Luthiel left Grub's room without a word.
The door shut behind her with a soft click, and the quiet of the hallway wrapped around her immediately, pressing in from all sides as it sent shivers down her spine. For a moment, she stood there, still and unmoving, her button-like gaze lingering on the closed door as if expecting it to open again. It didn't. After a few seconds, she turned and began walking, her steps light and measured as she made her way out of the inn and into the cool night air.
The village had settled into a quiet rhythm. Several noises harmonized together, distant voices, faint laughter, the occasional clink of a blacksmith doing overtime, or the huffs and puffs of someone working hard on their farm—all of it blended into a soft hum of life that never truly stopped. Luthiel passed through it without interacting, her presence gentle, almost unnoticeable, as she made her way toward the largest structure in the village.
The chief's house. She opened the door and entered without hesitation.
Inside, the air was warmer and filled with the unmistakable scent of alcohol. Morrigan was sprawled across a couch, one leg thrown lazily over the armrest, a large wooden bowl in her hand as she drank greedily from it. Her posture was completely unrestrained, as if the concept of formality simply did not apply to her.
Luthiel approached quietly before stopping a few steps away and giving a deep bow.
"I have arrived, Master Morrigan."
Morrigan paused mid-drink, lowering the bowl slowly as she turned her head toward Luthiel. For a brief second, she just stared. Then she let out a long, exaggerated sigh.
"Ehh… I told ya to stop callin' me that, ya adorable fucker. There's no need for such formalities."
Luthiel lowered herself further, her posture becoming even more formal.
"No, Master. For what you did for me, I owe you an unpayable debt. Your wish will always be my command. I will serve you forever."
She rose smoothly from the bow, giving a small, precise curtsey before stepping closer and stopping at Morrigan's side, her arms folding neatly across her chest.
Morrigan clicked her tongue and leaned back again, clearly annoyed, though there was no real heat behind it.
"Yeah, yeah. Do whatever ya want," she muttered before tilting her head slightly. "So… did ya show that strange-lookin' Sky-Fallen boy around? What'd ya get from that fucker while showin' him off?"
She drained the rest of her drink in one go and extended the empty bowl without even looking.
Luthiel immediately stepped forward, taking the bowl and refilling it with steady, practiced hands before placing it back into Morrigan's grip.
"He seemed… well mannered," Luthiel said carefully. "He did not seem to enjoy conversation very much, and he appears to have a staring problem… but he seemed nice."
There was a brief pause.
"I was surprised he did not ask directly about our… my changes."
Luthiel bowed her head slightly. Morrigan snorted, already drinking again. She downed nearly half the bowl in a single gulp before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as the pool of water on her head swayed around gently.
"Yeah… that is surprisin'," she said, her words beginning to blur slightly at the edges. "And … judgin' by your bangs and that blue streak… you're El right now, yeah?"
Her eyes narrowed just slightly as she leaned forward. "Anyways… it's like I thought. Kid's probably good at heart. But I don't trust him."
She took another slower sip this time, her gaze sharpening just a little despite the alcohol. "You see… I can tell he's wearin' a Mgbaaka Maara on his wrist."
Luthiel froze. Her hand rose slowly to her mouth, her posture stiffening just slightly as her head tilted.
"Oh… you can tell?" she asked without much emotion. "How did you know?"
Morrigan sighed, clearly disappointed. "Not quite the—extremely surprised after a big reveal—reaction I was hopin' for," she muttered. "But yeah I suppose that checks out. You're El right now."
She waved her hand lazily.
"Anyways, it's simple. Two reasons. First—" she lifted a finger, wobbling slightly, "—it's not a high-level version. In fact, I would say it's quite a low-end version. Easy to notice if you know what you're lookin' for. Honestly, I am borderline offended that anyone would think cheap shit like that would work on me."
A second finger rose.
"Second… when you get as good as me at feelin' the flow of Anima… stuff like that?" She let out a small laugh. "It doesn't hide from ya."
Another bowl was poured for Morrigan and another drink was taken. Her posture slumped further as her words began to slur more heavily.
"Ahh… and… fuck, um…" she muttered, blinking slowly. "Basically… that boy's bein' tracked. Sent by… someone… or somethin'…" She hiccupped lightly. "I don't think he means to be bad… but he's… definitely hidin' somethin'… or… yeah… somethin'…"
Her voice trailed off and within seconds, her grip loosened, and she began to drift. Luthiel stood there, watching her in silence. Then, slowly she began to think to her selves.
She should be moved to her bed. Another thought overlapped gently. Yes. That would be appropriate. A third lingered, resistant, before eventually giving way.
…Fine.
Luthiel stepped forward carefully, lifting Morrigan with surprising ease despite her own small frame. She carried her up the stairs with slow, deliberate movements, ensuring she didn't stumble or jostle her too much. Once inside the room, she laid her down properly, adjusted her position, and pulled a blanket over her. She bowed once more before turning and leaving.
The house fell quiet again, but Luthiel did not rest. Instead, she decided to do some cleaning to get her in the proper mood to sleep. Every surface, every object, every misplaced item—she handled them all with precise, almost ritualistic care. Dust was removed, furniture straightened, small imperfections corrected. The entire space slowly shifted as she cleaned every surface of the house until it sparkled and shined. As she worked, her thoughts were anything but ordered however.
Be kind to him, make him trust us enough to share the truth with us. He was kind and we should let him tell us all at our own pace. It would be wrong to force him if you ask me. One voice suggested softly.
Screw that kissy missy bullshit. He is hiding something from us, so we should force him to speak. Master already said she doesn't trust him so we shouldn't give him any benefits if the master doesn't put her full faith in him. I will break him if necessary. Another countered, this voice's tone was sharper and more aggressive and added.
The current voice—the one in control right now—remained calm.
No, we should observe first. Master said she did not trust him. But just like the rest of us she also said he was nice and seemed to have no ill intentions. I believe acting irrationally is both idiotic and dumb but we should stay cautious and alert. Rushing into a decision on this boy would serve no purpose.
There was a pause. Then, reluctantly, the others agreed. By the time she finished, the house was spotless.
Luthiel descended to a lower room, lying down slowly as she stared up at the ceiling. Her thoughts lingered on Grub, on Morrigan's words, on the faint unease that had settled somewhere deep within her.
Tomorrow would come and with it, answers may be found.
She couldn't help but hope Grub would turn out to be a good man.
***
Grub woke to pain. A sharp ring echoed faintly in his ears as a small jolt shot through his wrist, snapping him awake instantly. His eyes opened, his body tense, and his breath catching for just a second before he exhaled slowly.
He didn't need to think. He already knew what that shock and ringing meant.
It was time to make his report.
Grub sat up, exhaustion still clinging to his body as he rubbed his wrist briefly before standing. He moved quietly, slipping out of the room and into the night, careful not to draw attention as he made his way through the village. Then he went past it and into the forest outside.
The sounds of the village faded behind him, replaced by the quiet rustling of trees and the distant hum of the forest. After a few minutes of walking, he saw them.
A Lacert was waiting for him. The creature stood still, holding a quill and a sheet of paper, its posture relaxed but watchful. Grub felt irritation rise immediately. He didn't want to say anything. But he couldn't say nothing either. So he settled somewhere in between.
As he began to speak to the reporter, he told them he had been shown around the village by a girl. That he had nearly been executed. That he had learned very little.
He made sure to mention no names and tried to avoid specifics where he could. Nothing that couldn't be guessed. Grub told just enough of the truth to make the lie believable. When he finished, the Lacert simply nodded, writing everything down without question.
"Return," it said simply. "Before you are noticed."
Grub didn't respond. He turned and walked away without another word. As he moved back through the forest, his hand rose slowly to his wrist, his fingers brushing against the bracelet.
The Mgbaaka Maara. His jaw tightened slightly. He needed to get rid of it as soon as possible.
Because right now it was nothing but a nuisance.
And he hated being controlled.