Ch.8

For the winter, Lord Henry stayed with his third daughter's family as he did every year. However, this year, Erik had managed to attract the eye and interest of his grandfather.

Having come to learn of Erik's intellect and talent, he couldn't help but want to spend time with him, teaching and telling stories of his young age.

He was an old man now and found comfort that one of his grandchildren had such an interest in him, since other children both young or old, would be far too bored to listen to the old man's droning.

However, the interest Erik showed, he partially faked. It was apart of his plan to get closer to his grandfather, but at the same time, he was able to pick up skills from the old man he otherwise would not have been able to, so it was not all bad.

Lord Henry was rather proficient with the piano, and though playing the piano was hardly a useful skill, Erik found that learning it was better than not knowing how to play.

Lord Henry tapped the keys in a rhythmic tune. He was skilled, having had at least a few years of experience, and knew how to read the music sheets. Erik did not.

At first, Erik merely copied his grandfather's actions, watching closely the keys he pressed and how he positioned his fingers.

His hands were smaller, making for quite a difficult time at first for him to fully replicate. He stumbled in playing at the same speed and rhythm which infuriated him, not as though his expression showed much other than a cold death stare at the piano keys.

"Hahahah! It's all right, my boy. Try again."

His grandfather's encouragement did little to extinguish his petty rage which caused him to clench his thumb in his grip.

He let out a quick and soft breath and placed his hands on the keys again.

He was determined to learn, as failing to do so would was simply beneath him.

As the days of practice passed, it became common knowledge within the estate of his growing talent.

Maids gathered at the doorway to listen in, in the midst of their work, the beautiful sound Erik playing the piano at an almost masterful level.

"I can't believe how well the young master has gotten in only a week's time. Truly spectacular."

"Talent unlike any I'd say."

"Hear, hear."

Even his grandfather was surprised to see how well he'd progressed, misinterpreting Erik's despise of failure as a love for the musical instrument as he had.

The piano was not the only thing Erik learned from his grandfather, as Lord Henry was a businessman; a merchant who knew much of trade. Erik almost immediately picked up on his grandfather's teachings of algebra and economics which were not all in the books their library held.

This was of common doing during his grandfather's winterlong stay, while at night, his focus would be turned to educating the monster he kept hidden in the underground cellar.

"Mana. It is a resource. The same as dirt, blood, steel. All mana is the same, and yet all mana is different. Being able to use mana is not the same as knowing how to. Firstly, the soul. It is comparable to the body, and how you eat food. You consume meat and your body digests it, giving you the energy necessary to live. But, if you eat food that is rotten, or something that is not food at all, you will instead fall ill. This is because you are simply unable to process it. The soul is the same. Every time you breathe, you are absorbing mana, like eating food. Over billions of years, the world's mana has changed, and living creatures have evolved to adapt to it."

The lamia listened with wide eyes. Every word he spoke was being committed to memory, and he knew this. He could see it as he raised his gaze over his journal and would accept no less.

He lowered his eyes and continued to explain, writing down his teachings in the journal as he went.

"Genetics determines everything, magical affinity included. When you absorb mana, your soul will naturally change it into whatever is natural, but through force of will, you can make whatever you could possibly imagine. Whether it comes easily or not, depends on affinity, skill, talent, imagination, control. The list is as long as the capability of magic as a whole. The power to bend space, transmute matter, create life, end life, to manipulate and deceive."

He raised the tip of his pen off the page and set it down. His pupils raised to look at the womanly figure ahead of him.

"There is no point in lying, and you should strive to be smart enough to realize that I have manipulated you with the prize of food. Tell me, why do you believe I have sheltered you, fed you, and taught you, all this time?"

"...To... Be of service to you!"

"Hm." The corner of his lips raised in amusement. "A god is all-powerful, regardless of whether they are worshipped or not. However, a king is no more than a man if he has no people to govern over, regardless of the throne he sits on. My goal in this world is to become a king, one worshipped as a god. To do so, I first need such worshippers."

The lamia gasped with a stunted expression, sucking in air through her teeth and fangs as he exclaimed.

"Master! I worship you! With all of my life, I worship you!!"

"Good. It is faith that you have, but I dislike such a concept. Trust is something the weak rely on when they can not rely on themselves. Act only on what you know, lie for your benefit."

As the days nights went on, the journal at which Erik wrote all of his teachings into, reached the point that it became filled til the end. There, he began writing in a new one, and he wrote, and wrote, and wrote more. Of course, he had much to teach, but little time to. He needed to act ahead and write even during the day without anyone knowing the contents.

The snow had melted early by the third month of winter despite the still freezing cold air. His grandfather, Lord Henry, returned home soon after.

By then, Erik had managed to complete eleven, thick, leather-bound journals filled to the brim with words and knowledge. It would not be too far-fetched to say that a single page could incite a war to gain or destroy even a single page, dubbing it heresy.

That night, he once again made his way to the cellar and to the pit where the female wolf and her litter of pups were. She had eight, yet five had long died, while two more now lay dead on the laid dead. The final remaining pup was perfectly fine.

The lamia slithered up behind him and said: "They passed at five, master."

"They do not matter. It is the remaining one that does."

"Master...? What do you mean...?"

"Shfi'nyl. A parasitic mana used by the most skilled assassins. It is every weapon all at once, able to be worn and concealed in the very shadow you cast. It is even a potent poison, and fill the air with it, it can leave your enemies blind and deaf to their surroundings. It is a very infectious kind of mana, seeping itself into the deepest depths of your soul and completely assuming. It is the very same kind of mana I use to enter and leave this room, and this pup survived with one of the altered strains, meaning if you were to take it into your soul, you would surely survive also."

The lamia's eyes lit up with expectation and excitement, but that look on her face was quickly disgruntled by Erik's change in expression. He would often seem aloof or disinterested, along with his cold expression, but now the look he had was far more serious and threatening, as if anything were to pester him, he would react violently.

"I have taught you much in a short amount of time, but not nearly enough for me to trust that you won't fail whatever task I give you. However, I have little choice. In seven days' time, you will leave this place to never return."

Fear and worry overcame her as though her chest had been pierced.

"Master! Why?! How have I displeased you?!"

"Be quiet." His words reined her back. "This is not a punishment. You will inherit the shfi'nyl, and when you do, you will leave with these journals, and you will continue to learn from them for I will not be able to do so personally. All you need to do, is exactly what I say."

The look he gave told her he was awaiting an answer which she quickly replied: "Of course, master!"

"Good. Know that you will be on your own for years, but never too far that I won't be able to take your life were you to betray me."

"I would never!"

"I would hope so."

Before she could even react, Erik grabbed her by the throat, and a pitch-black miasma materialized from his fingertips, as though his nails were bleeding. It quickly filled the air like smoke, being inhaled through her nostrils.

Her senses began to dull as pain began to envelop her from the very bottom of her soul. She began to black out. The last thing she heard was the voice of her master telling her: "With this, you will be given the name most aptly suited to you. A servant, truly loyal: Marasia."

By the next few days, the cellar would be cleaned out, the contents burned deep in the forest, the pits filled in, and all evidence erased.

Winter had passed and it was now the season of spring. The time for Erik to depart for school had come, and with his bags packed in the carriage, and a solemn farewell from his family accompanied by heartfelt hugs, he boarded the carriage to leave with a house guard who would be his escort.