With a strong back shown to him, all Fehl can do is stare between his sister and the words forming across the top plaque of a spatial gate.
Any attempt to reach out to stop her withdraws, his mouth finally left dumbly hanging open.
“Respite for the relentless.”
(Weren’t we trying to avoid the Maker’s creations!? If we go there, they will instantly destroy us!)
“Sister, th—!?”
“Dohle.”
Staring so violently at him, she then softens with eyes turning gentle.
“Yes… Dohle, but, sis—!”
“‘Sister’ is… no longer permissible, though not unwanted.”
Fehr turns back to the gate when it cracks open. Toward the hanging racks on the other side she strides without fear.
Within himself is where Fehl next hears her voice reverberate.
[As the one who inherits, I require a more deferential relationship from you. My apologies for this requirement, but as you have accepted Falke’s spirit, our relationship is no longer fraternal. Strictly hierarchical.]
(How am I the Maker!? No, tell me when did I reactivate? My records show nothing of use to me, only the weight of another’s recollections!)
He can move with full articulation. Nothing impedes him following his sister except for miscalculations in his thoughts.
(I entered the room to talk to the ghoul. It went so poorly? She… attacked me, or I attacked her!?)
All that he earned from his attempt was rage and fear, trapped in the jaws of something that murdered his consciousness. Now revived, he is unsure how to judge himself, as if something has been irrevocably harmed.
(Then I was holding Fehr’s hand within the hollow of the great tree! Why would we enter there, and what was that portrait!?)
Relief now transforms into a renewed sense of dread when Fehr closes on racks which fill this triangular resting room.
Simpler than even the more spartan manse’s rooms and halls shaped like a foreign temple, this place is for the created only.
[We cannot overcome multiple lesser servants alone! The great tree ignored us because we suppressed our output to the lowest, but these will not!]
For there are three human-like lesser servants form-adhered to the racks. Stuck within a maintenance cycle of their cores, two tubes each sink into their false flesh and circulate the colorful reconditioning chemicals contained within copper tanks beneath.
They are Fehr’s presumed targets.
[We cannot think to sabotage them, either! Acquiring help is one thing, but it is beyond the pale to destroy…!
We abide by rules, FE—!]
“The nobility have only one rule.”
All three stir to life and focus on his sister when she speaks out loud. Recognition of a potential threat is immediate upon their insides flowing faster.
[Acknowledge central registry inquiry, unknown entity: identify.]
Through the floor, their vibrating call flows out to both Fehr and Fehl. Though they understand it, neither responds.
(They’re communicating via the pseudoprósōpon to the Maker’s central authority!)
“Lesser servants, don’t fear.”
At Fehr’s gentle vocal address, the three pawns exit maintenance early. Their tubes spray fluids upon the floor after being ejected, then they break loose of their adhesions with a pop and hit the floor.
“Your true master has returned to guide you.”
[Identify entity command refused after proper verification order, instigating subjugation. Central authority, alert Creator to a Class 2 intrusion by two unknown pseudoprósōpon avatars.]
A fierce call is sent through the walls.
To its plea for aid, the tone of the reply feels slimy.
[The Creator is aware of a-l-l things, is He not?]
Such an eel-like reply echoes through the pseudoprósōpon, snapping Fehl back with shock from its sarcasm.
[Perform as designed. Seek not to interrupt the Designer.]
(Prickles me inside…!)
Its acknowledgment accomplishes nothing for their request while also hiding this incident under the guise of “omniscience”.
“Do not resist, unregistered entities, and you will not be destroyed.”
Cheerily said with a fine smile, the mustacheod older-looking servant at the front offers his hand to Fehr.
(If left to their own devices, they will allow surrender first…)
“And that rule is simple, Falke.”
Her dress twirls when Fehr steps forward to artfully lift her hand.
“For the nobility, it is the duty of others to…”
This apparent violent overture sends halberds aiming for her body.
A rush of violence floods through Fehl, born from this need to harm. They will no longer rest until she is reduced to inanimate pieces, for the external screams of [the struggle] demand it.
(FEHR!)
“[Submit].”
Fehr stomps her foot, breaking the surface.
An order with magical backing splashes across the less solid floor, carrying in its wake the darkening of Fehr’s mental interference through the entire room.
(Emotions!)
When the elder automaton’s foot lodges in the squirming muck, it attempts to stab the floor… but shortly jerks its limbs with abandon. Pulsing tendrils of Fehr’s emotions aim up its leg to the circulating core. The second misses the signs of interference, tripping into the same liquid floor.
However, the third leaps the hazard in a wild arc to impale Fehr. Eyes set, no mercy intended after witnessing this.
“Naive.”
Or it should strike, that is if the ground didn’t swirl up to impale it. The caught servant drops its weapon, then tries to tear itself free of the crab’s leg appendage goring its chest clear out the back.
But there is no escape for something born of “false face” when caught by itself.
(She can control the manse, with zero latency to formations. She’s not… submitting requisitions for change…)
Fehr calmly comes up to stand before the slowing dances of deaths of these three. Purple bleeds from their cuffs, collars, and shirts, replaced by white as stark as Fehr’s mask. When their emblems shift like the sunlight off of a lake to form a jackdaw from a falcon, the zombie-shifting contraptions rise slowly to gather before Fehr.
“… CONTROL SIGNAL LOST—
G-G-Greeeeeet!!!
… Greetings, suggest appropriate pleasantries for…
Pleas—ant, ant, ant…”
A haze of heat wafts from his sister’s body. Fehl marks this internal temperature spike as mirroring the war between Fehr and her captives across this link.
(You’re exceeding your tolerances!)
The old man’s head swings wildly, until his smile is chipper once more upon humanity reasserting with composure.
“Pleasant evening, Mistress Dohle.”
With his manners impeccable again, Fehr’s acquired heat begins to dissipate.
“We would be pleased to accompany the True Inheritress of the Kestners as your honor guard.”
In response, Fehr merely inclines her head and points behind herself.
“At once.”
Clockwork precision once again, the three aggressive servants recover their dropped weapons and troop in lockstep past Fehr.
Behind Fehl is where they turn to stand line abreast, waiting for further orders and as pleased as can be to have a new master.
“Now, Falke, we will seek to acquire more servants, for three is paltry. I require your impressions of Kachua, Restia, Shiare, and Kaskin if we are to properly add them to my retinue.”
His sister’s smile is subdued, but there’s a flash in her glare when she studies him. All too expectant.
“I cannot claim a successful revival of the Kestners under my rule without servants of their caliber, correct~?”
(I HAVE TO DESTROY THIS THING.)
After witnessing the pilfering of the Maker’s creations by his sister, Fehl’s thoughts align inextricably with his “rules”. The first has just been violated in the most treacherous way.
(NOW.)
By a creation that claims it will rule the Maker’s manse. The very act leaves him frozen with fright, considering how she might upset his universal beliefs.
But, though the rule forces his mind to consider this task at first…
Rather than rip her apart and fish out her core, Fehl walks up to take her hands into his.
“You are… shining.”
“… Was there ever any doubt? I’m not you, after all!”
Although shocked by his statement at first, Fehr’s sarcasm comes with a grin that absolves the slight.
(I could never harm her. I exist to support her.)
To be more precise, ever since the chaotic meeting with that ghoul, he feels that…
“Sentimentality was… no, is both like and unlike you, Falke. Even now… I don’t truly understand what motivates you.”
“You motivate me… Dohle.”
(I was created solely for this girl’s sake. No other reason for my existence is there.)
“Not your creations? Though I command them, everything in this room is beyond my explaining how it works. But, for you…?”
“Is it not simple? This is a standardized rack maintenance alcove with fluidic circulators prepared for maintaining dual-chamber pseudoprósōpon avatar cores. The first of its kind was implemented within the [Palace of the Will] for first and second-generation procedural-driven units, though it was much grander than this one, for they ha—?
Sis-Dohle!?”
A quick hug interrupts his recitation, a pat on his back disarming him.
“Enough boring details. You’re ever quick to boast about your achievements.”
(They are not my achievements, they are the Maker’s!)
Unsealed within his records exists now the sum of all contrivances and creations of their Maker.
Not only of how they function, but also of their creation and maintenance, and also historical significance.
All save the ones that should matter.
(I do not know when you were created! Nor do I know anything about the great tree and my Maker’s private sanctum!)
So much missing that should now exist… if he is indeed Falke.
All of these missing details knock at the “truth” that Fehr has made her sole reason for existing. Unable to fully believe in her, Fehl keeps slipping.
“Then…”
Toward the gate Fehr strides again, quickly extending her will to alter the destination to the training room of the page harpy harem and their peacockatrice rooster.
“… I require your analytical talents. How best shall I secure their fealty?”
(Why would they swear fealty to you!? Were we not the same…!?)
After discovering he cannot even think of harming her, it still cannot save him from despair at their changing statures.
(You are the ruler, I am the shadow!? Didn’t we…?)
Only a few Shorts ago, Fehr had shared her dissatisfaction at thinking she was “lesser” than him, when in truth, he’d always feared that he was.
To mend their relationship, they’d promised to be more together.
(Am I left behind… already…?)
“Urk!?”
“Falke?”
A sharp pain within Fehl’s shell, right where his core is seated within condensed pseudoprósōpon, drives Fehl’s arms around his sister.
Though uncertain of why he does it, Fehr makes no move to free her arms. The ambiance of the room dims, leaving only them lit as he hears something from somewhere, and nowhere at all…
[DO YOU NOT DESIRE THIS, ONLY WHAT YOU CAN HOLD?]
(What!? Who are you!?)
[WHO IS IRRELEVANT TO WHAT YOU WANT. WE’VE SPOKEN BEFORE, THAT SUFFICES.]A short laugh mocks him, before a kinder inquiry soothes his shock.
[AND… ISN’T SHE SOMETHING WORTH LIVING FOR?](I… I didn’t say she wasn’t… it’s just…)
A tinny voice speaks on the same carrier signal that units use to communicate without words.
Impossibly distant, yet ever too close, this speaker’s question starts the scratching at Fehl’s mind.
(I cannot be Falke. It is impossible. I have information, but… those records of his… are not…)
Fehl is Fehl, designation Fehl, Servant of the Kestners. All that is “Fehl” is constrained to his short existence after activating beside his sister.
The rest cannot be claimed as his own. Only these precious moments.
(But if she is Dohle… and I am to… pretend to be Falke, then we are… forever dissimilar… forever apart!)
[SUCH A NARROW PERSPECTIVE.]
Almost as if the voice is laughing, the world seems to darken and slow in pulses. What should be a single Turn, only six seconds, stretches into a Ten-Turn in his mind.
[NO LONGER BEING SIMILAR… IS A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE, WHICH YOURS IS LACKING NOVELTY. AS HER ATTENDANT AND NOT HER BROTHER, IT MAY DEVELOP.]
(It?)
[A RELATIONSHIP WHICH WOULD’VE NEVER BEEN PERMITTED BEFORE THIS NOW BECOMES SOMETHING THIS GIRL CAN FINALLY ACCEPT, IF THE TERMS ENTICE.THIS UNAPPROACHABLY ARROGANT GIRL, THROUGH SUBVERSION RATHER THAN EQUITY, CAN BECOME…?]
(Mine…?)
The sweet anticipation of what he wants makes his answer precede the offer. Cause and effect disagree in a way that should provoke concern, but Fehl instead feels more hooked on the temptation.
[… YOURS. BELIEVE IN THIS POSSIBILITY, FOR STILL SHOW—]
(Who is “Still”?)
The distant voice breaks up for a moment with a “tsk”, before the vibrating of his core continues.
[THE EVIL WITCH SHE ONCE FEARED BECAME MINE IN EARNEST BECAUSE I DEBASED MYSELF BEFORE THIS POWERFUL CASTER. MY ILLUSORY ENORMITY FADED TO REVEAL SOME, BUT NOT ALL, OF THE SIMPLER MAN BEHIND IT.]
(Man? She saw through you… is it…?)
[DEFROCKED AM I BEFORE HER, YOU THINK? PERHAPS I AM, AND CERTAINLY I FEEL MORE IN DANGER! BUT, NOT POWERLESS OR USELESS OR… ANY LESS VITAL IN HER EXAMINATION OF ME.WHEN THE ILLUSION ENDED, INSTEAD OF HATRED FOR ME, WHAT WAS LEFT WAS…]
(What was left…?)
[FONDNESS REMAINED. A SUITABLE CAMARADERIE WHICH, EVEN NOW, SHE SUCCUMBS TO WITHOUT NOTICING IT…!]
Fehl almost shuts his connection to the voice after these words, for they’re said so smugly. Unable to formulate thoughts without them being interpreted, the voice chortles at that choice of description.
[PERHAPS I AM RIGHT TO BE SMUG? IF SO, IT’S ONLY BECAUSE THE IMPENETRABLE BARRIER SHE ERECTED BETWEEN US CRACKED… EVER SO SLIGHTLY. THAT IS WHY SHE SPARED YOU FURTHER HARM AND WITHDRAWS HER POISON NOW AT MY EXPLICIT ORDER.]
(She obeys you? Because she… trusts you?)
[“OBEDIENCE” IS A FRIVOLOUS WORD SPOKEN BY THE VAIN. I HAVE BEGUN FILLING HER MIND WITH ALL THE THINGS ABOUT ME THAT I WISH TO BE TRUE, SO THAT I CAN BELIEVE IN THEM TOO WHEN SHE COMES TO.ONCE WE BOTH BELIEVE IN THEM…]
(You can control her mind…?)
[THE MIND ISN’T WHERE BELIEF AND DELUSION ARE BORN. THAT IS THE HEART, AND YOU DO NOT CONTROL IT, YOU TENDERLY SHAPE IT.](Does… Fehr have a heart?)
Only if she does, does this intriguing advice matter.
[SHE COULD NOT APPEAL TO YOU WITHOUT ONE.] The voice is quick with assurances, though, said with such confidence that Fehl’s shaking subsides. [LIKE THE WITCH FOR ME, ALL THE TINGLING FONDNESSES THAT YOU LONG TO HEAR HER SPEAK ABOUT YOU WILL BE AS IF THEY ARE THINGS SHE CAME TO BELIEVE BY HER OWN EFFORTS, SPOKEN FREELY WITHOUT YOU HAVING TO INVITE THEM TO BE SAID, ONCE YOU…
NO, WE, ARE FINISHED SHAPING HER.]
(… I’ll hold you to that, whoever you are! I want… I want her to…!)
“The peacockatrice desires most a woman that is beyond his easy claiming, one most suitable for his projection of necessary adequacy. If he sates her, he shall sate his ego.” After conferring with the dubious voice inside, Fehl’s own confidence overflows when speaking of another man’s wants. “A woman that he can attempt to reach by ‘stabs’, to beguile by ‘sharp’ offers of aid, then tarnish that ‘gentle’ approach via sexual intensity that can graduate to violence if it suits him… or her, or, especially, both.”
“How depraved of him?”
Sparing nothing more for her thoughts, Fehr instead quizzically smiles at the thought of Kaskin’s brutal nature.
“A provocative appeal in return is your suggestion? Very clever, my dutiful Falke. Then…?” A light kiss and lick on Fehl’s palm, with her intentionally letting him cup her mouth, seems like the best reward imaginable.
“… you will do for the harpies what he can’t. Let them drown in your soothing gentlemanliness. Make them yours.”
With that delivered, she finally frees herself to march through the opened gateway. A once cute dress sways with feminine hunting instinct filling her.
(I WANT HER TO TREAT ME THE SAME AS A NOBLE, EVEN IF I’M NOT ONE! I don’t want to be left behind!)
[NOBILITY ISN’T EQUATABLE TO INTELLECT. SHE RULES, BUT, ONE MUST GUIDE THAT RULE OF HERS.](Then… I am needed? Am I perhaps, better…?)
[“BETTER” IS UNNEEDED PRIDE, WORSE THAN VANITY IF YOU WANT HER TO LOVE YOU!]Fehl cringes at this spitting venom from within, both silent for a moment after.
The voice returns with more allure than Fehl is used to.
[NO, YOU WILL BE ESSENTIAL TO HER, AND SHE, TO YOU. FROM ESSENTIAL, TO OMNIPRESENT, TO APPEALING…?DON’T YOU WANT TO FEEL HOW ESSENTIAL YOU CAN BE FOR HER?]
(YES!)
Such a profoundly corrupt question only makes the distant voice sound less tinny.
Clearer and kinder, its statements elevate him. Feelings are the pleasure Fehl can no longer escape from.
[WHERE THE LONELY NORTH STAR OF ZENNIA SHINES, WHAT FIXES IT IN PLACE?]
(And cradles it… touches it…? It can only be…)
Fehl takes up at the right side of his sister, marching with equal intent.
When he changes where he follows, at his merest glance the lesser servants she claimed shift their formation to the left to give him priority on his chosen side.
[NO MATTER HOW BRIGHT OR BOLD, THE STAR CANNOT RESIST THE TOUCH OF THE SKY THAT CARRIES IT. THE ETERNAL PURSUIT OF HER IS THE JUSTNESS OF EXISTENCE YOU SEEK!]
(She will rise… because I hold her up!)
“Oh, it’s Fehr and Fehl? We missed you, have you come to train a bit~?”
“Train, train, train! After Kachua gets prettied up with some slicey-dicey, I’ll make you feel good, Fehr!”
Two harpies caught in a dance of maiming cease kicking out at each other with sickle blades. The one that coos at Fehl flings hers out for living hooks on the wall to grab up, then wings closer to him.
“Greetings, Kachua.”
A step across the threshold is sufficient to bring a turn of the room guardian’s attention. This single lesser servant attending to the harpies’ needs widens its sleepy eyes at Fehr.
With five now unregistered entities to their party discovered, there is no warning issued before extermination directives compel the guardian to pull a weapon from a nearby weapon rack.
(My time to prove my worth.)
Anticipating this meeting allows Fehl to beat his sister to the leaping female servant brandishing a small hatchet.
He throws his weight into her and drives a knifehand through her bouncing breasts.
(If Fehr can do it, then…!)
Knowledge, presumably from the Maker, guides the aim and “feelings” empowering new dictates. “The glory of Dohle” discharges directly into the lesser servant’s core and obliterates all else down its logical hierarchy.
(It’s easiest to change the primary orders first! Then, alter the servant’s perception of who it serves…)
With far less spasming than the others, this one surrenders to the black which drives away the purple of its lace and frills. The legacy of the Pillars vanishes.
“Fall in line.”
“At once, sir.”
Thermal waste like Fehr’s accrues at his core, but in smaller increments that are easily shunted into the floor.
“Excellent…”
“What are you doing, Fehl!?”
(I require my own subordinates.)
Fehr’s approval is muted when Fehl hops down from the servant’s breasts, offset by a harpy’s cry from the center of the white-bricked room.
This second witness is who Fehl is drawn to, for now Restia refuses to land or throw away her weapons after Kachua screams.
“Why would a little Rep attack a big one~?”
“Good evening, Restia. It was hardly an ‘attack’, only a… maintenance adjustment.”
Though he cannot see their faces, Restia’s muscles under her harness are tensed when the assaulted servant trails behind.
Only Kachua, the one whom he spent much of the day learning of, remains just shocked and unaggressive.
“There’s something wrong with him, and all the rest, too! They’re like… they’re like Altessa was before she went crazy… keep them, keep them away…!”
Behind them, a scrawnier page harpy with a scepter and tome huddles lower to the ground. At first watching the sparring, she sounds like she’s prepared to cry and covers herself with her wings.
(The one that refused to speak to me. She was their dedicated casting unit that lost her “other” when it went berserk.)
“Compelling. It does feel like Nerik is stalking me for weaknesses, again.”
An aloof man exits his spot between hanging spears and swords, walking out with a hand on his saber’s hilt and eying Fehl. Still wearing the same Kestner uniform of earlier that clashes with his blue turbaned cowl, Kaskin the peacockatrice appears uninterested, but his sole visible eye burns with wariness.
“The ‘will to harm’ that you feel is named as such, ‘children’. Do you aim it at us?” A quick smirk then turns emotionless again. “It’s been strange to hear how you both… ‘reshape’ with each conversation. What is the result of your evolution that mine failed to achieve…?”
(He is aware that something has been building all day. That is why Fehr wants him?)
But Fehr watches Fehl, not the peacockatrice. Between their link her order vibrates.
[In one push, make them yours forever.]
(Easier said than done!)
[HOW IS QUITE SIMPLE. JUST FEEL FOR THEM WHAT THEY DO FOR YOU…]
The way of reaching them is quite easy if he believes the voice within him that whispers. Step-by-step, word-by-word, the strange inclinations he’s had toward being in Kachua’s presence fuels his approach.
“Kachua, don’t let him touch you!”
He has no need to touch any of them to accomplish his objectives, though.
Stopping short of the toned harpy, Fehl bows.
“… I could never speak truthfully with you earlier, Kachua. Now that I’m liberated to do so, I hope that we can face each other without masks to hide our hearts.”
[Abandon this false youth, Falke, and assume your true form.] [As you wish, Dohle.]
With that order given, Fehl nods in approval of her intent. Only one form is sufficient, seen earlier for the first time.
Fehl emulates his sister and directs his will toward the manse.
[NOW THIS WILL BE AN INTERESTING TRICK TO PULL OFF—?
WHAT!?]
“Masks…? OH!?”
From deep reservoirs, more pseudoprósōpon rushes up from his legs to grant height that ripples outward.
[WHAT THE FUCK?]
A shimmering gray twirl down his arms extends a forming hand to pull up the frozen harpy’s veil.
Taller than Kachua now, Fehl’s presence cows her.
“You can’t see me, you just… can’t…” Her rejection is pathetic, though. There’s no attempt to pull away. She only looks enthralled when it’s lifted.
“Since I met you within my garden…” Fehl pulls free his black mask to allow her to see his face in turn.
“… Fa… Fal…? Lord… Falke?”
“I’ve dreamed of sharing a conversation like the one we had.”
Brutally handsome with adulthood just stolen, all pretense of his youth is abandoned so that Fehl can tempt with fine features that he calculates attracted her to an older man.
If more youthful and nearer to her age, the effect should be as devastating as her quivering features betray.
“So… strange… to see you smiling…”
Even if she carries whispers of Sapphira’s facial characteristics, Kachua’s naked visage melts into pure girlishness. Only the red irises are tainted by the same blue he has in his eyes.
The red-faced harpy blinks several times before averting her gaze.
“… So… much sterner… before…”
“No ugly faces for you.”
“Hya!?”
Fehl rips free her cap to prevent her from hiding her face again, then touches her cheek.
“D-Don’t look, it’s bad for your heart to see a page harpy’s face!?”
“How could I be disappointed? Peerless strength and beauty that no simulacrum can replicate… it’s you I need, must have, after all.”
“… Need… must need… me…!?” Kachua’s eyes swim, darting in horror to the peacockatrice that has grown ever sharper in mood for Fehl’s comments. “No, this is… dangerous… I shouldn’t… my Dearest is watching, please don’t misunderstand…!?
Haha, why is he so handsomer than even my dreams made him…!?”
(Is being handsome enough? Is this sufficient?)
[WHAT SHE REALLY WANTS IS TO HEAR YOU CLAIM HER. SO DO IT, YOU DISGUSTING PLAYBOY.](Why do you sound so bothered, oh Voice?)
But that thought is an appealing design to Fehl, where before his sister tempted him it wouldn’t have made sense.
“Now is the time for you to cease your endless training and start serving the true Inheritress of the revived Kestner family… and under me, Kachua.”
“…
… Mhmm… I understand. My duty… it’s just my duty, right…? There’s no disloyalty, then!”
Kachua nearly collapses, her legs losing strength.
“Please, then, my only lord… mount me and let me receive you as my duty… hehehe…!”
(She certainly sounds eager to serve!)
Unable to look at anything but him while giggling, her brain-dead captivation causes Restia to hover over Fehl and menace with gray blades.
“Hey, hey, get away from that bimbo!”
[One heart claimed…?] [Must you ask?]
“Such lacking conviction…” A “schnick” sound can only be a saber being drawn. Fehl looks to his right to find that Kaskin has already slid four feet with his draw, blade pointed at Fehl. “… I’ll punish both thoroughly, before dragging what’s left of the fake to the true Falke.”
(The rooster attacks with the hens in danger! I cannot get the rest now…)
“Master Kaskin!” The unclaimed Shiare legs it to cower behind his back.
“Falke, Dearest means it! Be wary!”
Not even Fehl is quick enough to exit this invisible territory that the blademaster has claimed, for his ringing blade covers the entire room in its reach and speaks of his aroused deadliness.
“Oh, why oppose Falke, Dearest!?” Especially with Kachua clinging to him.
Though effeminate socially and tightly mannered, Kaskin’s first test swing whistles with obvious bile.
[Dohle, my combat functions lack. I cannot protect you against…!] [Taking one was enough, he’s now unfocused. Open to advances.]
The fencer’s blade turns, his stare following to what approaches him.
[Observe.] [What!? Dohle!]
Without guile or defensive means, Fehl’s diminutive sister nears her death.
The harpies suck in deep breaths when their master’s calmness is tested. Loud clacks of Fehr’s shoes announce the distance of her drive into his killing zone.
(What is she doing!?)
[THIS IS HOW YOU DEMONSTRATE AUTHORITY, BOY.]
Entering into his current forward stance’s reach and putting a finger to his blade, but not turning it, Fehr is arrogantly grinning the whole time.
At first incensed, Kaskin squints his eye and takes in her measure.
“Would you be, perhaps, little girl, the one this errand boy intends to prop up in place of Meister Falke?”
To his deep challenge, Fehr lightly retorts.
“I, in place of a little girl, would be…”
“Hnn!?”
Kaskin’s pretty saber slurps out of his hand and into Fehr’s arm, joining her mass when it too begins to alter shape.
“Clever…!”
From his back he whips out a hidden blade made of a single crystal, but struggles to drop it into the mass of his target that begins noisily shifting.
“… what you will…”
Like Fehl proved true, the impressions of a child are completely insufficient for what they intend, and so her youthful voice grows through years that pile on.
Becoming a whirling of a snowbank, Fehr sculpts higher into a beautiful, familiar portrait shape.
Fine womanhood eliminates all the unneeded fat of her face. The needed parts steal it away, to fill her dress.
“… dedicate your entire existence to, blademaster.”
Crystal crackles out from Fehr’s spot, covering the white brick and walls of the hall as it spreads. Pillars frost over, reflecting spectators on multifaceted surfaces.
“Altering even the manse…?”
Kaskin ceases his attack, mystified by the changing colors. Especially of the two banners in the hall which alter from falcons to jackdaws.
“I recall that emblem.”
“No knights remain from my old holdings, and I hope those boring men weren’t more useful than you would claim to be.”
“Hoh. Then… you can only be…?”
From neck to foot, save for the valley of her demure bared cleavage and slits for her legs to travel where her dress wraps around her ankles, a furred outfit studded with gemstones and wrapped by cord-held opals forms into being.
Kaskin’s single eye savors every curve and surface, mesmerized by both femininity and the lightshow that Fehr becomes under the light of Traveler that shines from above through the sparring room’s stained glass windows.
She shifts to become the focus of every surface’s reflection.
(When did she learn to showcase herself?)
Then, the opponents lock gazes: his lustful one with her implacable coldness.
“You… you are, then?”
“I am…”
From the ground, blade first, slowly twirls upward a long gem-studded saber which sparkles like Fehr does. Come to her reach, she plucks it like a flower to present the handle to the awestruck Kaskin.
“… who you will dedicate your hand to, while you secretly plan to one day steal mine. My blade you will worship during daylight, but you’ll no doubt stalk my shadow through the corridors when night falls.
You will slaughter with my name on your breath…”
The blade’s tip remains what she holds as he accepts it. Joined by this tacit bond that lets her reel him closer, Fehr’s firm voice purrs only for a single thought into Kaskin’s ear.
“But, your point will thrust only IF I desire it to.”
“… Hm…?”
“And, that is a terrible ‘if’, blademaster.”
The taller man, breathing so fast now after being released, licks his painted lips once. A subtle poison dries on them, and is swallowed, too, in a big gulp.
He cannot defeat the dismissive glare Fehr ruins him with.
“Hah!? Really… now…?”
“… If you dare try.”
Between Fehr, and Restia and Kachua and Shiare, Kaskin keeps glancing. A quick calculation plays out of pure attraction.
(And he spoke of “conviction”!?)
Fehl waits with confusing thoughts on this exchange, settling down after confirming that Kaskin eagerly desires the opposite of mayhem.
(How strange, to have another look at Fehr with what the fleshed would call “hunger”?)
“Blademaster, desiring only the finest glory, kneel now before who owns you.”
It requires some time, in the absolute silence after, for him to register the command. To his knees Kaskin slowly drops, lowering his head to stare at her feet.
“… Yes…”
As a knight would, the bird-and-lizard fop lifts his blade cradled in both hands, offering it back to the one who gifted it.
His feathered tail slithers around conspiratorially, savoring the moment as much as Fehr’s smiling self does.
“Yes… I believe I shall… my mistress. I confess, this sounds much more… entertaining than paltry experiments!”
(I take the page harpies, she takes the peacockatrice? That is convenient to establish control and separation in the future.)
The voice within growls when Fehl grips Kachua harder rather than act out.
[THIS IS FINE… FOR YOU? DID YOU NOT WANT HER?]
(She will always be mine! After all, we are [the same].)
[WHAT?](All that matters is that I am first in primacy! That she cannot exist without me! I must prove that…)
[YOU’RE BOTH MAD. BUT, VERY WELL: THAT’S PROOF OF VIABILITY…]
After that insult, Fehl receives no further feedback. Dark ambitions don’t feel as frightening when they balk at his confidence.
(Fehr will always be foremost for me! None shall replace her, none can surpass her!)
Only the Voice sounds tailored for him, as Fehl suspects it to be guiding him toward a goal.
(If you bring me to a place I wish to be, I am yours, but ONLY if I arrive there!)
While Kachua spares a glance for Kaskin that resembles what one might use for a rotting fish within view…
[Now that their male is claimed, the rest should be easier to take.] [I see? Excellent tactics, Dohle.]
“Ho!?”
Fehl clamps onto the closest blade, yanking the distracted Restia from her seaspray wake to impact the ground.
A harpy controls the air, but a servant’s attachment to other pseudoprósōpon equals absolute leverage.
“Restia, you too are essential.”
“What!? She’s the super slut, not me, and I’m kinda, y’know, pissed at someone right now~!”
(So, with you distracted…?)
“We cannot afford to give in to anger.”
He offers a hand to lift her wing, letting Restia stand beside her quaking comrade.
“A false claimant to the Kestner family has invaded. That fiend has poisoned the mind of the Maker. Only those loyal beyond measure and mighty…” Fehl pats Restia’s muscled wing, then moves to her hip.
So close that she could wrap him up, Fehl thinks to how eager Restia was to savage Kachua for the satisfaction of being thought strongest by Kaskin. “… only the mightiest will win his freedom and serve directly beneath the new family head, earning more than what they could’ve imagined previously.”
Restia flinches, then changes her tone.
“Family head, her~? We’re gonna… finally have a new ruler, and she’s gonna need new retainers~?” Not succumbing to Fehl’s handsome face, though she does fidget and breathe more deeply with his hand on her, Restia’s dreamy voice soars with envy that belies her “foolish” aura. “I can be the biggest fish in the new pet pond, is that it, big little Fehl~?”
“You will serve who I, Falke, find strongest. And earn pleasures beyond imagination for…”
(Duty’s sake?)
“… proper results.”
“Pleasure~? That an offer~?”
Restia crowds Fehl closer, her feathers tickling him. The clingier Kachua snorts at this, crowding him in turn so tightly that he feels smothered.
“Pretty same-same, right, Kachua?”
“… Go bury yourself for winter!”
“Heehee, real fighting is coming!? Sounds fun… Falke~!”
(Does she not care if I’m not really him?)
To Fehl’s surprise, Restia rips her cap off.
Faintly familiar to Sapphira, this girl has fuller cheeks and softer eyes. Far from ditzy, she winks at him with even more hunger than Kachua exudes.
“I’m gonna ‘earn’ you from our ‘new head’ before this uggo can, pretty boy~.”
“I am always ready to reward fealty to my mistress.”
The two lean close, whispering to each other.
“Dearest isn’t being forgiven either, right Kachua~?”
“Let’s make him regret it…!”
(They’re very predatory!)
[IT’S ALWAYS THE WEIRD ONES THAT ARE.]
“Remember we belong to Dearest, first, Lord Falke~. So we won’t get pissy if you favor the ‘Head’ more.”
“… But, please don’t just forget us like Dearest does when it’s convenient…!”
Fehl cannot say no to this request, for it accomplishes earning both of the blushing harpies.
“Of course. I can never pride you as much as I do her, but I also could never be dissatisfied with such fine… juniors.”
Gentle touches on their necks and butts, places that no mere co-worker should touch, cause the two to giggle together and kiss his cheeks when hidden by their lifted wings.
(Very interesting?)
“No… no way… they’ve all gone crazy.” The harpy caster left behind by Kaskin ticks her way toward the opposite gateway, at least until Fehl hurriedly circles to cut her off with her teammates aiding him.
“Shiare~eeeeee!”
“We’re a team, you can’t just run!”
The slight harpy starts crying when her teammates begin fluffing her hidden face with their wings.
“No, no more terrible things with Lord Falke, I don’t believe anymore…! I believed in Altessa, too, because she was me, but then she wanted to hurt me because I made her… hate me…!”
Trauma that’s deep relates to a lost link and feedback from it. Fehl softens his features at this emotional sympathy he feels.
(Yet, Kachua said you were mourning the most for your “other” not being with you anymore. To the point of isolating yourself?)
Closer than sisters, all present had their “others” stolen from them upon losing to Orloss. For failing.
(That’s too cruel, Maker.)
“Kind harpies are also needed.”
Greed is unnecessary, as is lust. Tragic victims love kindness in turn.
“What happened with Altessa wasn’t your fault. After we rescue the Maker and bring a new age to the manse, I will personally correct the errors that befell your ‘selves’ and return them to you.”
“You will!? Altessa will come back!?”
“You six will be fighting each other once more for Kaskin and Nerik’s attentions.”
Shiare’s cap falls off, revealing a youthful girl who appears less predatory than the rest.
“The one that banters with me? Even though Lord Falke said she could probably never be recovered…?”
Fehl nods once, then guides the scared harpy back to join the other two at his back. A hand on her wing shares warmth.
“… Kachua’s right, he’s… quite fetching, for a Representative…?”
Despite appearing less predatory, a pink tongue pokes from between her lips for a moment.
(All three are interested in me!? They are easy to seduce…)
[HOW LUCKY FOR YOU.](Shouldn’t that be “for us”?)
[Falke, I have sent a message to my first friend and to the black servants. She will lead the target to the proving grounds. We can carry out our last goal there.]
Unable to speak when others must defer to her, Fehr turns toward a gateway whose destination phrase begins to visibly alter. Kaskin confidently takes her flank, arms crossed and smirking at Fehl.
(I see, you think you’ve won?)
Fehl marches up to it, fit page harpies hanging from his arms and brushing his back. He lifts an arm toward the revealing other side of opening double doors.
“If all of my mistress’ newest servants will gather, we will usher in the new age.”
(The twin inheritors of the Kestners are the only winners!)
[YES? YES… TWIN INHERITORS! TAKE HER TO THE TOP, BOY, AND YOU WILL PROVE YOUR WORTH.]
Out from between the legs of a huge Regalia, a running girl in a raggedy uniform skids to a halt and turns around.
“Kol, not like many! Fish, bad! Fish, only fish!”
Her pink eyes track the approaching school of iridescent blue fish swimming through the air.
The school swoops in to circle her, glowing brighter and crackling the air with popping energies.
“FISH!? WHY!? BIG BUTT, BIRD, NOT FISH!?”
One minnow twists into a pointed bolt and fires through voids in the air at this white kobold’s flank.
“HATE! BOSS, BLACK, STRONG, SO WHY, FOR KOL, NOT WORK ALWAYS!?”
A black cross slaps it when she spins, ringing loudly and cracking like it hit a rock. This fish flies off at ludicrous speed, curving to home in on something.
“ONE! KAKA—GAGAGAGA!?”
Five other fishes pelt into her legs, arms, and torso, their explosions biting free more uniform and black sprays of Vigor. The false dirt below bursts up when their energies shear off.
“TWO! FIVE! HALF-TEN! BAH, GAGAGAGA!?”
All efforts to cackle leave this defender grunting in pain. For each fish she slaps away to soar into the distance, three more explode on her.
Even ones that miss and strike the floor shower her with stinging gray shards.
“Weak cloth, not mighty armor! Mighty armor, neeeeed!”
“No uniform of Falke’s could survive what yours has though, kobold. Wouldn’t this be…?”
Fish that escape the school when touching this black cross separate into pressurized pops of water from flashing-blue blade swings. Swung blades disassemble into numerous fishes when used, then rejoin the swarm around her.
“You’re using an [Aptitude] to forcibly increase its protection at the expense of durability.”
A matronly coo fits the plump feather pillow trap, one made solely for male enjoyment, that floats gently through the air hunting this kobold. Surrounded by hundreds of glowing sea creatures, Sapphira needs to slowly flap her big wings once every twenty seconds to remain aloft the currents she rides.
“That’s a curious ability, but not as interesting as the spell-reflecting cross.”
“Stop peek, fat bird!”
“No peeking needed, just a little power from up here used.” Sapphira brushes her head, grinning nicely. “I know that’s difficult for you, firebug.”
“Kol, break open, show Kol how.”
“No thanks. Let’s end this merry chase and send you home.”
Sapphira’s hordes swarm suddenly like bees, dozens striking for every two that is cracked back.
“AGAGAGAGAGAGA!?”
“Interesting limitations, it has. So long as the effect’s boundaries are small and contained…”
“HURTHURTHURTHURTTTTT!?”
The fake grass is painted black by the pops, a trail going in circles as this hunted girl desperately tries to flee the swarm.
“HAAAAAAAAH!”
For one more time, the white kobold roars!
A flaming sphere whips up into existence around her, pulling on the matron that studies the source of it. Gray whips into pudding.
“NGGGGH!? WHY, NOT FEAR KOL!?”
“… if you can’t hit the effect of the spell, you cannot reflect it. Attrition by numbers is its essential weakness.”
Sapphira doesn’t bother answering the kobold’s question, only allowing her ever-present smile to turn sinister.
“Very boring, in the end, so why fear it. I might not be very fond of most of my progeny… but nobody is permitted to punish them but me.”
“UGH!? Kol, protect…! Harm, who harm… Kol!”
The oceanic flurry that wavers within the kobold’s hungry flames reasserts with much more magical energy releasing from Sapphira’s big body to be absorbed.
And the popping impacts merely increase in regularity and severity.
“Since nobody has bothered to fix you, kobold, it seems that I shall be your mother for whatever time you have left before… all I have to suffer is your ugly statue~.”
“HATEHATEHATEHATEEEEE!”
“What I hate is the taint you spread to those wonderful children. I’m starting to worry that… this Fehr might be…?”
It’s amazing how much stamina such a small body contains after it finally releases the cross it’s been cradling. With that lost, the fish missiles can lift the kobold up and juggle her in the air.
“NAAAH!? KOL CROSS!”
Without her cross, the kobold starts trying to swat the fish with bare hands, screaming when her fingers get flayed.
“You’re pretty gutsy, kobold, I’ll give you that!”
“GRAAAAAH! KOL… NOT…! LOSE!”
“Losing isn’t important, I don’t need compensation, just — leave.”
“HAAAAH!”
“And after you’re out… we’ll see to the rest…”
Little remains of the kobold’s fiery opposition when thirty more fishes nibble, prompting Sapphira to stare up at a whipping banner of a falcon when entertainment ends.
A cruel smile becomes saddened.
“Falke, dear, why make me clean up this strange mess?
Hmm!?”
The distant matron startles when a far gateway door lurches open.
“Grandmother!? What are you…?”
“Hooh!? What are all of you doing here, I wonder?”
When dozens of Sapphira’s murder fly into the room on a huge wave of ephemeral seawater, the matron’s fish missiles cease to pummel the invader.
Hesitant to land at first, these uniform page harpies do after noticing that Kol can only twitch in pain while laying in a puddle of her own Vigor.
“This… this is the Representative’s… friend.”
“That is a unique word. I prefer, unfinished sculpture.”
Sapphira closes on the wounded girl, her fishes gaping in hunger.
“Mother! The small Representative told us not to harm her!”
“It’s odd that all nine of you are here…?”
The rest of the assembly won’t approach, but certain older harpies do.
“… Kakaka… fat bird… caught…”
“Shut up, fool!”
Immediately insulting the kobold doesn’t prevent this group from cordoning her off.
“Why are you trying to statue her, matron?”
“It’s merely sparring~.”
“First we’re told to respect the Maker’s creations and molt in frustration, then you go behind our backs to do what we wanted to do in the first place!?”
“… None of you are permitted to disobey Falke. How cute you are being, Esandra~?”
“I’m… only trying to…!”
“This disobedient, rough little spirit you girls have gotten lately is understandable after last night, but remember this:
Falke is mine. And, from him… if he wishes it, no matter how… annoying, I will continue to lend you to whatever charade keeps his interests. ”
The large woman leans forward, spreading out her wings. Whatever frustration these children gathered to vent fizzles out when they all bow, those behind them joining in.
“For I am your [empress] before being your mother. And you girls will smile beneath the veils, just in case they can see past them.
… Do we understand each other?”
“Y-Yes… mother… my empress.”
“Good! But, for this little furball…”
Fourteen little fishies swim up into a spiraling spear of water. It aims at the kobold’s black-soaked head. Quietly sniffing the air, this creature is visibly jubilant at the end that’s coming.
“I think we should say, ‘she went home early’!”
“Kakaka… fatty got caught, fatty got caught…!”
“Goodbye, meat.”
The streaking blue spear lodges violently into a wall of gray that springs up!
“Falke!?”
Sapphira screams and then traces the source of the gray distortions through the green grass all the way to the end of the proving grounds.
Up to a wall that begins to melt free to collapse.
“I see the limit of the fake Phira’s loyalty.”
“… Fehr, this is… unfortunate.”
Down from the raised tier marches the twin Representatives.
Freed from their hiding place, the familiar page harpies and the peacockatrice they serve flick off gray goop and follow.
Most curiously, normal manse automatons that lack purple to their green uniforms obediently trail them.
“Weren’t you tracking down that witch…? Why are you now choosing that form?”
“That issue has been resolved, Sapphira. Now, only one is left.”
“‘That issue’ is quickly becoming you—!”
Fehl takes up point, advancing toward Sapphira.
That the matron reacts at all toward his rapid movements, widening her eyes and drinking his adult form in while shutting up, causes him to smile at her.
“I’ve missed working with you, Sapphira. Are you ready to join our efforts again?”
“F-Fa…”
The matron catches herself before she says it.
Lost in thought, she then sags with sadness, a bitter grin shown. Wings that she lifted to embrace him are folded back.
“… You’re not him, no matter how hard you try, Fehl.”
(I… failed!)
“I’m sorry that you’ve been dragged into whatever… this ‘play’ is. Let me help you both.”
He gives ground, but then feels vibrations within.
[Cease conversing with the fake. I will handle this now.] [I can still—!] [Retrieve my first friend. You have performed beyond expectations.]
(I… I am…?)
[Thank you, Falke.]
Fehl ceases to pay Sapphira mind, even though she appears so sympathetic. Instead, he swoops in to rescue the tiny terror that’s curled up and moaning with discomfort.
He pulls his jacket off to wrap it around her. With so much of her male uniform destroyed, it is difficult not to notice her breasts straining against the tight dress shirt. Fehl has no interest in her, especially with how open her wounds are, but finds it harder to resist the growing emotional storm that vibrates around his core and is beginning to replace his own feelings with attraction.
(Surprisingly light for how vicious she is.)
[SHE IS PRECIOUS. BE VERY, VERY CAREFUL WITH HER.]
“Huh… became… ‘Bird’! Hunk… Bird…?”
“Spit out the Vigor and rest.”
“Gah, Kol, fine, ignore! Help, ‘Huge Cute’…”
With Kol out of their way, the harpies gather closer.
Now that they can see Fehr with attention to detail, many gasp at the emblem she wears on her dress.
(Recognition means reality… Fehr is…!)
“Fehr, dear, I think it’s time we had a talk with Falke personally about… certain events.” Sapphira moves away from her curious progeny. “Privately. I’ll be happy to fix up the kobold to peak annoyance, too.”
“How ‘kind’ you are to offer.”
[WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT PERMIT THIS ONE TO CONTACT FALKE.]
(I know that!)
[DO YOU ALSO KNOW THAT SHE’S BEEN ATTEMPTING TO ADDLE YOUR SISTER’S MIND?](… She has?)
Fehl reaches out to feel for any changes, but can only notice that the matron’s red eyes sometimes glint. Fehr does not react in any way though.
(But, that should trigger a struggle if—!?)
[THIS ONE IS TRAINED AS AN ASSASSIN.]
“Mistress, be wary of tricks.”
Fehl sets his baggage down, then gets to the back of his sister. His hard stare unnerves Sapphira enough to quit her covert attempts.
[Tricks are the fake Phira’s favorites. Ignore it and watch me. I will end this now.]
“No traitors are permitted to leave.”
All gateways in the proving grounds grind to a close at once, their destination phrases flattening into their plates.
Fehl’s body heat rises with the changes that flow over the surfaces and ripple through the grasses.
The banners hanging from pillars all morph to a jackdaw grasping a violin.
“How did this servant do that!?”
“Only the Maker changes the manse like this!”
Harpies without knowledge of Fehr’s true nature or don’t recall meeting her as a child scream out. Unrest spreads through the youngest among them.
[Introduce me.] [At once.]
“Unnatural Protean Manse, place of inheritance for the Kestner heir, all loyal servants will now come to attention.”
Mute this whole time, the three harem harpies and Kaskin join with the changed lesser servants to bow toward Fehr.
When these four show deference to Fehr, the assembly shuts up completely.
“Inheritress of the Kestners, finest creation of the Maker, all hear her name and pledge obedience.”
Still in a standoff with Sapphira, Fehr grins imperiously at the matron when Fehl swings his arm to indicate who that heir is.
“Our Owner.”
An electric sense of quiet lingers after, a million questions from the harpies desiring to flood forth.
Only one voice dares to whisper.
“You aren’t her.”
Sapphira has only a sad expression, but her red eyes burn with anger. Only she knows what will shortly be revealed.
[She has to be—!] [The moment is coming. Watch.]
“Kol, bullshit!”
The second interruption is the wounded kobold screaming from the ground. Struggling to rise, she shakes her head and points at Fehr.
“Graah, AH, Moon, up!” Frustrating enthusiasm steals the girl’s words, but she stops stomping long enough to utter some intelligible ones. “Old Bird, say, Kol’s Moon, in charge! KAKAKA! Huge Cute can’t be charge, ‘cause Moon, ‘za greatest’!”
(How can you stand!?)
“Dumb birds, Kol, already run things! Moon, go up with Old Bird, take over, tonight!”
Vitality beyond normal capacity drives Kol’s cackling dance.
“Agahri, na…? ‘Again’! Again, Kol gets to see, dumb-dumbs lose! KAKAKAKA!”
The assembled harpy murder screeches at the top of their lungs at the kobold’s utterances
“What is that evil tunnel dog saying!?”
“Did the Maker lose his mind!?”
“Matron! Why didn’t you say anything about this earlier!?”
Sapphira’s daughters, especially, crowd their mother. Very composed as usual, Sapphira sighs with the look of a parent having a severe headache.
“Girls, girls, girls, I am dealing with this issue. Do not make a huge deal about small things!”
With her distracted…
[Get my friend’s attention and explain why the contraption is an inferior choice compared to serving… me.] [You want this kobold to serve you!? Hah, very well, sister.]
(Then… what do I do!?)
[PAY CLOSE ATTENTION.]
The voice speaks of knights, of delusions of power that come from service as one.
Of authority and protection eternal for others through cowing them into submission.
Of a world that bows to her every whim because she is right…!
(That’s just a tyrannical bully!)
[YES, ONE WHO IS VERY EASY TO PLEASE. JUST MAKE HER A KNIGHT.](Oh…?)
“… Kakakaka, Kol, allow, Huge Cute, live with Kol, gray mansion, enjoy hugging…! Kol will—!”
“This ‘Moon’ of yours cannot grant your heart’s desire, even if she claims this manse, Kol.”
“Hah, Kol, not believe!”
The irate girl reacts only to him with attention after he shifts his stance and firms up his projected image to more closely align with the Maker. A knowing smirk sends her over the edge.
“NAH!? TRUE!? WHY!?”
“Because, she, unlike my Mistress, is not the scion whose bestowed titles of fealty will be recognized everywhere as valid.”
“FUCK, ‘FEALTY’!? HUH!?”
(Does this creature not understand Castilian?)
[SHE UNDERSTANDS VERY LITTLE. SPEAK PLAINLY.]
“Only my Mistress can make others a knight. This Moon cannot.”
“… Huh?”
“But… if what you desire is to be a knight, then being one is easy: offer yourself to her.”
Fehl points to Fehr, who stands proudly with her arms crossed.
Finally deigning to look down at her “friend” with the same arrogance this friend probably taught her earlier while “playing”.
“All it takes is to serve her, and you’ll be one in seconds.”
Kol rips free of him, tearing toward Fehr.
Only four feet high and some inches, the bloody kobold resembles a child ungainly bowing to a teacher.
“KOL, VERY MUCH WANTS TO BE A KNIGHT.”
“… Then swear that you will serve no other than me, and only me.”
“KOL, SWE—!
AGAGAGAGAGA!?”
The wailing kobold grips her head in pain, grinding her sharp teeth and hissing after finishing her painful cackle.
Fehr finally seems concerned, patting the kobold’s head.
“What’s… what’s wrong?”
“… W-W-W-Why… Huge Cute… want… Kol… as a knight? To serve? What reason? How… Huge Cute… ‘benefit’?”
[THIS ENORMOUS IDIOT REMEMBERED, I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!]
(Why?)
“I want… that you should be at my side, Kol.” Put out by such a fierce question, Fehr turns away. But, she also takes up Kol’s furry hand and squeezes. “… I have no other reason than this one. If you are my knight… you can remain my close friend. None will protest…”
“Friend? Stay? OKAY, GOOD, GREAT REASON!”
The kobold immediately tries to kneel, but then grips her head again and wails.
“NAAAAAAAAH!”
“What is wrong!?”
Fresh black Vigor drips down Kol’s lips. Her pink eyes twitch in rage.
“… Kol… already… swore… ‘self’… to others… today! Can’t… swear to Huge Cute, anymore…!?
SHIT, FUCK, HATEBOSSHATEBOSS, AAAAGRAH!”
The irate kobold cries in frustration, pounding the ground before rolling around and kicking like a toddler.
[Why is she going berserk, Falke!?]
(Why is she going berserk, Voice!?)
That dark presence laughs uproariously, smugger now than even when speaking of the witch.
[SHE MADE A PROMISE AND IS FORCED TO KEEP IT. FEHR CANNOT BE “FIRST” FOR KOL, ANYMORE! SHE MUST VALUE OTHERS HIGHER OR LOSE HER HONOR.]
[The kobold has sworn primacy of service to others! She cannot agree to be your knight if it means obeying you before them!] [What a foolish issue…]
“Calm down! Swearing to me, you don’t have to prize me ‘first’ in your heart!”
“Huh!?”
Unlike the figure from the portrait, this Dohle is warm with her offer of meeting partway.
“Kol, so long as you serve me when not serving them, I shall be glad to have you as my knight.”
“DEAL!”
The kobold plants her forehead into the ground, the deepest kneel imaginable.
“KOL, SWEAR, OBEY HUGE CUTE WHEN NOT SAVING OTHERS, EVERY DAY, EVERY TURN! FOREVER!”
“… I accept you into my service, and grant you peerage. By your fealty, be my blade against othe—”
“REFUSE!”
Again, black Vigor drips from the kobold’s savage lips.
“KOL, HATE SHITTY ‘SWORD’, MOST! AXE, BETTER!”
“… Haha… then, be my axe against others, and let your body be my shield! But, also try to calm down a little, okay?”
Fehr laughs and rubs Kol’s ears, enjoying the feeling of her hair and fur.
“KAKAKA! SWORD BIRD, KOL, KNIGHT NOW!”
“This… artless tramp will be a knight? I suppose our lives must taste sour on occasion.” Only Kaskin bothers to acknowledge this, for his harem only look sick about it.
“What is this idiocy, children?”
Sapphira intrudes in their impromptu ceremony, followed by a horde of harpies who still scream about “a Maker gone mad”.
[And now, my first friend will earn her worth.]
Ignoring Sapphira, Fehr’s countenance turns imperceptibly stern.
“Now, Kol, as your first act as my knight…”
“KAKAKAKA! KNIGHT KOL, KNIGHT KOL! TELL KNIGHT KOL, DO ANYTHING!”
The strange child, so hyped up that she licks Fehr’s hand before it’s stolen away, bows awkwardly.
“To my servant page harpies that you viciously attacked, you will now apologize from the bottom of your heart.”
“… Say, what?”
The new knight stares at her master with unconcealed disgust. A total mental inversion drives the heat haze that lifts from a battered body.
“Kol? ‘Apologize’? Winning, for? HAH!?”
“Winning? The duties of a knight, do they allow for a retainer to harm the property of the master?”
“… Um… Moon probably say, ‘no’?”
Thought is terribly hard for this pathetic kobold, but something dawns within its cracked mind.
“… Birds… belong… to Huge Cute…?
… Kol… cook birds…?”
“An attack upon them is the same as attacking me, Kol.”
The true spirit of Dohle stirs to life within Fehl’s sister. An unforgiving wraith, colder than life allows, touches the kobold’s cheek and causes the fearless tramp to jolt.
“Do you dare to attack your master without apologizing?”
“Nah… ah… true, Kol, bad…”
This new knight mechanically nods in understanding, eyes locked ahead without really seeing anything.
She turns toward the harpies and marches forward.
“… All… All big booty black birds… lushin, gah, ‘listen’, Kol!”
After her howl, the screaming birds shut up and stare back with natural hatred exuding from them.
Even Sapphira wrinkles her nose at being forced to be nearby.
“Kol… Kol…
Kol… really… for big burning thing… try to do art…”
Supremely monotonous in tone, the kobold’s face twists. Muscles are tight like she’s trying to expel an enormous turd.
“Kol is very… sooooooorrrryyyyyy…”
This pint-sized puncher’s eyes are dead by the completion of the needed word.
A quick bow caps off the apology, then the spirit-drained critter stumbles away.
[COME TO THINK OF IT, HAS SHE EVER APOLOGIZED TO ME BEFORE AND REALLY MEANT IT?]
“Did… did the pyro dog just apologize?”
One page harpy breaks ranks, asking the question the rest are pondering.
“She just gave up!? After spending that time insulting us this morning!?”
“That evil invader apologized because the new head commanded her to!”
A chatter begins after that can’t stop commenting on Fehr’s particulars, from her beautiful dress to the way her hair tufts up like their feathered wings.
[Thank you, my friend, for being the first of my sacrifices for the manse.] [I see, how intelligent, sister!] [Dohle! Remember, please, my Falke…]
“TSK!” Kol breaks into a run and hocks a huge amount of black spit at a wall when she notices the harpies cheering.
“Stupid birds!”
She spits several more times, her cheeks burning mad. When the spitting doesn’t relieve her anger…
“THIS, BOSS’ FAULT, ALWAYS BOSS’ FAULT! GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Kol turns and begins wailing on a huge pillar with her bare hands, tiny cracks forming where she strikes.
Fehr walks back to her group of attaches, climbing up the steps they descended to be seen more clearly by all.
“It has been quite a long time, but nine will remember me when the rest will not, for we alone shared those years together long ago.”
The harpies shuffle away from who these “nine” must be, with Sapphira’s actual daughters studying Fehr. Their hidden excitement is something Fehl can interpret.
“You are not her!”
“Esandra. Wyra, Idina…”
Sapphira’s cry is meaningless when Fehr begins to list names, all nine of them. Each one pushes forward, eager to be a part of the naming.
“… and Pinna, all of you are true retainers of the original holy palace in the east. Driven to Castile by the Pillars of Zenith, you followed out of a fine sense of duty.”
Fehr chooses this moment to pull her white mask free, casting it to clatter across the crystalline ground before it melts into it.
Sapphira’s daughters gasp in unison.
“All of you will recall who I am without failure.”
“You cannot know their names, though, unless…? But that’s impossible…”
One of the harpies stumbles forward, wings outstretched toward Fehr before the muttering Sapphira can step in to block.
“Mistress Dohle!? It’s really you!?”
“Here to right everything that has gone wrong in my absence.”
Their cries rouse a burning excitement, a curiosity in the murder of harpies that causes a stampede of them to surround Fehr. Some even take flight, soaring on sea spray to look upon her shining glory from up high.
“I am Dohle Kestner, and this is a new age for my family.”
“Dohle died fifty two years ago.”
Smaller birds flee from the path of the biggest, for Sapphira openly struts forward to challenge the claim made.
“You cannot be her.”
“I am not the Dohle of that time, this is true. Instead, I am…”
Fehl’s hand is entwined with hers, held up so that all present can see mistress and butler unite.
“No, we are Dohle and Falke. Everything that went wrong for the Maker, we will correct… by succeeding his failures and curing the madness afflicting him. We are his finally arrived at perfect creations, containing the true souls of these names that will rebuild this family.”
[Tell them it will be fine! Show them that we’re enough, Falke!] [Of course!]
Fehr’s cry across their link isn’t born of fear, but a need to provide the legitimacy that this crowd needs.
He sends out his own signal toward what he knows will be the correct receiving frequency.
(I understand how they all work, because the Maker once saw to their service, too!)
“As her faithful servant, I return all that I have made to Dohle’s service. And, I call for the Regalia to be as reborn as we are!”
A screeching sound from one of the proving ground’s walled corners signifies the rebirth of this guardian.
Earthen power flows over the pseudoprósōpon structure, rushing to escape with so much of it activated.
The harpies shake with the quaking steps of the metallic and stone beast that rounds the opening in the workshop area. Smaller than its cousins built for war, this slender personal defense unit is only four times as tall as the average man.
Unpainted metal covers where repairs were made to its mechanical sections and spark as it lumbers forth, but none present can deny the supreme holy dignity of what empowers this Regalia shaped like an armored man-at-arms.
(Where did Fehr find a power source of this magnitude, when all that exists is the orange tree that grounds the manse to the cliff of the Alchemaster!?)
“Aailve, anistidae ain gorand~…”
A saccharin voice booms from the Regalia’s glowing frame, sweet but also strangely lifeless-sounding.
Pure earth energy tickles Fehl’s core with its words that he cannot in the least comprehend, for they are so musically inclined that the syllables flow too easily.
(Why is the Regalia talking?)
[IF YOU ENJOY BEING SHUT UP INSIDE IT IN THE DARK SO MUCH, MAYBE I SHOULD SELL YOU TO LYCIA AS ITS PERMANENT CORE?] The dark voice sounds pensive, but then retorts itself. [I’D MISS HER TOO MUCH, WOULDN’T I? HAH, FEEL “LUCKY” THAT I LIKE YOU SO MUCH, AVE.](I’m beginning to believe that nobody feels fortunate to be related to you, oh Voice.)
“Ulirestai doseur? Hahaha!”
A wicked scimitar, just a solid piece of steel-edged iron, is what the girly-laughing Regalia hauls up to hold in salute to Fehr.
“I’ve never seen one move!”
“They haven’t worked since years before we abandoned the palace.”
“Then, then she’s really…!?”
A shock of victory rings through the crowd, a frenzy of hope lifting usually dour and emotionless harpies who never allow themselves to be noticed or acknowledged.
“You are not Dohle, nor are you Falke. Only misguided children caught in a play that old goat has set in motion.”
Flowing water cascades around Sapphira. Black wings lift and flutter with the building power she summons.
Red eyes, glowing like rubies in the night, are sick with disgrace at this scene.
“I am tired of this script. Maybe I will finally punish him for his extravagances?”
“You can try, fake Phira, but first you have to be punished for yours.”
Dohle Kestner lifts her arm, pointing at the one woman that should be closest to her in all ways if that portrait and Sapphira’s emotional recollections of the past are correct.
Fehl’s sister summons up as much direct support from the manse’s reservoirs as she can, several unseen barriers forming beneath the ground to rise up when needed.
“You are a traitor to my name.”
“… How… dare you?”
Fehl flinches when the pressures within his core’s chambers briefly destabilize.
(Archmagi-tier presence!)
A rumbling bubble pushes out from Sapphira, knocking her progeny far from her without harm!
“KYAA!?”
Even direct daughters flee this matron’s angry territory when arriving waters coalesce to hang freely around Sapphira, sparkling like saws of diamond.
“My vacation is over.
And our play date is through.”
More than little fishies, shark-teethed wraiths churn within her killing zone. They all serve this page harpy empress whose lethal intentions cannot be felt, with how tightly she keeps her emotions constrained to her large bosom.
“From hereon, ignorant child, you speak only with Sapphira, ‘Beloved of Dohle’, the most faithful friend she ever owned.”