The Cellist

Mirage couldn't tear his eyes away from Victor. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears, drowning out whatever Ulrich was saying.

Was this real? Was he hallucinating? Earlier he'd entertained the hope of Victor saving him, but he'd dismissed it as a childish fantasy. Now...now….

There was no way he could imagine it, was there? The intensity of that gaze.

If so, it meant Victor had a front-row view of him in Ulrich's lap. But Mirage was too astonished about seeing him again to feel much embarrassment.

He couldn't stop watching Victor even as Ulrich greeted the other three, who'd come as a group. Wasn't like Ulrich would notice, busy as he was. Nor did he have reason to suspect a thing when Mirage was clinging to his jacket so tightly; not for comfort, but to anchor himself, remind himself this was real.

On occasion, Ulrich would absently pat him on the head or back. Each time made Mirage want to jump out of his skin, but he didn't miss how Victor's eyes narrowed whenever it happened.

Such a small thing, yet somehow that made it easier to bear.

The leader of the first group, a man with scruffy whiskers, offered the stinking corpse of a nightsoarer to Ulrich as tribute. Apparently his group were monster hunters, and they wanted to pledge their service to the Zieglers.

It didn't surprise Mirage when Ulrich waved his hand and snapped, "Out of my sight." Did these fools really believe killing a few weak monsters would earn them the Zieglers' interest, let alone access to their Levia?

Even more foolishly, the man attempted standing his ground. "Please, Lord Ziegler! We have journeyed for months – "

"Get out, I said." This time when Ulrich flicked his wrist, several of his burliest guards stepped forward and grabbed the monster hunters. They writhed and protested, their shouts echoing across the hall, but couldn't stop the guards from marching them back out of the doors.

When the doors slammed shut, Ulrich wrinkled his nose at the carcass still on the floor. "Get rid of that too."

More guards obliged, hauling it away. In its state it couldn't even serve as food for the leemas; they were probably going to toss it into the wasteland where it belonged.

Throughout everything, Victor remained standing like a stone wall, expression revealing nothing. Just as expected from him.

Sighing, Ulrich leaned back and pulled Mirage closer to his chest. Mirage swallowed hard, fighting the urge to push Ulrich away from him.

"So," Ulrich said, not even bothering to hide his impatience. "I hope you won't waste my time like those weaklings. Why should I accept your service?"

Victor stepped forward, carefully carrying the cello case with him. "I'm not a very strong fighter, I'll admit it."

His voice was quiet, but every word resounded in Mirage's bones anyway. Words he couldn't make heads or tails of. Not a strong fighter? What kind of lie was that?

"Then you're no use to me." Ulrich lifted his hand, clearly ready to dismiss Victor.

"But I can play this." With quick, deft movements, Victor opened the case. Mirage stared, wide-eyed, as he pulled out a huge cello varnished a rich reddish-brown.

"Lord Ziegler, your family is from Earth, isn't it? When's the last time you were able to hear this kind of music?"

Ulrich lifted his chin. "You're telling me you know how to play it? A random Tielan like you?"

"I met a wizard once. He taught me," Victor said, emotionless as ever.

"Well, then." Ulrich idly stroked Mirage's hair. "Let's hear it. Get him a chair or something."

The guards obliged, setting a stool in front of Victor. He seated himself and positioned the cello, moving with his characteristic smooth, almost feline grace. Except it felt surreal seeing him with a cello in his hands instead of a sword.

A cello, of all things. Just where had Victor gotten it? Probably from the same shop Mirage had bought his perfume, if he thought about it.

But what had given Victor the idea in the first place? To once again pick up the instrument he'd rejected all those years ago….

Victor lifted the bow, touching it to the strings. The skin prickled on the back of Mirage's neck. Dimly, he realized this would be the first time he'd ever seen Victor play. Never had he imagined it would happen in the Ziegler stronghold on Tielos.

When Victor drew the bow across the strings, all thought fled Mirage's mind.

A long, low note resounded through the hall, filling every empty space in the air. More than hearing it, Mirage felt it deep inside his bones.

This wasn't just the music of an instrument; it sounded almost like a voice, raw with fury. An unrestrained cry. It rose and fell slowly at first, sweeping through Mirage's body in pulsing waves, but soon gained speed and fervor. And it never stayed still. Just when Mirage thought he'd gotten a grasp of the rhythm, it swerved another direction: rising in pitch, changing in tempo, transitioning to a different melody.

This couldn't be called beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. Nothing like the refined symphonies and waltzes Mirage preferred. Yet it compelled him down to the bottom of his soul.

The music drowned out his heartbeat, drove away all thought and feeling, fear and doubt. It no longer mattered that he was sitting in Ulrich's lap dressed like a whore. All that existed were the cello's deep notes thrumming through his body.

And...and Victor. His eyes closed, head bowed, hands moving frantically. The bow swept up and down, back and forth, at times flicking lightly, other times tearing across the strings as if it wanted to break them into pieces. Like he was waging war against the cello, like it was an enemy he was forcing into submission.

One last sweep of the bow, one last ferocious roar. It echoed through the chamber like a war cry, or perhaps a challenge.

When Victor lowered the bow, it felt like a spell had broken. He stood up, calm as ever, before sweeping into a formal bow.

The next thing Mirage knew, Ulrich pushed him out of his lap and rose to his feet. Mirage tumbled to his knees in front of the throne. In the sudden silence, all that could be heard was Ulrich's ringing applause – a mere shadow of the cello's passionate music.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Ulrich cried, still clapping madly. "Bravo! You, sir, are a true virtuoso!"

Still silent, Victor bowed again. But Mirage didn't miss how his left hand crept toward the pouch on his belt.

With a flick of his fingers, he tugged something out of the pouch. A crystal, jagged and jet-black.

Mirage's heart flipped around.

He felt Levia spike – faint and distant, yet unmistakable. A flash of icy purple fire.

Ulrich felt it too. He came to a sudden stop, eye widening.

Victor flung up his hand, the crystal already aglow with his Levia. The purple light swallowed his body, and when it vanished, he stood tall and proud in full armor.

The last time Mirage had seen Victor like this must have been at Smith's place. Now an indescribable ache welled inside him, a powerful mix of longing and pride.

"Wait, what – " Ulrich began.

Victor lunged.

"Master, get back!" Rain raced to meet Victor. A swing of his sword blasted purple flames at her, knocking her back, and the next thing Mirage knew Victor was kneeling in front of him.

With the helm on, his face was hidden. It didn't matter, because Mirage knew exactly what expression he'd be wearing. The same intense focus from when he had played the cello, as if nothing existed in his view except Mirage.

When Victor held out his hand, Mirage grabbed it like a lifeline. The hand yanked, tugging Mirage tight to Victor's chest. Just like Ulrich had held him earlier – but it was different, all different. The cold hard armor felt nothing like Ulrich's lustful heat.

"Wait wait wait!" Ulrich screamed. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving," Victor said simply. Mirage dug his fingers into the grooves of his armor, refusing to let go.

"You – " Rage flooded Ulrich's face scarlet. "You can't be – Spider Lily's new wizard? Come to take your possession back?"

"Wrong," Victor said. "He doesn't belong to me."

With that, he leaped into the air. Mirage clung tighter, squeezing his eyes shut as wind whipped past. He heard shouts, metal singing through the air. But when icy Levia surged around him, the shouts turned into confused screams.

In spite of everything, a smirk tugged up Mirage's lips. These fools didn't stand a chance against his strongest soldier.

The last thing he heard as Victor burst through the door was Ulrich's enraged bellow. Nowhere as lovely as the cello, but still music to his ears.