turned his head, his narrow greenish eyes studying the young mage. The playful smirk faded from his aristocratic features. His slender shoulders dropped, and his posture stiffened. "I must express my gratitude for your restraint earlier."
Griswald kept his gaze fixed on the tree line. "There is nothing to thank me for."
"Your companion possesses a rather aggressive approach to our survival." Mozart tapped his long fingers against the wood. "I appreciate your decision to let the queen set her own boundaries in this regards."
Griswald sighed. "I apologize on behalf of Ritsuka for her pushy behavior." Griswald shifted his weight, his lanky frame tense against the railing. "She means well but is just worried. Especially with how badly we were beat today."
A melodic chuckle vibrated in the chest of the composer. Mozart waved a dismissive hand, his golden cloak swishing with the motion. "Do not concern yourself with her bluntness. Marie is a queen of France. If she could not handle a bit of pressure from a loud girl with orange hair, she would never have survived the viper pit of the Versailles court."
Mozart leaned forward, his pale face illuminated by the first emerging stars. "She will make the decision because she believes it serves her people not because she was talked into it. That unwavering conviction is one of the many reasons I hold her in such high regard."
Griswald stared at the profile of the composer. The historical texts from his studies library flashed through his analytical mind. He recalled the letters and records detailing the childhood of the Habsburg archduchess. A specific anecdote about a musical prodigy visiting the Vienna palace at six years of age tumbled to the forefront of his memory.
"I read about your first meeting with her." Griswald kept his voice low, his thin lips pressing together. "The historical records mention a rather bold proposal you made to her when you were both children."
Mozart threw his head back and let out a booming laugh. The sound echoed across the empty yard, startling a nearby owl. He wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye, his pale cheeks flushing with genuine amusement.
"Ah, the infamous marriage proposal." Mozart placed a hand over his heart, his expression softening into fond nostalgia. "I was quite the little agitator back then. I saw the most beautiful girl in Europe and immediately decided she belonged to me."
"It must have been quite the shock for the royal court." Griswald pushed a messy layer of blond hair out of his eyes. "Proposing to an archduchess at six years of age."
"They found it endearing, mostly because I followed it up with a flawless harpsichord recital." Mozart turned his gaze back to the forest, his smile lingering. "It taught me a valuable lesson about navigating the desires of royalty."
Mozart angled his head toward Griswald, his pale green eyes glinting with mischief. "You know the Throne of Heroes grants us all a little information about the future like the phrase The worst she can say is no. Tell me, my friend, am I utilizing that particular philosophy correctly for that moment?"
Griswald let out a small, breathy laugh, the sound entirely lacking the booming resonance of his companion. He reached up to adjust his glasses, his lanky frame shifting awkwardly against the rough wood of the fence. "I suppose that would be an accurate way to sum up such an audacious proposal," he replied, his tone earnest and laced with self-deprecating amusement. "Though I imagine the Habsburg courtiers were less charmed by the impertinence than they were by the music."
Mozart smiled, a wistful expression softening his sharply defined, aristocratic features as he looked out into the shadowy trees. The moonlight caught the pale, silver strands of his long hair, casting a faint glow around his pointed ears. "That fleeting childhood encounter was the only time we ever truly saw each other," the pale composer murmured. He rested his long, delicate fingers upon the weathered wooden railing. "We never met again. Even when I traveled to Paris as an adult, we never got the chance to speak. The gulf between a royal consort and a traveling musician was simply too vast even for my skill."
Griswald frowned slightly, his grey eyes reflecting his analytical mind as he processed this historical discrepancy. He crossed his arms, his practical Chaldea uniform rustling in the cool night air. "I would have never guessed it, to be entirely honest," Griswald admitted, stumbling slightly over his words as he navigated the delicate social terrain. "Observing the two of you at the today... Marie is incredibly friendly with you now. She treats you with such warmth, as if you were the closest of confidants."
Mozart kept silent at first, his pale greenish-gray eyes tracing the dark, imposing silhouette of the forest canopy. The elaborate green, leaf-shaped ornaments on his black chest garment seemed to absorb the meager light. "I did not expect such radiant friendliness from her when we first met each other here," he finally said, his tone stripped of its usual eccentric bravado. "Given the grand stage of history we occupied, we might as well have been complete strangers in life. Yet, she embraces me with the same unconditional love. In truth I am surprised she still has such love to share."
The composer closed his eyes in deep thought, holding the heavy silence between them. The quiet stretched on, thick and palpable, filled only by the rhythmic, distant chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves. Griswald shifted his weight, his inherent social anxieties flaring up as his overactive mind convinced him he had pried too deeply into the Servant's personal history. Feeling as though he had overstepped his bounds, he cleared his throat loudly. "The, ah... the wind is picking up," he stammered, gesturing vaguely toward the swaying branches.
Mozart opened his eyes and laughed it off, entirely unbothered by the abrupt change of subject. A bright, melodic sound escaped his narrow lips, ringing out like a perfectly tuned chime in the quiet yard. "Please, my dear Griswald, do not feel the need to entertain me or apologize for your curiosity," the eccentric genius said, his easygoing nature returning. He turned to face the lanky mage, his enormous gold-lined cloak billowing slightly behind him. "I am perfectly content with my memories. Rest your mind. I will take the first watch and ensure our perimeter remains secure."
Griswald accepted the offer with a profound sense of relief, his tense shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch. He offered a polite, grateful nod to the taller man. "Thank you, Amadeus. I appreciate it," he said, his earnestness shining through his usual timidity. "I am going to go for a brief walk around the perimeter of the farmhouse. It helps me clear my head."
Mozart nodded in understanding, his sharp features relaxing into a look of fond amusement. With a theatrical flourish, he raised his hand and waved the young mage off, twirling a sleek conductor's baton between his long, gloved fingers. The pale composer turned back toward the dark tree line, standing as an elegant, otherworldly sentinel beneath the stars as Griswald went out.
Griswald paced the perimeter of the dilapidated farmhouse. His boots crunched against the dry, dead grass. The cool night air did nothing to settle the chaotic storm in his mind. Two new Servants now stood in their ranks. Both refused the intimate mana transfers required to sustain them long term. He understood the logic perfectly. Asking for sexual favors from strangers minutes after meeting them bordered on the absurd.
His logical mind failed to quiet the bitter voice in his head. He stared at his pale hands. The magical circuits beneath his skin felt weak and inadequate. The Von Garmisch name carried centuries of magical theory and academic prestige. His parents expected him to restore their declining lineage. Instead, all he could restore is people health. If he possessed a more handsome face, his interactions would flow with natural charm. If he spoke with practiced smoothness, the queens and composers of history would overlook his awkwardness. If he were the powerful mage his family desperately wanted him to be, he would not need to beg for for mana transfers to keep his Servants going. He could have been a proper master commanded respect and supplied mana.
The crushing weight of his inadequacy settled over his lanky frame in waves. He slouched forward, his shoulders curling inward. A proper master would have been able to fuel Jeanne against the corrupted saint and her allies today. They would not have lost the battle so spectacularly. Jeanne would not lie inside the farmhouse, her skin blistered and her body broken. His failure directly caused her suffering. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the memory of her burns. In the end everything seemed to come back to him not being enough.
A sharp electronic beep shattered his depressive spiral.
Griswald flinched and raised his left arm. The wrist communicator glowed with a harsh blue light. He tapped the activation rune.
Da Vinci filled the small holographic projection. Her usually composed face twisted into a mask of tight anxiety. Her amber eyes darted across her own monitors, reflecting the frantic scrolling of data.
"Griswald, listen to me very carefully." Da Vinci leaned closer to her camera, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "I am reading massive spiritual pressure signatures converging on your exact coordinates. The readings indicate one incredibly powerful entity or two separate combatants closing in fast."
Da Vinci looked around him. "Where is Mash Griswald?" Da Vinci demanded, her voice tight with suppressed panic.
Griswald swallowed hard and tapped the side of his wrist. "Mash is not with me right now. I stepped out to clear my head."
Da Vinci slammed her fist onto her desk, the sound echoing through the tiny speaker. Her mechanical bird flapped its wings in agitation. "You absolute fool! You never separate yourself from your servant! Get back to Mash immediately and form a defensive perimeter!"
"I am on my way back right now." Griswald turned on his heel and sprinted toward the farmhouse door.
"Hurry!" Da Vinci shouted, her holographic image flickering as the connection degraded. "They are right on top of you!"
The hologram vanished. The communicator went dead as someone stepped out of the forest.
The stranger possessed a delicate, youthful face with a small, softly rounded shape. Her complexion remained exceptionally pale, contrasting sharply with the vivid colors of her attire. Large, almond-shaped eyes with vivid golden-yellow irises locked onto Griswald.
Fine dark lashes framed her eyes, drawing attention to the extremely long, pale turquoise-green hair cascading down her back. The silky strands reached almost to her ankles, shimmering with lighter mint highlights in the moonlight. Two prominent, pale blue-white appendages rose from the top of her head, tapering sharply like slender horns. Smaller pointed structures clustered around their bases, giving her silhouette a distinctly fantastical, otherworldly appearance. Long, pointed ears extended horizontally from either side of her head, decorated with small golden-orange ornaments.
She wore an elaborate, traditional Japanese-inspired outfit dominated by shades of teal, turquoise, white, black, and gold. The long-sleeved teal kimono featured wide, flowing sleeves decorated with lighter turquoise sections creating angular patterns. A black obi wrapped firmly around her small waist, securing additional golden cords and decorative pieces that hung down her back. Her petite, slender frame exuded a graceful, almost ethereal quality despite the heavy fabric.
The girl tilted her head. She wore traditional geta-style sandals with dark soles and pale straps. A heavy, suffocating spiritual pressure began to leak from her small frame.
Griswald locked his knees and planted his boots firmly in the dead grass. His analytical mind calculated the distance between them and the speed of a Servant. The numbers offered zero chance of survival. He could never outrun this girl regardless of her class. The only viable strategy required stalling her until Da Vinci contacted Ritsuka and Mash. The tiny speaker in his ear remained dead, the connection severed by her overwhelming spiritual pressure.
"Good evening," Griswald offered, keeping his voice steady despite the rapid thumping of his heart against his ribs.
The girl blinked her large golden eyes. Her delicate lips parted in mild surprise before curving into a gentle, polite smile. "Oh, good evening to you as well. You startled me quite a bit standing out here in the dark all by yourself."
Griswald exhaled a slow breath. Her demeanor lacked the murderous intent of the corrupted Servants. He leaned against the wooden fence, crossing his arms to hide his trembling hands. "The night air is quite brisk. I was just taking a walk to clear my head before turning in for the night."
"It is indeed chilly." She brought a slender hand up to touch her cheek, her long turquoise sleeves cascading over her pale skin. "I was merely enjoying the quiet. The stars are exceptionally bright tonight, are they not? They remind me of a beautiful painting."
"They are." Griswald studied the pale blue-white horns rising from her head. Her polite facade masked an overwhelming spiritual pressure that made the hairs on his arms stand up. He needed to keep her talking. "I must ask. Are you here with the black-armored Jeanne D'arc?"
The girl tilted her head, her mint-green hair shimmering in the moonlight. "The black-armored Jeanne D'arc? I am afraid I do not know anyone by that description. Is she a friend of yours?"
Griswald processed her genuine confusion. She possessed no knowledge of the Dragon Witch. She must be a rogue Servant wandering the Singularity independently, much like Marie and Mozart. A surge of determination washed away his lingering fear. Chaldea desperately needed more allies to combat the corrupted witch He needed to recruit her.
"My name is Griswald Von Garmisch," he announced, pushing his messy blond hair out of his eyes. "I am a Master serving the Chaldea Security Organization. We are currently fighting to correct a massive distortion in human history."
Griswald stepped closer, his lanky frame uncoiling as he leaned into his pitch. "A false Jeanne d'Arc is burning France to ash with an army of wyverns."
Griswald but a sudden memory of Marie Antoinette's flustered reaction slammed into his brain. It would happen again, as soon as he mentions mana transfer. If he brought her back to the farmhouse without warning her, she would react exactly like the Queen of France. He needed to set the proper expectations immediately.
"Before we proceed, I must disclose a critical limitation regarding my magical capabilities." Griswald kept his tone strictly clinical, masking his rising embarrassment. "My personal magical circuits are severely underdeveloped. I cannot passively supply the ambient mana required to sustain a Servant in the field."
The servant cocked her in confusion.
Griswald adjusted his glasses, his thin lips pressing into a tight line. "The only viable method to form a proper contract and maintain your combat reserves requires a direct, physical transfer of my bodily fluids."
The gentle smile froze on her delicate face. Her golden eyes locked onto his grey ones, unblinking and entirely unreadable. The heavy spiritual pressure around her spiked, cracking the dry earth beneath her geta sandals.
"Please repeat that."
A heavy sigh filled the mind of Griswald. The girl reacted like any other normal person would when confronted with the idea of mana transfer. He kept his voice steady and confirmed he could only supply her with magical energy through that specific physical method.
"Are you asking me to be one with you, Anchin-sama?"
The delicate servant walked toward him. Her extremely long, pale turquoise-green hair spilled forward, covering her vivid golden-yellow eyes. The heavy spiritual pressure radiating from her petite frame began to spike.
Griswald was confused at the title she gave him but that did not matter right now. He tried to think how to answer that, he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "In a way..."
The sentence trailed off into the cool night air. She continued to close the distance between them. The oppressive weight of her magical aura pressed down on his shoulders, making it difficult to draw a full breath. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He worried he had upset her and that she had taken offense to his crude proposition. The sheer magnitude of her spiritual pressure meant everyone at the farmhouse would feel her approach and arrive here soon.
"I apologize if my words caused offense." Griswald started, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I just thought you should kn—"
"You are not lying."
The pale girl stopped him with those three simple words. Than she closed the remaining distance in a single, fast motion. She threw her weight forward and and knock him onto his back in the dead grass pined by her weight.
Griswald squeezed his eyes shut, convinced he was about to die. He braced for the crushing blow that would end his miserable life. He opened his eyes and found himself confused.
She hovered over him, her face flushed a deep, feverish crimson. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were filled with swirling, glowing hearts.
"I have finally found you, Anchin-sama!"
She threw her arms around his neck and started aggressively cuddling him. Griswald lay there in total confusion as her soft breasts crushed against his chest. Her plump, inviting hips ground down into his lap, her narrow waist dipping against his stomach. The tight black obi squeezed her modest but perky cleavage upward, forcing her pale, soft mounds to spill out of the dark inner collar of her teal kimono and smear against his face. Her long, thin limbs wrapped around his lanky frame, her plump thighs straddling his hips and locking his legs in place. The sheer erotic weight of her petite body pressing into his groin made his mind short-circuit.
"I knew I would find you again, my beloved Anchin-sama!"
She buried her face into the crook of his neck, her hot breath searing his skin. Her long, silky mint-green hair cascaded over them both, creating a fragrant, luminous curtain that blocked out the rest of the world. She squeezed him tighter, her small hands digging into his shoulders.
"True love conquers all the lies and the distance and the burning flames!"
"I will never leave your side again, Anchin-sama!"
She lifted her head, her golden eyes shining with unhinged devotion. The swirling hearts in her irises pulsed with a manic, obsessive light. She rubbed her delicate, youthful cheek against his jaw, her small, lightly defined lips parting to let out a series of breathless, ecstatic giggles.
"We are tied by fate, my sweet Anchin-sama, and fate has brought you back to my waiting arms!"
She pressed her small, softly rounded face against his, her nose brushing his cheek. The heavy spiritual pressure that had terrified him moments ago now felt like a warm, suffocating blanket of pure affection. Her plump thighs squeezed his hips tighter, pulling his lower body flush against her own.
"I accept your offer my love, from this day until your last you are mine, Anchin-sama!"
She peppered his face with rapid, wet kisses, her small tongue darting out to taste his skin. Her long, slender fingers traced the line of his jaw, her touch gentle despite the crushing force of her embrace. The golden cords and decorative pieces hanging from her waist jingled softly with every frantic movement of her hips.
There were many possible outcome he thought might happen because of his propose to her to join them.
"I love you, Anchin-sama, I love you, I LOVE YOU!!!!"
This was not one of them.