The men in suits went around Vincent and his company. They pulled out guns from their coats and pointed them at the University students. Sebastian calmly raised his hands while Johan and Margarette stood their ground, eyeing the waiters as more filed into the room.
Dorin stepped towards Benson.
"Halt." The valet warned them. "You are an outsider. You have nothing to do with this."
"You call this, 'nothing to do'?" Johan raged at him.
"And you?" Dorin asked calmly.
"I am a servant of the Morel house," replied Benson. "I am merely serving my master."
Just then, the middle of the room darkened. The center of the domed ceiling cracked. A dark apparition descended from it. A creature resembling a horse with three heads, its eyes flaming, the massive body of a bull with six taloned feet of a tiger and ended with the tail of a scorpion. It ran on a cloud of miasma and landed on the ground, its claws scratching the white marble floor.
Benson visibly flinched.
On top of the creature sat a man with skin dark as midnight. His black hair had wisps of gray that fell down to his waist in curls. The only color on his face were his yellow hawk eyes and his sharp white teeth as he grinned at the sight of his lost son.
"Vincent." He called to the tall young man. "So it is true that you have returned."
Vincent stayed rooted where he stood. "Father," he finally uttered. "What happened to your hair?"
The Morel patriarch threw back his head as he laughed. It sounded like the earth was rumbling underneath their feet. "I should ask the same about you," replied his father. "Where have you been all these years?"
"I was just home yesterday..." Vincent started, then paused. "They say I've been gone for a long time..." he continued, "that I even died..." he looked at their host, at Octavius, then at his father who have all changed so much. "I remember mother fixing breakfast... brother Octavius was just a brat in the nursery... you haven't returned from your post during the celebration for the Emperor's 30th year of rule... brother Brodie promised to send me off to the university the next day, and I was making sure I had everything I needed inside my bag..."
"That was roughly 22 years in the past, Vincent," rumbled his father's voice, "Do you remember what happened in between?"
Vincent stared at his father. "What happened...?" he asked himself, "I was just at home... and fell asleep..." he looked at Dorin once more. "Ray, what happened in all those 22 years?" he asked.
"I don't know, Vincent," Dorin replied. "I'm not Ray."
"No..." Vincent said in a low voice. "I do not know..." he lifted his hands and touched his face, pulling clumps of his curly white hair. "I do not know...."
"That is enough," his father spoke up. "Come. Let us go home. Everything will be better then." He walked towards his son and placed a taloned hand on his shoulder. "Your mother is waiting for you."
"No." Vincent suddenly replied.
His head faced his father in a strange angle, his bones creaking. His neck lengthened and his back curved, sending his shoulder blades further apart as a long length of bone broke out of his skin and grew a web like membrane, turning into leathery wings.
"I don't know," he mumbled once more. "I don't want to know."
"Vincent, calm down," commanded his father. "Listen to me–"
"No, I will not listen to you!" hissed Vincent, his jaw jutting out, growing longer. "All you say is that I have gone crazy, that I need help, that I must go home and get treated," he snarled, "but I am here now, and I am with Ray, and that is all that matters to me!" he insisted. "I care not what day it is, or where I am or what happened in between. All I know is that I am here, now, with Yyldirim, and that is all that matters to me!"
With a mighty flap of his newly acquired leather wings, Vincent raised himself into the air and glared at his father. The old Morel patriarch raised a hand. From the opened portal in the ceiling, a massive hand shaped out of miasma reached out to Vincent, gripping him, slamming him to the facing wall.
"Do not make me hurt you, Vincent," his father called out to him. "I will not hesitate to do everything in my power to get you back home with me."
"Then neither will I," replied his seventh son.
Vincent tore his clothes and exposed his body where a small black sun was tattooed in the middle of his chest. He plunged his hands into his flesh and was about to pull them apart when a bright strike of lightning hit him and lighted up the whole room.
Everyone was surprised as Vincent was swallowed by the light, strutting as the vast amount of electricity coursed through his body and flowed back down towards Dorin. When the lightning left him, Vincent's body was back to normal once more, and fell unceremoniously to the floor.
"Like I said," said Dorin, his body absorbing the rest of the electricity back. "I am not Ray."
"You..." the old Morel looked speechless.
"Sorry about that," Dorin said with a little bow. "We really don't know what happened, and neither do we wish to be tied up in your little family feud." He went to Sebastian and Johan and signaled them to follow him. "Don't worry, we won't tell anyone about this incident, if you do the same," he said with a grin. "We really can't afford to get into any more trouble, you see."
"That's right, Master Morel, we'll be on our way now," Margarette said with a respectful bow.
Johan went after them, pulling Bennette along the way. Sebastian simply followed them towards the exit. [Thanks for the meal] he wrote as they passed Benson.
The five friends were almost through the doorway, the waiters clearing the way, when the old Morel spoke up once more.
"Wait," he called, Vincent's limp body cradled in his arms.
The men in suits aimed their guns at them once more.
"I did not say you could leave."
"Haa, I knew it was too good to be true," Johan said in an undertone.
"You take care of the metal," Dorin whispered to him. He stood in front of his friends and gave a sharp tune, creating a vortex in the middle of the room. As he did, all the men in suits suddenly dropped their weapons. The metal glowed red and melted on the floor.
"The vortex, Johan," Dorin called.
"Roger!" replied Johan, setting the vortex on fire. The three-headed horse reared in the air and ran wild in the room, trampling some of the men in suits. The pillar of fire burned and ate its way through the ceiling, melting the dome like it was merely made of wax.
The old Morel looked furious. He shouted a word and opened a portal that sucked the pillar of fire.
"Johan," Sebastian whispered, holding on to his arm and Dorin's hand on the other. "Remember the white flame?"
"Roger," Johan replied. He took a deep breath as he remembered the white fire that did not burn.
The bright Holy Light enveloped the five companions.
"Direct the flame as a sword and send it to the Morel head!" instructed Sebastian.
Johan hardened the flame, once more calling ore from the surrounding and using it as a core. He then took hold of the flaming white sword and threw it straight at the old Morel head who caught it in mid-air.
"Holy Fire?!" the Morel head thought incredulously, his palm blistering. "Impossible! The last of the White Magi died decades ago!"
"Let us go," Dorin said. "We will not hesitate to fight you if you force us."
The old Morel looked at them and laughed. "I do not wish to fight." he finally answered. "But after seeing all these..."
"We told you, we won't tell anybody."
"Be that as it may, we can't just let you go... you... are Ray, correct?"
"I'm not Ray." Dorin sounded irritated.
"Well, at least, I want to know who my son's acquaintances are!" the old Morel's voice rumbled. "Tell me, who are these people who have subdued my Vincent?"
Johan lowered his guard. Finally, Dorin let go his companions and gave a deep sigh. "Will you give your word that you would let us leave, after we tell you our names?"
"I swear it in my honour," the other replied. "Now tell me, which noble houses are you from?"
The three looked at each other.
"We're just commoners," Dorin spoke up. The elder Morel's eyes grew wide. "I am Dorin Silvius from Monarch forest," he faced his companions. "These are Sebastian Revious and Johan Ignasius," a mumble could be heard across the room at the mention of the name 'Ignasius'. "He's from the old mines, near the border... he's a scholarship student," he explained, "we all are." he then looked back at the rest of his friends. "The others are Margarette Gunnar and Bennette." he added, "They're from the millitary division."
"Actually, it's Patrice... Bennette..." the medic said, his timid voice trailing off.
"You say you are all commoners?" the old Morel said thoughfully, "Ignasuis is a well known title in the capital, and the Benettes are known military families, yet I saw how he has healed my youngest son. Aside from that, I don't think I know of your names..."
"Well, the Gunnars are after all, a newly formed family branch..." mumbled Margarette, sounding disappointed.
"Like we said, we're just common folk..." Johan said, "Now, can we please leave?"
The old Morel stared at them, his hawk eyes piercing. "I am, as you know, the head of the Morel family," he harrumphed. "I am Vladimir Mikhail Romulus Morel, and I always keep my word."
[Actually, we didn't know that.] wrote Sebastian. Good thing the old Morel did not see it.
"As of this day, the five of you shall be under my favor." He raised his hand upon saying this, showing their family's signet ring.
"Um... You don't really need to do that..." Dorin began.
"I think he wants us to kiss his ring," whispered Bennette.
"No way, man," mumbled Johan.
[Let's just thank him]
"Yes, sir, Master Morel, thank you..." Dorin said with another slight bow. His friends did the same.
"Now, we really should be going, we still have classes tomorrow, after all," said Margarette with her head still bowed.
"Yes, of course, classes start tomorrow..." the old Morel paused. "Tell me, what year are you in?" he asked, looking at Dorin.
"Johan and I are first years," Dorin answered, "Sebastian is a second year, we're all in the Special Class Sphere ."
"They re-opened the Special Class Spheres?" Vladimir Morel looked surprised. "Is that where you learned how to use the Holy Flame?"
"Um... we're just first years, so..." Johan started. "I just saw it today... with Sebastian's help..."
Vladimir suddenly looked at Sebastian with new found interest.
"We really should be leaving now..." Dorin repeated.
"Yes, of course," answered the old Morel with a slight grin. "I thank you all for assisting us with my sons, and apologize for the trouble they brought." He gave them a deep bow. The people in the restaurant did the same. "If there is anything I can assist you with, please do not hesitate to contact me." Upon saying this, Monsieur Benson handed them a black card. "You may now leave."
The students gave a deep sigh of relief as they turned to leave. But Johan looked back and called the old head's attention.
"What about Vincent?" he asked. "Will he be okay?"
The Morel patriarch gave him another slight grin, showing his sharp teeth. "He will be just fine," he replied. "Fourteen years is a very long time to be away. We will have a lot of 'catching up' to do."