A/N: 500. Here we go, as promised.
Waver immediately took to deciphering the contents of Geryon Ashborn's journal as I stepped past him, the bloody mess that was Orlocke. My first thoughts? This wasn't the work of that thing, no matter how similar it was made to look.
It was too deliberate. Too nasty. Too desperate.
My eyes wandered across the scene again.
Anyone with a lick of common sense could tell this sort of damage was most definitely not the work of a wild animal.
Holding my nose, I stepped up through the wet blood on the floor, over to the torso lying on the bed, over sheets stained red, and gave it a once-over. It was disgusting as fuck, but honestly, I wasn't all that bothered at this point. This type of stuff was natural for the world we were in.
There were stab wounds on his torso that were the result of hard, rough love made to it with the business end of a dagger or a knife. His limbs had been messily sliced off, not torn off with claws or fangs or brute force. Then, there was the somber expression on his face. That wasn't the look of a man getting attacked by an animal.
Hell, he looked sad and defeated, on the verge of tears even.
Now, I was no detective, but you didn't have that kind of expression if the person attacking you was one you thought of as an enemy.
Involuntarily, I glanced at Waver.
They were getting close these past few days, yeah?
I disregarded the thought immediately. The Professor was always prickly, seemingly annoyed with everything, but he was a big sweetie underneath, a pineapple. There was no way in hell he would kill someone like this.
Suddenly Waver spoke up, "Lord Caesermund confided in me over a bottle of whiskey last night."
...
"You have GOT to know how weird that sounds."
"It doesn't. You children these days always assume something has to be weird. Do I call you out for playing around with Flat and Svin?" He calmly rebuked, pulling a cigar from his coat and lighting it with a match like some kind of noir detective from a 70s action flick. "Well, where was I? Right. Apparently, he... he helped Lord Ashborn perfect his methods."
"So they were often working late into the night? Locked up in a room together? All alone?"
"...Stop that." He furrowed his brows as I snorted. "But, you're not that far off from the truth. It seems the Lady Ashborn, Irene, and Lord Orlocke were lovers or some such in the past."
My eyes widened. I always thought the typical magi wasn't even capable of such a thing as love or care for another individual, and I was almost always right with that assumption too. Hearing about old flings among these obsessive and narcissistic lot came as a proper shock.
"The time spent here..." Holding the journal in one hand, he inhaled deeply from his cigar, and blew out a small cloud of smoke. "Well, it re-ignited those old passions. He well and truly loved that woman. The result was Glannid Ashborn, the dead son. Geryon remained oblivious to this, and in his love for his son, chose to ignore that he was impotent."
"Is that the kind of info you should be sharing, professor?" I murmured in awe.
This information was rather troubling to process.
"It doesn't matter." He just shrugged, tapping a finger against his cigar, "Do you see what I'm getting at here? Lord Geryon Ashborn was found dead. According to this journal, the last person to see him was Orlocke."
Wait a second.
If Orlocke was actually in love with the Lady Irene and fathered a son through adultery, then found out that Geryon used their remains for materials once they both died... holy shit.
"Orlocke killed him."
The Professor only nodded before raising head to stare out at the setting Sun.
"I had my suspicions after how he reacted to Ashborn's beast but now... A crime of passion, huh?"
I dumbly stared at the corpse of the old bag of bones. Something like this should've not been surprising in the least, but it was. The involved parties were all magi. In our world, something like this was terribly absurd.
Geryon using his son and wife as materials? That was obvious, expected. Hell, according to his journal, it was the highest expression of love from him to not let his beloved go to waste.
Orlocke killing Geryon cause he loved the two and wasn't able to bear the desecration of the dead? Absolutely fucking bonkers. Never could've seen it coming.
"Professor... you're smart, huh?"
"As it happens, I am one of the twelve lords."
"Oh yeah I forgot."
"That's not the type of thing you're supposed to forget!" Waver raised an empty hand, forgetting that this was not the classroom and he did not have his almighty judgement, the duster.
"Haha, getting senile now?"
He used Projection to make one and lop it at my forehead.
"Motherfuc-"
With a long sigh, Waver composed himself again, fixing his jet black coat. Then, he put his cigar to his lips again and held up the journal.
I instantly caught what he was trying to point out... in fact, it was the same name I pointed out to Luviagelita.
"Did you see this?"
"Jiroubou."
"Yes. Jiroubou Tokitou Seigen. He was implanted with Glannid's remains immediately after the boy's death."
I scratched the back of my head. I knew he was involved here somehow... but I wasn't knowledgeable enough to figure out just what that meant.
Waver noticed my confusion, "Look. The integral word in use here is preservation. He says he preserved his son, not 'used', not to 'repair', but instead, with Jiroubou. Preserved with Jiroubou. Do I really have to spell it out for you? Think about it. This is a lineage focused on researching magic crests, and using those of others as material. Now think about the individuals here."
I once again eyed the mangled corpse, or rather, the distinct lack of mana involved in murder. The murder of a Brand ranked magus.
"Edelfelt. Caesermund. Istari. El-Melloi. I suppose it is a stroke of good fortune that my sister sent me here in her stead. This way our Crest isn't in danger."
I earnestly considered his words.
Through his will, Geryon had gathered ancient, exceptional lineages here, and the only people invited were those that held their family's Magic Crests, and then invited someone like Jiroubou from a nation the Clock Tower considered barbaric... Someone who had nothing going for him except for the fact that he was used to preserve Glannid Ashborn.
Suddenly, it clicked.
"That's not Jiroubou, is it? Or rather, Jiroubou's a vessel? This is some Sukuna type shit."
"We might just be caught up in a father readying a good inheritance for his beloved son."
Man... honestly, except for the fact that we were all technically scapegoats for his scheme, I kind of felt bad for Geryon. His beloved wife cheated, and the guy didn't even know the son he cherished to the point of setting this whole thing up for was one born cause his wife cheated on him with a fucking fossil of all things.
I took one final look at Orlocke, and found no sympathy for him in my heart. Both him and Geryon were fucked up people.
Running a hand through my air, I turned to leave.
"The way he died, it seems like a passionate revenge, doesn't it?" Waver said quietly. "It's unfortunate... and ironic. The son he murdered someone for might be the son that killed him."
The insane nature of the situation aside, Waver was way too quick to put everything that happened together. It just made me respect him even more. Still planned on getting payback for the attempted cockblocking though.
"Truly a loss."
Genuine regret and loss was writ across my Professor's face.
"For such exceptional magi to be lost this way."
Okay, nevermind, he was just sad because he was a nerd that wanted to know what they did and now couldn't.
"I plan on confronting the person I think is to blame for this tonight, outside the castle. There is a decent chance that beast will interrupt, and this castle works to its advantage."
Duh.
It was the familiar of this workshop's owner, no shit it was stronger inside than outside.
-
"How's that shoulder?"
I plopped down on the chair next to Heine as a maid delicately placed down my cup of milk tea, a bowl of sugar, and a small silver spoon before bowing and taking her leave. Flueger sat across from him, and was too busy stuffing his face to even pay attention.
The creepy-shit angels staring at you all the time aside, the services were top-notch, and the cooks made the kind of food I'd ditch everything for if I was a poor brokie. But I wasn't, I owned a business valued in the billions. No, it wasn't important that Luvia could've easily skimped me out on said ownership if she so wanted... okay, maybe it was. But she was mine and I was hers, so it didn't matter.
My random train of thoughts was interrupted when Heine answered my question by putting a hand on his forearm and moving the shoulder at the joint.
"I have some faint pains but nothing truly serious. I thank you for your help, once again."
"No worries, you're my bro."
Confusion flashed in the knight's eyes as he just so slightly tilted his head but then he just nodded. "Very well, I shall think of you as a... bro? As well."
Nice.
"That thing attacked me and Luviagelita too by the way." I shared, sipping my tea. "Managed to beat it back though."
"I was certain you could after that last confrontation. While I possess somewhat adequate defense, combating its speed proved to be troublesome."
This was just how he talked, wasn't it? It felt so... so... rich and noble and stuff, even Luviagelita wasn't this bad when she was in her noble lady mode.
"No, I overestimate myself. My armour was clearly pierced. If you hadn't interfered, I would have surely died then and there."
I stared past him, at the little blonde girl sitting on his other side. "Don't say something like that in front of your little sister."
"She knows the truth of it... and she is grateful." He turned to look at her.
Rosalind Istari gave me a shy nod. "T...Thank you. For helping my... brother."
"I must thank Jiroubou too, for protecting her in the meantime."
"Say, was he with you like an hour ago?"
Rosalind shook her little head from side to side.
"No." Heine confirmed.
Geh... That all but confirmed Waver's theory. Oh well. There was nothing to be done except confront him outright anymore.
"About that shoulder pain sir knight, I have this balm." Flueger suddenly spoke up, wiping his face. "Put it on at night and you'll be good to go-..."
I perked up. "Is it made from animal shit?"
"No? Why would it be?"
"Insects?"
"Huh. How'd you know? I thought you Clock Tower magi were too uppity for this... Oh wait." He noticed the grin on my face. "You're making fun of me, aren't you? I'll have you know insects and herbs have exceptional medicinal properties-"
"Yeah... I think I'll stick to my tablets and syrups."
"The very same." Heine agreed with a small nod.
The muscle maniac just huffed, "Have it your way. I was just trying to help."
-
Hope you enjoyed. Please share any ideas or suggestions you might have. I'll even take thoughts.
For those of you who are a bit confused by what they were discussing, it's intentional. It'll be made clear soon enough.