An Old Acquaintance

Alastor held his pounding head as Dagora excused himself and took the dusters away, directing them to a new destination.

"One problem after another." He complained, though it was difficult to take the dusters all that seriously.

However, a grim expression washed over him as his senses were triggered, sensing the arrival of something...Familiar.

"Problems tend to happen when you run your own organization."

Before he could react, a soft and almost comforting laugh could be heard, reverberating as if it came inches away from his ears:

"I prefer a one-man show. Then again, a throne is a pretty nice perk of your trade."

Spinning around, Alastor saw a man playfully twirling a cane. His complexion was plain, with a clean-shaven chin and dark pupils. Dressed in a fashionable tuxedo of black and white, with both a top hat and monocle to match, the man boasted a strange fashion sense as he paced around the throne with an analytical eye.

The sudden appearance was bizarre, as was the location. Yet, Alastor didn't hold any shock at the sight. His mind only drifted to when he told Dagora of a certain mess.

Well...That mess was now here.

"Look at this craftsmanship!" Praising, he slapped his walking stick against the backrest with a sharp thud. "A shame about the nasty scar. You should really get this patched up. Hmm...However, it does lend itself to the aesthetic."

If any of Alastor's servants saw the disrespect shown, they would immediately expect their Master to behead the cretin with cold cruelty.

No—they would have done it first. Their Lord's hands need not be sullied by an unworthy kill.

Yet, Alastor could only swallow his criticism when he witnessed the intruder's identity. 

After all, he was no stranger. 

He was also no friend.

"Welcome, Fides." Alastor's stance became stiff, the greeting forced between clenched teeth. "I was not aware of your arrival."

Fides gave a bright smile and approached Alastor with arms outstretched.

"Forgive me. I hope my presence hasn't caused an issue. Sensing the return of a long-time partner...Well, surely you can't blame me for rushing over."

Silence enveloped the two as Alastor struggled to find the right response.

Too long, apparently, as Fides chose to change the topic: "That spirit—Dagora, they seem rather excellent. It must be nice to have a confidant still around."

"...They are a loyal subject. Much like the others."

"Perhaps more loyal than you give credit. I have yet to see another like them, at least in your manor."

Despite the superficial lauding of his servant, Alastor was no fool. The undermining implications were not unnoticed. 

"It seems the speed of my servants falls short in comparison to you. As fast and devout as they may be, I cannot fault them for a lack of teleportation. Given more time, a more lively place would have greeted you."

A top hat swayed left and right as Fides shook his head: "Your confidence is impressive; a shame it may be misplaced. I do not wish to see a friend disappointed."

"I would sooner question your motives, rather than my subjects' loyalty." Alastor sneered. "Enough games: tell me, what is your goal?"

"My goal? What, do you think I'm here to play mind games? No, no, no. Those are for enemies. And you, sir! You are no enemy. You are a client. And what businessman would I be if I didn't provide an after-sale service? Now—"

Fides slammed the tip of his cane against the ground, an act that summoned a wave of darkness pulsing over the room and washing over the plethora of corpses. The murky ink subsided like the ocean's tide, leaving a floor barren of the bodies that once existed.

Fides let out a slight hum, not quite done creating a suitable environment. He let down his cane once more.

Two chairs and a simple table materialized at his call, with Fides beckoning a stone-faced Alastor to take a seat.

"—Let's talk."

...

"Hmm."

Alastor watched as Fides held his chin in thought, gently tapping two fingers on the table between them.

They had spoken much. Alastor had, at least. His sealed state, the battle, and the discovery of missing pages.

He had laid it all bare before the man before him. 

Did he do it with glee? Far from it. But Alastor had no choice.

Such was the power of the lender...And that of a devil.

"Interesting." Fides eventually muttered, eyes glimmering underneath a crystal monocle.

"On one hand, you might be the luckiest demon alive. As for the other...Well," He chuckled. "Let's just say the world always finds a way to balance the scale."

"...Indeed."

"Be as it may, I'm afraid I must be the one to tip it further against your favor.

"We had a deal. A perfectly written, crystal-clear deal. You asked for a hefty investment, Alastor. In return, you made some serious promises. Normally, I don't entertain promises at all. Do you know what I give everyone who tries? I gave them a good laugh and a finger. Oh—sorry. Took a finger."

His smile morphed into a brief cackle at his own joke, before shifting to a more somber expression.

"But you...The things you said were even more insane! Despite that, the deal went through. Do you know why?"

A memory of bleached pages and a feathered quill from ages passed entered Alastor's mind, nodding in response. "I gave you my word." 

"Heh. Close, but quite different. In truth, I believed you could deliver."

Speeches and Competency: there was a wide gulf between the two. Words meant nothing to Fides. In all of his dealings, what led to his decisions was not truly logic or reason.

A strong intuition was his guiding hand. During that day, when some unnamed creature approached him, something called out to him.

"Strength, confidence, willpower, all of it led to a convincing argument. But what convinced me wasn't any of those qualities. No, your eyes burned with such fierceness that even I almost believe the world would sooner burn before the light went out. But now..." Fides waved an unsure hand through the air.

Despite his attempt at a reserved demeanor, Alastor's eyes took on a disapproving look. 

King or no king, he was aware that he held no power in this conversation. Outside of his individual strength, there was little for him to lean on. 

But he held his own pride. 

Pride in himself. His subjects.

But above all, had pride—no, he had trust in his own resolve.

"My word still holds true. Tell me, Fides. Do you see a man wallowing in misery? A thousand years have passed, but my knees remain unbent. My kingdom may be bereft of life. Coffers dry as the land surrounding us. Halls without the devout steps of subjects. Yet, here I stand."

Confidence once lost flowed back into the depths of his soul. Did Fides think he would waver in the face of something so small?

A mouthful of pearly teeth reflected in Fides' monocle: proof of a sneer curling Alastor's lips.

'How insulting.'

From the day he decided to walk this path, he never held the advantage. Did it stop him from nearly bringing his enemies to their knees?

No. 

This was not the end; it was a second chance. One resembled the beginning of his journey.

"So long as I still exist, there is a chance. All I need is more time. And...Perhaps...A sliver of grace from your end."

Fides leaned back in the seat and crossed his arms, looking Alastor up and down all the while.

"You ask for more?"

Alastor leaned forward, presenting his own aura as a devilish grin threatened to consume him. "I ask for the contract to be amended." 

"That requires the consent of both parties. Do you expect me to oblige, even after making my stance clear?"

"I think your true stance is different than you've let on. I am not one to forget my promises. I also know the value of what has been promised. And what I can offer you is something no one else could ever give."

Fides didn't show it, but Alastor knew his point had been made. Still, he wasn't done sinking the nail in the coffin just yet.

"It is my turn to ask: If I do accomplish what I've set out to do. If all my promises become reality...Would it only be equal to the book you so graciously lent?"

Simmering, he paused to let his argument sink in before acknowledging the latent issues with a shrug.

"Maybe you're right. Perhaps it is too late. But the mere chance of success is worth giving your all to me. I do not ask for much. All I need is knowledge: of countries, people, and history as a whole. This is what I need. 

"Offer me this, and I swear the Compendium will be returned whole. Even if my prior promises are revealed to be nothing but a hollow wish, on my honor, this much will be achieved."

The air was awash with the brewing emotion, made evident by a visceral—if intangible—battle of the spirit taking place.

Neither was willing to back down. 

No, that wasn't true.

Alastor reminded himself of the person's nature before him, well aware of their true goals.

The mask Fides refused to take off was merely an exercise of latent pride. 

It would slip eventually.

As the seconds passed and the flaming energy subsided, the time to fold finally came.

A tense look came over Fides as turned away from the fiery pair of violet gems.

A gloved hand reached out. It held up three fingers.

"...Three—no, one year. You have one year to have all the pages in order. If you can't achieve this, forget about any of your grand schemes."

"Please accept my gratitude. You will not be disappointed." Alastor willfully stated.

Scoffing, Fides rose from his seat and adjusted his black hat. "I prefer my book unharmed. But until then, I'll make do with your thanks."

He proceeded to walk away from the table. However, a baritone voice halted him in his tracks: "I'm not sure where you plan on going; we still have unfinished business."

"...Whatever do you mean?"

"Need I remind you? A lot has happened in the past years. While I could blindly fumble about, is that really best suited for your goals?"

Fides turned back around with a bright smile, though the corners of his mouth held a slight twitch.

"You are just unbearable, aren't you?"