To Be A Prince of Hell

Chapter 4: Chandler

Meliodas stood outside the tower, debating whether or not it was a good idea to go in. He sighed. Might as well get it over with. He pushed open the giant wood and iron door. "Hello-" "YOUNG MASTER!!!!" By the pits. Already? He thought, annoyed as a small green blur flashed towards him and tackled him. Meliodas was used to it by now and had properly braced himself for impact. "It's soooo good to see youuuu!" Chandler sobbed.

Meliodas sighed impatiently. "Chandler. Pull yourself together. This isn't a social call." Chandler didn't listen. Instead, he clung to Meliodas, soaking his waistcoat with his tears. Meliodas huffed. He couldn't move with him hanging onto him like this. "May I have some ale?" He gritted out, knowing that was the only way Chandler would get off him. Chandler jumped away, bowing repeatedly. "Right away, Young Master!" He was so short, his head nearly touched the ground with every bow. Meliodas knew that, despite his small stature, Chandler was a force to be reckoned with. He was, after all, Meliodas's teacher.

He ran to go get the ale he had asked for, while Meliodas continued on to Chandler's study. Forgoing the chairs, he sat in the windowsill that overlooked Tartaros. The city bustled with life, something the other Clans would be surprised of. Meliodas could never understand the other Clans' presumptions of the Demon Realm. They thought it was a wasteland, the landscape too toxic for any but Demons. That wasn't true; this wasn't Purgatory. Any race could come here. They just wouldn't live long, between his territorial Clan and the monsters roaming the outskirts.

"Here's your ale, Young Master," Meliodas turned and took the glass from the older demon. He sipped at it, even though he wanted to just knock it back and chug. But getting a lecture on how to properly drink definitely wouldn't help him in the slightest. Chandler went to sit in a dark red chair that had to be as old as he was, with a padded seat. They sat there silently for a few minutes, while Meliodas sipped his ale and thought up exactly what he wanted to say. "I have a question for you," Meliodas finally stated.

Chandler nodded, completely serious now. "Yes? What is it?" "This Gowther...the pink haired one, that has the same power as the one I used to know...what is he?" Chandler hummed. "Oh, yes...I have to admit, I'm quite frankly impressed." Meliodas looked at him with a silent order to explain. "I've seen this creation, Young Master. I knew Gowther was a powerful, innovative man, but this is beyond what I thought even he could do."

Meliodas growled. "Stop dancing around. Give me a straight answer!" Chandler nodded, a bit of mischief glowing in his dark red eyes. "Of course, Young Master. The magician Gowther has created a living doll." Meliodas leaned forward, intrigued. "A living doll?" The older demon nodded. Meliodas leaned back, thinking.

Just the fact that Gowther was a living doll wasn't that impressive. After all, that's what Albions were. Just mounds of dirt and stone given the ability to move and breath and attack. But that mound of stone and magic didn't have the ability to think. It didn't have free will or a personality. But this doll Gowther was different. Yes, he was similar to the magician Gowther, but there were a few key differences. Meliodas had known him before the King threw him into prison. He was a serious, calm kind of person, and not many things amazed or surprised him. The new Gowther was almost child-like and possessed a complete lack of decorum or tact.

"Hmmm..." Meliodas hummed thoughtfully, turning to look back out the window. Maybe...a visit to the Prison is required. He could hear Chandler standing up. "I'll go and retrieve some more refreshments, Young Master. Then we can catch up!" He announced gleefully, before leaving the room. Meliodas scowled. His old master's idea of "catching up" was to cling to him and cry all over him while remembering the days he had taught the young prince. Really, Meliodas hated his clinginess, though he greatly respected him too. How could he not, when he had seen the man take down an Indura, a Beast of Absolute Destruction, all by himself with little effort?