Tenth author's journal 2: Mikhail

38_Reason for betrayal

Chapter 38: Traitor’s banquet

‘Supernatet’: The spell comes from the imitation of beasts using the force of the wind to travel with the sky without the need for wings. It used is to suspense the user from falling further at the current casting height, some said it to compare to a falling feather or leaf.

After the two weeks that Andromalius has been back in the office, the place has finally calmed with his presence as my caretaker. I probably give him too much work as the title should have been. What is the caretaker’s duty anyway?

To carry out mundane works? No, that’s a steward. To take care of the sovereign? Then why need still the healer from the church, and Andromalius the one being healed rather than me? How about carrying my duty in my place and carrying out my work…yes, a chancellor of a sort.

Remembering the head angel used to say something along the line of my former future as the human kingdom chancellor. I never caught the meaning of it, now I see what devotion drives them as such. While it’s arguable about pride and greed, a chancellor’s duty is carrying out the wish of their sovereign, directly or passively.

“Andromalius, have you finished the side of your work yet?” Looking to his side, a few have been piled with notes attached, those aren’t piles on his right side. Still, the efficiency needs some improvement.

To think this is the speed he was left with when I left for the world tree meeting, it’s a miracle everything didn’t turn into a nightmare on the first day I leave. I wonder how they keep their voices down, maybe because of Andromalius’s authority.

“No, Mikhail. You have finished all of them again? How quickly do you work?” Andromalius breaks a nervous sweat, asking about the past again. I see there is no end to this bottom less curious, isn’t it? Taking half of the unfinished work, I begin to retell the same tale again.

“I don’t know, mostly I finish quite many of them back when I was still young. I self-taught the [apocolypse] series in three days or so, they are so hard to remember.” I recall such peaceful days in the library with no one to torment me with the constant cycles between life and death. Let's see…the knights have learned to make better statements about their daily basis.

“Three days…haha.” Andromalius smiles nervously.

These reports are particularly easy, as they’re distinctively consistent about the topic. When times of war, they are much more cryptic and less constant because many spies that planted in the army. He should learn it before time.

“I admit not being so good with documents because of how my comrades used to word it down for me. So long line of reports as my descendants concluded only whether the village has prospered or withered.” Andromalius admits, well that is why he has blamed himself before.

It wasn’t so far from the truth as he wholeheartedly believed in that co-dependence contract. The thought of civil affairs never cross his mind until now, his concern was only whether the warriors were sufficient themselves to protect the village and Saudade or not.

“Sooner or later, you will, sir Andromalius. For the duty that you hold, I should call you rather as my chancellor rather than my caretaker.” I spurt out the thought, rather than having it later, shouldn’t now to say before it is too late.

“What is a chancellor?” Andromalius asks, laying on the back of the chair for a bit. His tired self is the result of these three days works himself from dusk till dawn. Despite being told to sleep many times, Andromalius still stubbornly stayed awake with me. It’s nice to have someone stay with you tonight.

“The human sovereign called it to their right-hand one. I guess it is something similar to the sovereign’s shadow as I am to Kryos but different as I trust you with your wisdom as the Ars Goetia one.” I give everything to explain the flimsy definition of a “chancellor”

“I see. Thank you for putting your faith in me.” Laughing, Andromalius is sure not to have any understanding of my explanation, but it’s served its purpose.

When the sun has reached its peak, I will have to bid farewell to this peaceful work in the comfort of the office onto the battlefield of words. The banquet of traitors, is it not?

Remembering the promise from before I concentrate on my memory from before. The ever snow mountain rows, the theoretic perfect shape of nature. I try to focus on the scenery at the cave I saw on the night of escaping the garden.

‘Collocatione’ Teleporting myself, I was at the height of free falling. I have never been good at this type of magic. My thought has been put too far up as the scenery was from the time I travel with Blood Claw rather than the cave entrance. My wing is wounded from the blood extraction, so it’s unusable.

‘Supernatet’ The spell should make me hover around enough to travel to the place below. As per his instruction, Lambert’s place should be at the valley near the end of the entrance of the garden of promise. Which is the forest-side lake at the foothill, the garden has been particularly abandoned since the last escape ever happened.

Across the lake, there should be the entrance. There stands a dark elf, their race holds from the shadow, particularly at the line between dark and light…which is a myth that shouldn’t exist at all. Dark elves as Lambert said are more agile and physically stronger than the other elves. Their dark skin is due to their night hunting schedule as the nocturnal ones.

“State your purpose, archangel!” She raises her weapon at me, a bow and arrows with the tip that is dipped in poison. The smell…Uriel you have given yourself out just by that but sure I will play along.

“As the father of all elves has invited, I am just here to join him.” I bows. She lowers her weapon and giggles.

“You are here, already third?” The voice echoes from inside the cave, it is so loud I think it deafens us a little.

“I told you not to use that old nickname for me, Lambert,” I refute. Lambert walks out with a miniature version of himself. He hasn’t thought of adjusting the sound aspect of the current vessel it seems.

The green flowing hair still appears as his signature looks but the shade of his skin…the shade of violet turns into brown. Lambert must have taken akin

“I know, I know. Just that I have missed our old days of me visiting that cage of yours. Come inside the others has come, well expect for eighth.” Lambert looks around, he hasn’t noticed her yet. I don’t know whether her superior sensitivity to mana or his just playing around like me.

“Who said I haven’t been here already? Hello, Mikhail. Eleventh. ” Uriel changes back to her usual looks of a high elf. The golden with soft white skin, the dress she chooses to change is somewhat ceremonial with vials of potion and herb at her waistband.

“You with that those disguises, Uriel.” I sigh as if I don’t see through that tacky disguise of hers.

“I go by name too, eighth?” Lambert asks surprisingly.

“No, just for Mikhail. I don’t dislike the order that much, but since we are on the same boat, you can me Uriel if you like.” Uriel gives an understanding look.

“You know, Uriel. I never thought a priestess woul-“Lambert's sentence cuts by Uriel's grunts: “Too far, we aren’t that intimate either.”

“Anyway, welcome you both to my humble home, he and I have been waiting for you both.” Lambert walks us through the cave system, they are exquisite as many of his creations are living here. Not just all kinds of elven but also drown and many types of reptiles such as salamanders. Each of them has its habitat held up by many weather types of magic.

The banquet holds in the final room where the earth crystalizes to form obsidian. The room is open only to Lambert’s magic, the seal doesn’t look easy to crack. Its structure of it requires the highest space equation to form, though it needn’t be the highest method to solve easily tho.

The table for four in between many cabinets of herbs. The wall hangs too many portraits of elves, maybe these were his so-called priestesses, the fourth traitor sits on his chair, and the phoenix on his hand bursts to flame once it sees us.

“Fifth, they have come already, let us have the banquet begins,” Lambert says while cleaning our seats.

“…” The fifth archangel uncovers his hood, the sliver of long hair to his half back, and those grey golden eyes look straight at us. This is the first time, I have looked at him up close, I can’t make sense of what kind of creature he was once before being an archangel. One would mistake him for a primordial angel to crown archangel by God.

“I am not common with so many people so let me apologize in advance.” Solemnly, he speaks. The breath of the north cold covers him still, reading through many books, I don’t remember temperature manipulation to be one of his authorities.

“All right then, Zadki-“ My greeting shot down by the icicle past my cheek.

“Call me, fifth or Matasyn. Don’t call me by that filthy name here.” Scorn, Matasyn said. He may have a reason like Lambert to remain to be his old name.

The table tension is higher than ever with his transgression. Well we are allies by purpose, aren’t we? Making this first impression isn’t likable, but I find his reaction to being one of reasonable. I would do the same if they speak of me as a demon’s concubine of a sort.

“Are you just going to take that, Mikhail?” Uriel scoffs

“It’s my fault after all,” I speak seemingly. Apologize to Matasyn, I react with a small smile from him, though his chill is one rival of the real north I would rather not be touched at all by him.

“Yes let all calm ourselves, here is some freshly baked biscuit Mikhail.” Handing it over we sit down at the table.

Silence engulfs us the whole time as we chow down on the food present before us. Sweet for me, grilled fish for Uriel, roast pork for Matasyn, and vegetables for Lambert. We aren’t talkative at the table in contrast to my days in Saudade where many would discuss their day on the meal.

“Why do you call us here, Lambert? You know they will grow suspicious of me to leave the place for so long. Those beasts will make a mess once no one to restrain them.” Matasyn speaks as he finishes the meal.

“We are here to discuss among ourselves whom to kill to kick start the civil war. Four is enough number to fight against eight, right?” Lambert news makes everyone thinks for themselves. Whom to kill first, for me it would-

“Then, let kill Sa-“Matasyn's idiotic statement has been stopped by Uriel's rationality “Stop that irrational thought, he will teleport the rest of them to kill us that instance. Do you wish for death that easily?”

“How about Raphael?” she suggests.

“Her domain is near the human kingdom, they will kick start more of the world ending one and a sealing would happen.” Lambert refutes, I have quite a good connection with the human king but there is no telling on the dwarf reaction to that so there may be a world-ending event happens

“Then I Cammael or Azazel then?” Lambert suggests an unsuitable one.

“They are too strong, last time I check; they were able to clean a whole large-scale war in less than a day.” I object. As usual picking on those lessons make me how destructed they are.

“Then I suggest Barachiel, her domain is in the middle of a forest, she wouldn’t have time to call for help,” Matasyn suggests finally a viable one, truly Barachiel isolates herself as the archangel of nature so she may no grow fond of any but to revise the rule of the food chain.

“But she is-“ Lambert’s interruption is once again shot down

“She was my lover and my mistake has given her this miserable fate. I have to end it…the pain of assuming someone she didn’t want to be.” Matasyn mournfully says. Lambert then tells us a story of his past.

Matasyn and Barachiel were a couple of human sages who devoted their lives to research but never confess their companionship to each other.  They never picked sides in the battle between angels and demons because of deciding it was useless.

Barachiel met her end when both almost reach immortality, Matasyn gave up the chance to become immortal and asked Lambert to bring him and her corpse to Sariel asking him to revive her and he would give his servitude.

But the cruel fate was that Sariel twisted the contract into making both archangels and erased Barachiel's memory of the previous life she has with Matasyn. Matasyn wants to end her fate as Sariel’s puppet by ending her.

“…What about Gabriel?” I suggest it as he is an easy target as well. As all of them rather fight their loved ones, I should too fight my brother for his powerlessness. He will die but I may grab his soul in the in-between realm to lock him up.

“Mikhail, but he is your brother.” Lambert worries

“He has no place to call home and he hasn’t left the garden is all I guessed. It would make it advantageous against him with someone has less than material powerless.” I say coldly, listing his weakness as he is vulnerable against curses and easily provoked.

“Ahhhhh, are we talking about family elimination now?” Uriel sighs, I guess she would do the same then.

“Hmmm, Jeremiel for me. I have known my twin for all of my life. Every strength and weakness of hers I have learned and covered as my cover. Bonus she and I share the same domain so we will have my subjects to help us as home turf.” Once those words were said, her eyes dull a little.

“Have you all gone this far?” Lambert shouts, hoping for us to change our minds.

“Let's face it, Lambert,” I say

“Every war has its sacrifices.” Harmonically, the three of us solemnly sigh.

To be continue