Castor found himself back in his bed, the morning light, pale and grey, filtering through his closed window. He lay perfectly still, his body humming with a strange, vibrant energy. He sat up, his movements fluid, unburdened.
The familiar scent of dust and old paper filled Castor's nostrils. A low groan escaped him as his eyes, dark brown and human once more, fluttered open.
The ceiling, cracked plaster in a pattern he knew intimately, swam into focus. He lay on his simple wooden bed, the single sheet tangled around his legs, his trousers still on. A faint chill pricked his chest, a ghost of the cool, ethereal air of the Nether. He sat up.
"Huh?"
"What's happening?" He blinked, the dimly lit room solidifying around him. The sturdy wooden desk. The candle stand, half-burned candle listing precariously. The window, closed against the perpetual fog of Loen-staad. A wave of disorientation, sharp and sudden, crashed over him.
He suddenly turned towards the calendar. With a peculiar look.
" I guess I'm back " He muttered.
" It's still Saturday, that mean even though I've been on the Nether, for more than month, only a day passed here."
Silence, thick and absolute, swallowed the room. The world seemed to hold its breath. He sat motionless, lost in a whirlwind of scattering memories. The vast, violet-hued chamber, the shadowy throne, Dero's voice.
" What a bad mood to start a day "
The hole in the chest of the other shirt was still there, a tangible reminder of a forgotten death. He pushed the thought away.
Today was a new day, with new possibilities.
He left his apartment, locking the door with a familiar twist of the key. The narrow hallway was dim, smelling of old wood and stale cooking. He descended the stairs, each step lighter than usual.
The outside air, damp and cool, carried the faint, distant sounds of the city waking up the rumble of carts, the cries of street vendors, the pervasive, melancholic clang of the cathedral clock. He paused at the bottom of the steps, taking a deep breath. Loen-staad. Grand Lumeria City. His home.
" Not exactly, but it will be from now on for sure " He clunched his fist with a genuine and promising smile
" It all felt like a dream."
His faced showed a genuine smile, yet vivid, etched into the very core of his being.
He walked towards The Ledger-House, the familiar path now imbued with a new sense of purpose. The grey, foggy streets, usually a source of mild irritation, now held a subtle intrigue.
He noticed the slight sway of a lamppost, the minute vibrations of the cobblestones as a carriage passed. He felt a faint, almost imperceptible connection to everything around him, as if the world was a vast, intricate tapestry, and he could now pluck at its threads.
Seems his power hasn't completely vanished, He could see the world differently.
"Castor, You're late again!" The booming voice of Manager Albright echoed through the cavernous hall, making several clerks jump. Albright, a man whose girth matched his temper, stood at the head of their aisle, his face a florid red.
Thomas flinched from his desk, peering as he heard Albright calling out Castor.
Albright turned his gaze, sharp and accusatory, on Castor. "Mr. Valerius?"
" Why are you late..... No most importantly. Why were you absent yesterday."
" I caught up in a terrible accident yesterday." Castor softened his tone to politeness.
" As for today, I guess it's another eventful morning." He let out a soft breath as he said so.
Another 'eventful morning,' I assumed?" He sneered, mimicking Castor's earlier words.
"Perhaps a sudden burst of inspiration for your next fantastical tale?"
Castor met Albright's stare, a calmness he hadn't possessed before settling over him. "Indeed, Manager. You could say that." He held Albright's gaze, focusing his will, subtly, on the heavy, brass-bound ledger on Albright's desk. The ledger, open to a page of meticulous script, slowly, almost imperceptibly, began to close.
Albright's eyes narrowed. "Don't get smart with me, Valerius. This is a house of order, not a stage for your poetic musings.
" He gestured impatiently towards Castor's desk up the stairs. "Now, get to your post. And I expect those overdue tariffs to be tallied by noon. No excuses." He turned, his back to Castor, and began to walk away, his massive frame swaying.
As Albright turned, the ledger on his desk slammed shut with a sharp "clack". Albright stumbled, startled, spinning back around.
He stared at the closed ledger, then at Castor, his face a mask of confusion.
Castor offered a small, innocent smile.
"Something wrong, Manager?"
Albright grumbled, picking up the ledger and re-opening it.
He shot Castor a suspicious glance, then shook his head, muttering to himself about drafts and faulty hinges.
Thomas, who had witnessed the ledger's sudden movement, gaped at Castor, his eyes wide. "Did you…?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
" Ssh, we'll talk later, for now let's focus on our task." Castor whispered back.
Castor merely winked, then strode to his own desk upstairs, a sense of exhilaration coursing through him. The mundane world, it seemed, was far more interesting with a little… intervention.
"Ahh. I guess I haven't completely lost my power."
He sat down, picking up his quill. The familiar scratch of nib on parchment, the faint scent of ink. He began to work, his mind surprisingly clear, his fingers flying across the ledger.
He found a rhythm, a flow. He was still a clerk, but he was also something more now. The balance sheets, the trade tariffs, the mundane details of the empire's economy – they still called to him, but now, he saw them through a different lens. He saw the threads connecting them, the subtle energies at play.
Hours passed in a blur. The rhythmic scratching of quills, the rustle of paper, the occasional cough or sigh – it was all a symphony of the ordinary. Castor worked diligently, his concentration absolute. He found that focusing his will, the same will he used for telekinesis, also sharpened his mental acuity, allowing him to spot discrepancies with unnerving speed.
"Castor?" A soft voice broke his concentration.
He looked up. Mary, the head secretary, stood beside his desk. Her dark hair always neatly pinned, her spectacles perched on the end.
"Mary." Castor smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. He felt a different kind of connection to her now, a deeper appreciation for her quiet strength.
" I'm glad to see you again." She gave a warmth smile which left him stunned for a moment.
" You took a day off?" She added a question slightly bending, pressing the thick paper holding on her hand, against her chest.
" No, I just got caught up in a....small accident. Though it's not worthy to worry about." He gave a smile of assurance, slightly blushed.
"Oh, I almost forgot it."
"Manager Albright wants to see you in his office. Immediately." Her voice was hushed, a hint of worry in her eyes. She glanced over her shoulder at Albright's closed office door. "He seemed… agitated."
Castor nodded, placing his quill neatly beside his ledger. He stood, noticing the slight tension in Mary's shoulders. He focused his will, a subtle, almost imperceptible warmth spreading from his hand towards her. Her shoulders relaxed, a small sigh escaping her.
Mary blinked, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. "Thank you, Castor," she murmured, though she seemed unsure why. She quickly turned and hurried back to her own desk.
Castor walked towards Albright's office, a sense of calm confidence settling over him. The faint hum of power beneath his skin was a constant companion. He knocked once, sharply.
"Enter!" Albright's voice, muffled but still booming, came from within.
Castor pushed the door open. Albright sat behind his massive oak desk, a stack of ledgers piled precariously high before him. His face was still red, a vein throbbing in his temple.
"Valerius," Albright snapped, without looking up. "Do you know why you're here?"
"I can hazard a guess, Manager," Castor replied, his voice even.
Albright finally looked up, his eyes narrowed to slits. " You know one of our recently hired workers, Ben Merrits died the previous day, his corpse was found yesterday morning, along with other bodies by the feudal knights, in the city of Ruins. The case was later handed to the Unified Police."
Castor suddenly got a flashback of it and felt a jolt run throughout his body. He knew he was in trouble. So he decided to stay unhinged about the incident for a while
"I'm sorry to hear about that."
"That's not all, there's eye witnesses saying, you left the bar with him that night." He crossed his arm and harshened his tone.
" Oh about that, we parted ways on the blunder street, near the blackmith." Castor slightly lied, assured that there was no one around the blacksmith, when they passed through the way. Still pretending to be unhinged.
" Oh. Is that so.
That was reassuring... Though I never suspected you from start." His voice softened, but still held his suspicious gaze.
" Feudal knights or the police might come to investigate you soon. I hope you to stay out of trouble." Albright gave a strained smile.
"And one more thing"
"You caused a disturbance this morning, Valerius. That ledger did not close itself. And I have heard whispers from the other clerks about… strange occurrences around your desk." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
"Are you dabbling in some sort of… spiritualism? Black magic?"
Castor stared at Albright, a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer around his own hand. "I assure you, Manager, I am merely… more focused on my work. Perhaps the ledger simply had a faulty mechanism." He focused his will, subtly, on the stack of ledgers on Albright's desk. The top ledger, a particularly thick volume, began to slide, inch by agonizing inch, towards the edge of the desk.
Albright snorted. "Faulty mechanism? That ledger is new! And what about the whispers? The quills that write on their own? The inkwells that float?" He pointed a thick finger at Castor. "I'm not a fool, Valerius! I've seen this before. These… unusual talents. They lead to trouble. Big trouble."
The top ledger reached the edge. Castor maintained his focus.
"The Ledger-House values order, Valerius! Predictability! Not… not this!" Albright's voice rose to a yell.
The ledger toppled. With a heavy "thud", it landed on the floor, scattering papers and sending a cloud of dust into the air.
Albright froze, his eyes wide. He stared at the fallen ledger, then slowly, fearfully, at Castor. His face, previously red with anger, now drained of all color.
Castor met his gaze, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He lowered his hand, the subtle shimmer vanishing. "Perhaps, Manager," he said, his voice soft, yet carrying an undeniable authority, "some things are simply beyond our understanding."
Albright swallowed hard, his eyes darting from the ledger to Castor, then back again. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to shrink in his chair, his bluster completely gone. "Get… get out, Valerius," he stammered, waving a trembling hand. "Just… just get back to your work."
Castor nodded, a profound sense of satisfaction blooming in his chest. He turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him. He heard Albright's shaky sigh from within.
He returned to his desk. Mary, from her desk, watched him with wide, curious eyes. Castor simply sat down, picked up his quill, and resumed his work, a faint, triumphant smile on his face.
The mundane world. Yes, it was definitely calling to him. And he was ready to answer, with a power he never thought he'd possess.
The spreadsheets still called, but now, they were merely another canvas for his abilities. The clerk had returned, but he was no longer just a clerk. He was Castor, the clone of the heart of the Netherlands, and the city of Loen-staad would never be quite the same.