A Tale of One Deviant (Book One)

Chapter 143: Magaris' Daily Troubles

"What is that smell?"

     So wretched. So nauseating...almost like the master had tried to cook rotten meat in his hearth.

     Magaris had to go straight over to open the window because of how much it stank. It was too much. Even opening the window and sacrificing a bit of her mana to conjure some wind magic wasn't good enough. It was acrid, forcing itself into her nose. A dust cloth smacked her face, one she hadn't even managed to use because walking towards the window was the first thing she'd done.

     Why doesn't he just eat when we bring his meals to him?

     It was the third day since the lord had been back, yet he still left the platters on his desk, untouched, until Magaris or some other maid came to retrieve it. What little hope he'd let the estate have by letting the little Dragon stay in their residence - or rather, somewhere on the estate, since she apparently preferred a cave she found nearby - was quickly crushed.

     "Not even a single bite," Tierre shook her head, setting the cover back onto the cold food. "He's really trying to starve himself."

     And he looked like it. Not a single bit of the handsome, strong young man he'd been before, remained. Instead, the same quiet shell of a man that had mourned the loss of his first wife years ago was back, and he didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. Not that his clothes were still hanging off of him, that his armor looked too big, anything.

     The only good thing he'd done was shave and attempt, somewhat haphazardly, to cut his hair. It was a blessing that he let one of the maids do it when they couldn't stand to see that back part sticking out any longer.

     But after that, still. The hope was gone. His attempts to somewhat pick himself up were squashed by his choice of starvation and his preference to read in the dark of his room all day. The maids had been forbidden from cleaning in there, but probably only the bravest of souls would've wanted to. At least the littlest lady kept her stacks in order. His were all over the place.

     Why? Magaris asked herself, sticking the top half of her body out of the window and enjoying, for once, the cold that numbed her face. It was better than being in that room. Is this his way of punishing himself? For...

     Letting his daughter go?

     The maid's eyes opened. Below was a scene of snow circling a single frozen fountain in the middle of the path. It had been cleared away so the white stuff only sat on top of the used-to-be-grass, as well as the maze hedges to her right, and the collapsing gazebo to her left. The forest all around them was green, covered with snow, except for the purified land just outside of the gate that had been white, summer or winter, for almost five years. Two guards stood in front of the gate, too far away for the one spying at them from far and high above to make out their identities.

     Two day had passed since she'd seen the Demon. The familiar. The royal nanny. River. Kiki Nazira...whatever, or whoever she was...but Magaris still couldn't wrap her head around their conversation. It just didn't make sense.

     "They're the nicest, most unbiased people I know. If anything, they'd probably be more willing to accept Firea than me."

     "When confronted with your darkest fears, do you think you would think straight?"

     Her nose was already red. Something was leaking down it, making her nose twitch. Ice water had fallen from the gutters above.

     "No. I don't think so."

     The room had aired out enough, by the time she leaned back in, to not smell so bad...but it was still bad. There was no way she was sticking around any longer. Call her a bad maid, but she wasn't looking to smell like that stuff by the time she was done cleaning. She'd get dirty looks all around.