The concert ended as the sun was rising, with figures pouring out of the main gate like a school of fish. The gentleman found a clear spot to stretch his own limbs, as Ariana's singing still grated on the nerves as ever.
The gentleman looked down at the grass to see if he had lost any Bone Powder.
"Where is the Plague Doctor?" Ariana emerged from backstage.
"He left before you finished singing the first song."
"He left? Why?"
The gentleman flexed his knuckles to make sure they were not excessively worn.
"He said it was due to dietary-induced discomfort, of course, that's an excuse. The real reason, I suppose, is hard to say."
"Has he discovered something?" Ariana's veil turned towards the direction of the teleportation array; it was prime time for Andrey members to leave, the peak of off hours.
"What?"
"My bewitching him with my singing."
"Ariana, it's not your fault to make every move brimming with charm; it's your talent. Since you can't actively control this talent, there's no need to shoulder the guilt it brings. Of course, feeling guilt, for us, is not a bad thing."
"..." The gentleman watched Ariana, who was standing there with her head down, looking dejected, which only added to her allure.
"Personally, I think the Plague Doctor's departure is not because of you. The Plague Doctor is quite special; perhaps he is in a tight spot in his external life, but he behaves with the dignity of a noble. Although he lacks etiquette at times, his presence is contradictory and interesting. His manner of speaking bears a noble's pride, yet, he also displays a sense of inadequacy in his abilities based on what he's witnessed in Andrey."
"I am more inclined to think that the Plague Doctor politely refused to accept your kindness without reason; after all, Ariana's sweet singing can be considered a grand gift. Trust me, once the Plague Doctor displays his knowledge and becomes a part of the Guild of Extravagance, he will gladly accept your singing."
"No, he won't."
"Why? I think my analysis is quite reasonable."
"Intuition."
"..." The gentleman gazed at Ariana, who was brimming with confidence in her own opinion, feeling like he was in the presence of a formidable queen. Sometimes women are just illogical.
"You are right, Your Majesty Queen Ariana."
"Silver-tongued."
"Your Majesty, where are your suitors? Usually, by now, they would be kneeling before you with bunches of nightshade in hand. What excuse did you use to reject them today?"
"I only like women who like men."
The gentleman stood there, dumbstruck, for a while.
...
By the time the sun peeked out with a hint of dawn, Lyle returned home safe and sound.
Passing by the graveyard, he had been apprehensive for a moment, afraid that Ariana's ghost might still linger there, waiting for him as she said, which his body, already ravaged by its genuine counterpart, could hardly have withstood a second onslaught from a ghostly doppelgänger.
When he saw the neat rows of cross gravestones, Lyle was genuinely relieved.
On his way, he avoided a hardworking dairy farmer and a sheriff who yawned and overlooked his presence in the alley.
After locking the front door, he peeled off his Plague Doctor work attire, and fatigue finally bested him.
In a state of half-sleep, Lyle slipped the Andrey ring directly onto his finger from the leather glove; it represented his future, and with that, he drifted off into an oblivious slumber.
He didn't notice that the Andrey ring, which touched his skin, changed its light blue emblem to a bloody crimson.
...
Lyle woke up again at noon, a new day starting with the compulsion of hunger.
The morning vendor cries had long since departed, and now the noise outside his door was made up of horse hooves and footsteps.
Lyle stirred his bread stick in his soup spoon, still appearing listless.
He couldn't go on like this; if he were to spend entire evenings at Andrey, plus his day job as a sheriff, Lyle was neither iron man nor a research fanatic for Andrey.
It seemed he had to plan his time spent at Andrey more sensibly, based on last night's experience, which seemed relatively free.
Although Andrey was the place he wanted to linger, he had to restrain himself, and such was reality.
After hastily finishing his meal, Lyle decided to go back to sleep to replenish his energy. The ring from Andrey had been left aside while dealing with the food, as he was too dazed to care at the time.
Fortunately, the light blue emblem was distinctive enough that Lyle spotted the ring on a shelf inside a cabinet, alongside the Plague Doctor's uniform.
Lyle slept until the sun was setting.
It was still daylight outside, but since he did not need to go out tonight, Lyle planned to head to Andrey early.
After getting dressed in his uniform and making sure the doors and windows were secure, he pressed the light blue emblem.
A pulling force emanated from the ring on his index finger.
An invisible vortex was forming, and Lyle felt himself stretched into a noodle, being squeezed into the vortex.
...
Lyle saw the familiar Crystal Lamp, and he noticed that the glow on the main body of the lamp was moving—it was a slightly larger light bat, just a bit bigger than an onion.
Lyle realized he had forgotten the agreed-upon carrots.
A massive figure cast the carrots aside, it was a three-meter-long dragon with scales, double wings on its back... and in a costume.
The dragon's head nodded lightly with its neck, and a mild, mature male voice came from the costume, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Plague Doctor."
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Dragon." If Lyle couldn't recognize him, he would need to get his brain checked.
Mr. Dragon, with his peculiar and unusual attire.
Mr. Dragon reached out and picked up Lyle, showing off the strong muscle power of that adorably fashioned large dragon claw.
Mr. Dragon was indeed a large figure, truly befitting the name 'big chunk'.
"The gentleman is busy with other clubs, and Alianna will be spending time on music. They told me about you, and it's fortunate that you will be the audience for my first lesson, as I had arrived early to wait at the club, otherwise, I might have missed this transfer."
"My apologies for the trouble, sir."
"No trouble at all, no trouble. It's good to keep a passion for life; I really admire your approach."
Mr. Dragon was a personable elder, as adorable in his costume as he was dignified.
"Please wait a moment, Mr. Plague Doctor. There's still a little time before the lesson starts, and before that, I need to clean up my own mess," Mr. Dragon said.
Mr. Dragon bent over and began to tidy up the several mountains of gold behind the door.
"Mr. Gentleman came to complain to me once; I didn't expect that it seems I've caused quite a hassle for everyone in the club. Such negligence on my part."
Someone who will be your teacher/boss/senior in the future is dealing with something you could help with, right in front of you, although he hasn't asked for assistance.
"Can I help, Mr. Dragon?" Lyle walked over to Mr. Dragon's side. "If it's just cleaning up, I think I can manage."
Only then did Mr. Dragon seem to consider this option, "Oh, Mr. Plague Doctor, you really are a kind person," Mr. Dragon handed him a large leather pouch. "If you can help me properly store these shiny items, I'd be very grateful."
The material of the pouch was quite coarse, somewhat like snake skin, extra-large size, but still not enough compared to several mountains of gold.
Lyle didn't voice his doubts, just quietly continued cleaning, perhaps these were items that belonged to a space storage.
The two of them were busy for about an hour until Lyle's bones started creaking from bending over so often, by which time all the treasures had been tidied away.
Lyle's bag was only half full—this pouch definitely had a spatial storage function.
"Here you go, Mr. Dragon," Lyle handed the pouch back.
"Thank you again, Plague Doctor, without your help, I would have been busy for a while longer."
Yes, maybe just a minute or two longer, Lyle thought to himself, once again shocked by Mr. Dragon's physical prowess—truly the strength of a dragon, swift and nimble, most of the cleanup was done by Mr. Dragon, and Lyle wondered if he was being lazy by comparison.
"You helped me, and I thank you for that, Plague Doctor. How about I give you this as your reward?"
Mr. Dragon pulled a gold crown studded with diamonds out of the pouch. Lyle had glanced at it a few times while cleaning; it looked incredibly expensive.
Fine by me.
Lyle really wanted to say that.
"It's too valuable, sir. The light work I've done doesn't merit such an extravagant reward."
"Ah, it seems Mr. Plague Doctor's desire is wealth, we might have different values. Please believe me, your kindness to me is certainly not inferior to this gift."
So touching, then I shall reluctantly accept it, Mr. Dragon.
Lyle couldn't do it.
"No, Mr. Dragon, I still couldn't accept it," he replied.
Mr. Dragon's claw touched the location of his reverse scale—his chin.
"Hmm, shall we find an equivalent? Mr. Plague Doctor, how about twenty gold coins as your compensation, like this?
Mr. Dragon picked up a gold coin.
It was an Oliou.
A trading currency gold coin from the Ancient Roman Empire.
An Oliou could be exchanged for twenty-five silver dinar coins, and one dinar could be exchanged for four bronze Sestertius coins.
The trading currency in Lyle's Cassandra was a bronze coin called Yule, and without considering the collector's value of ancient coins, one Sestertius could be traded for three Yules.
Twenty Olious, six thousand Yules.
A sheriff's salary, two hundred Yules a month.
Clean up and get two and a half years' salary in hand?
And besides, an Oliou representing the glory of the Roman Empire could command a hefty premium in century-old transactions.
Mr. Dragon, generous and charitable, seeing money as mere dirt?