Diabolical - Chapter 10 (Patreon)

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Their breakfast had concluded, and Arthur was now on his way to meet his tutor. ‘I wonder what they’re going to teach me…?’ He thought. He was sure the lessons weren’t going to provide him with valuable information --- that would be counterproductive.

He’d realized how much his ignorance was hampering him, and had drawn a conclusion --- the mansion’s inhabitants were keeping him in the dark because they knew, if he didn’t understand anything, he’d be unable to come up with countermeasures. Also, it made him even more sure that he wasn’t being groomed to inherit the household --- if he was, then he would have needed to know the truth.

Arthur’s lips curled into a small frown. ‘Whatever they have in store for me, it seems they can’t put their plans into action just yet. I’m sure they’re either waiting or preparing for something.’ He thought.

It was the presence of the Vermes (the true name for the thaumaturgical splinters, written in the Libre Maleficia) that substantiated his guess --- it’d been purposefully injected into his Anima. From what he’d read in the book, Anima was the essence, spirit or soul, through which an occultist manipulated the physical word --- his Mystica was a possible representation of the same.

Whatever the reason, he was sure it was part of their preparations. ‘Nothing in the book provided me with clues as to why they’d done it. If I look at the tablet, my value for Maleficia is only [ 0.3 ]. I already knew it, but that is definite proof that the tome wasn’t complete.’ He summarized.

It was a nasty guess on his part that unveiled the truth. ‘The ‘Libre Maleficia’ doesn’t mention it outright, but the ‘Vermes’ give me the impression of being some sort of codependent, thaumaturgic organism --- it reinforces the host’s ‘Anima’ in return for… shelter? Sustenance? I don’t know…’ He wondered, letting his thoughts flow freely.

Abrutply, he heard a sound in his mind, like chalk scratching on a blackboard. Suddenly, ‘Maleficia’ underwent a change --- it’s value increased from [ 0.3 ] to [ 0.35 ], representing his growing understanding of the skill.

Arthur was so shocked that he stopped in his tracks. His pupils widened and dread pooled in his stomach. It’d just been idle speculation --- he hadn’t expected to be right! ‘You can’t be serious…!!’ He thought. Knowing that he really was stuffed full of magical parasites was enough to send him into a panic.

The butler, who’d been escorting Arthur to his destination, noticed his oddity. “Is something wrong, young master?” He asked, turning his head to look at the ten-year-old boy standing behind him.

Arthur was as pale as a sheet, but outwardly his expression remained unchanged. His fight-or-flight response tended to default to ‘freeze’ --- it was a helpful instinct, since it served to conceal his distress.

‘That’s why the tablet reacted that way…!!!’ He realized. If it had just been another skill like ‘Spontanea Evocatio’, then it wouldn’t have needed to defend him. However, since it was some kind of invasive entity, the reaction made sense. ‘…but how? How on earth did those inscriptions do that…?!’ He thought. It made no sense --- there was a big difference between an actual organism and a few scratched, squiggly lines!

Fortunately, he was able to calm down quickly. ‘At least I can rely on the tablet to suppress the outbreak --- my ‘Potentia’ has grown from [ 0.2] to [ 0.3 ]. The defenses only consumed [ 0.1 ] last time --- my reserves should be more than enough.’ He deliberated.

After he’d collected himself, he reassured the manservant. “I was just lost in thought for a moment, Mr. Fetcher. We can continue.” He said with overt calm.

The butler nodded, looking like he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. “We wouldn’t want to be late. It was the madam who organized it for you --- it wouldn’t do to disappoint her.” He said placidly.

Arthur could read between the lines --- he was being told to stop dilly-dallying and to get on with it. “Yes.” He said simply, falling into step behind the butler.

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A thirty-something man with curly, black hair and a luxurious moustache quietly waited in an empty room. He was sitting in a comfortable chair, casually sipping a cup of coffee. He had a serene, erudite look about him, but inwardly he was unsettled.

He casually paged through a history book. ‘It seems I’ve successfully infiltrated the household!’ He thought. The more he saw of the place, the more convinced he became that his suspicions weren’t unfounded.

About two years ago, he’d been visiting a friend of his in Britain. He himself was an archaeologist and a historian, and often attended meetings with colleagues to discuss new theories or discoveries. He hadn’t intended to get involved with the magical world at that time --- he desired normalcy, now and then (goodness knows, he got precious little of it, as it were). However, during that visit, he’d detected a worrisome anomaly; a mystical signature that was extremely familiar to him.

Suddenly, while he was in the middle of his inner monologue, a voice spoke inside his mind. ‘BE ON YOUR GUARD. THE FORCES OF EVIL DO NOT REST.’ It said; its tone had a metallic tinge to it, like its vocal chords were cast out of bronze.

The man, Kent Nelson, wasn’t startled --- the entity had been by his side since he was fourteen, and he was used to it by now. ‘The forces of evil my not rest, but I do. In fact, I require it.’ He said plainly.

The voice ignored him and continued. ‘NOW THAT I HAVE DISARMED THE WARDS, I AM SURE OF IT --- DARKNESS SLUMBERS HERE. YOU MUST MAINTAIN CAUTION!’ It said, like a father reminding their child not to take their hands off the steering wheel.

Kent was alarmed. ‘You disarmed the wards…?!’ He said, feeling like he was about to start a rant. However, before he could finish his tirade, the voice interrupted him.

‘CALM YOURSELF, NELSON, AND DO NOT PROJECT YOUR IGNORANCE ONTO ME. MY UNDERSTANDING OF THE ARTS FAR EXCEEDS YOUR OWN.’ The voice said derisively.

The archaeologist sighed and rubbed his temples --- dealing with Nabu always gave him a headache. ‘That’s not what I mean and you know it! I just don’t understand why you don’t warn me before you do these kinds of things!’ He said internally. It was an argument they’ve had many times, but it never went anywhere.

Nabu was unimpressed. ‘NATURALLY, I HAVE MY OWN DESIGNS. IT IS ENOUGH FOR YOU TO KNOW THAT, WHEN THE TIME COMES, I WILL APPEAR AND EXTERMINATE THIS INFESTATION.’ The entity said, giving little consideration to its host.

Kent pinched in nose in frustration. ‘The evil you detected --- is it a servant of chaos?’ He asked, brushing aside their quarrel for the time being. One of them had to be the bigger man, proverbially speaking, or they wouldn’t get anywhere.

The presence inside the helm (which he’d worn for this excursion; it would be too unsafe otherwise) was quiet for a moment before it spoke. ‘…I AM UNCERTAIN. FURTHER INVESTIGATION IS REQUIRED.’ It said.

The scholar nodded inwardly. ‘It’s a lucky thing --- I almost didn’t get this post; their requirements were very exacting.’ He said to Nabu, feeling more nervous as time passed and his new ‘student’ remained absent. He’d been here since last night --- given how out-of-the-way the property was, room-and-board was provided. He’d received a private, detached cottage, located near the edge of the woods.

He thought back to his arrival yesterday --- the manservant had picked him up from the station. They’d insisted; in any other context, it would’ve been a considerate gesture, but, now that he was here, he felt they wanted him to be as dependent as possible.

His rest had been pleasant enough. Not only that, but dinner had been brought to him. He hadn’t stepped foot in the mansion until today. The first thing that'd struck him upon entering was how dark it was --- he’d mentioned it to madam, and she’d informed him that they didn’t have electricity, and that they were worried about fire, so they didn’t keep the lanterns lit.

It seemed reasonable enough, given how abundantly lavish their property was, but Nabu had immediately detected a few abnormalities. ‘THIS WOMAN IS A SOUL PUPPET. IN FACT, ALL THE SERVANTS ARE CONSTRUCTS.’ It had said, after the conversation with the ‘woman’ had concluded. It was good that he did, because Kent would have jumped out of his skin if he’d said it in the moment. They all looked so real!

Abruptly, there was a knock on the door. He quickly snapped out of it and directed his attention to the portal. When it opened, two figures were revealed --- it was the butler with a young boy by his side.

Kent quickly stood and greeted the two of them. “How do you do? I am Kent Nelson --- I will be tutoring you from today onwards.” He said, sticking out his hand towards the lad. He may have jumped the gun a bit, but it was out of nervousness.

Kent gave the boy a brief once-over. He wasn’t particularly short or tall for his age, but he was on the thin side, from what the archaeologist could see of his face. His hair was dirty-blonde and his eyes were a light-brown colour. He was pale, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary --- Britain wasn’t the sunniest place in the world.

The lad returned his greeting. “I’m Arthur. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.” He said, taking the offered hand.

The moment their fingers touched, Kent detected an almost imperceptible change in the youth. He could sense the tension draining out of him; his handshake, which had been limp and cautious, became firm and enthusiastic. It was a strange thing to witness.

Arthur’s felt the stiffness retreat from his neck and shoulders, and his lips involuntarily turned upwards. ‘Thank goodness! This is an actual human being, at least.’ He thought, feeling relieved. He’d expected some kind of poorly-disguised creature for a tutor.

For a handful of seconds, the two individuals silently analysed each other. Their facades were both genial and unoffensive, but neither truly knew what the other was thinking.

It was Mr. Fetcher who broke the silence. “I must take my leave, I’m afraid. I’ll return once the lessons are finished --- the miss would like you to join her in the garden, this afternoon.” He said, directing the statement at Arthur.

The boy nodded. He was looking forward to spending more time with his mother; since their arrival, they hadn’t met outside the dining room. “Yes, thank you.” He said.

When the butler exited the room and the door closed behind him, Kent spoke. “I thought we’d start off with French --- it’s always good to know the language of those you’ll be having dealings with.” He said, walking over to the podium.

Arthur had already surveyed the room; it was a lecture hall, as well equipped as any he’d ever seen. Rows of desks lined the floor --- enough to seat thirty-odd people, by his estimation. Filled bookshelves covered the walls --- the manuals' covers were sleek and beautiful.

In his previous life, he’d a wealthy uncle who owned a collection of the ‘Encyclopaedia Britannica’. These gave him a similar impression, although there were far more volumes. He supposed this much shouldn’t surprise him, given what he’d already seen, but he couldn’t help it.

He looked toward his lecturer, who stood with his back to a smooth, shiny blackboard. The dark surface was spotless --- it seemed like it’d never been used. “The English have dealings with the French?” He asked jokingly.

Kent smiled genially. “You’d be surprised how quickly historical disagreements are forgotten when there’s money to be made.” He said, paging through a book before turning and writing a sentence on the blackboard.

“I’ve been told that you’ve no experience with the language, but that’s all-right. The purpose of this course is basic proficiency only --- once you’re able to speak and read simple sentences, I will consider it as mission accomplished.” He said.

When he’d finished writing, he abruptly turned. “Ah, but if you have any questions about me before we start, feel free to ask.” He said, adjusting the round spectacles on his nose.

Arthur’s eyebrows rose. He was becoming more sure of the fact that this guy was a recent hire --- if he’d been a part of the estate’s staff, he wouldn’t have been so open. ‘What did they tell you when they hired you?’ was what he wanted to ask, but he thought that would sound too strange. “Are you a lecturer by profession?” He asked instead.

Kent fiddled with his tie before speaking. “I am a researcher, mainly. However, I regularly present to undergraduates.” He said, clarifying his position.

Arthur’s confusion returned. ‘This guy seems like the real deal. Again, I don’t understand why the old woman is doing this... Is it just a scheme to keep me occupied?’ He thought. ‘I guess even animals raised for slaughter are let out of the barn, now and then.’ He concluded, deciding that his guess was probably not far from the truth.

If that were the case, it would put him at ease. At the very least, it meant that whatever they were waiting or preparing for wouldn’t arrive soon --- that they were putting effort into pacifying him suggested a long-term plan. What he wanted most was to seclude himself in his room and develop his Thaumaturgy, not participate in useless lessons that didn’t help his situation. Their assumptions about what he desired were completely incorrect --- it was almost funny, in a way. They could've saved themselves the effort.

Kent rapped his knuckles on the podium, rousing Arthur from his thoughts. “If there’s anything else, you needn’t keep it to yourself.” He said good-naturedly.

The youth realized he’d been staring into space for an unknown amount of time --- it was an act that he found himself repeating, recently. There were so many things on his mind that he just couldn’t help himself. “Uhm, to be honest, I was wondering why you applied for this…?” He asked. Newcastle was hardly an exciting place and, on top of that, the Grimm estate was located in the middle of nowhere. There would be no social life here, and no entertainment.

The tutor thoughtfully stroked his moustache before answering. “…the pay is very good.” He said simply, giving Arthur a guileless smile.

The boy snorted involuntarily. “Are you sure you don’t want to give a different answer? ’Why, I simply felt called to teach. Youths like yourself are the future, you know’ --- something like that would’ve sounded much nobler.” He said, waving his hand mock-pretentiously.

Kent raised an eyebrow. “…you’re very mature for your age.” He remarked dryly.

Arthur thanked him with a flourish. “I appreciate it.” He said, giving a half-bow. He usually wasn’t this energetic, but he hadn’t been able to have a proper conversation since his arrival; whether it was the maid, the butler or his grandmother --- he wasn’t able to relax while they were around.

The archaeologist hummed to himself. “…I’m not sure it was a compliment. Growing up quickly isn’t always a good thing…” He remarked. The way he’d said it made it seem like he was speaking from experience. He stood still for a moment, as if he were reliving old memories. Eventually, he returned to the present. “Alright then, since it seems you’re out of questions, I’ll start the lesson.” He said, indicating to the sentence he'd written in French.

As was the case when one was busy, time passed quickly. Despite himself, Arthur became immersed. Learning a new language wasn’t necessarily an exciting prospect --- rather than that, it was studying itself, like slipping on an old, familiar glove, that comforted him and provided a sense of normalcy.

It went without saying, but Kent didn’t really have an interest in teaching Arthur --- his reason for taking the job was far more serious. However, as time passed, he found himself developing a sense of respect for the boy. It wasn’t anything he did; rather than that, it was what he didn’t do: his attention never wavered, nor did he grow restless. He engaged with the lecture until it concluded, about four hours later. It was impressive, given his age.

“That’ll be it for today.” Said he, closing his manual before clearing away the writing on the board. “From tomorrow onwards, you and I will speak only French. Of course, if you don’t understand something, I’ll help you translate it.” He stated, tucking the book under his arm and walking over to Arthur.

The boy nodded in acceptance. “Thank you for the lesson, Sir. Although, I think we finished early --- Mr. Fetcher isn’t here yet.” He said politely.

Kent rubbed his chin, apparently thinking about something. ‘I won’t get anywhere by being passive --- this could be an opportunity for me.’ He thought. Having decided on a course of action, he spoke. “Why don’t you and I head for the garden? I’m sure we’ll run into the butler on our way there --- if you don’t mind me joining you, that is.” He said with a smile. Now was as good a time as any to get a lay of the land, or so he thought.

His offer both worried Arthur and made him feel embarrassed. “Ehm, actually I only arrived yesterday. I don’t know where the garden is.” He said, trying to dissuade the man from doing something reckless. He’d no idea what lurked in the bowls of this mansion, and he didn’t want to find out!

Kent almost couldn’t keep the excitement off his face. ‘That’s perfect! That way, if they find us wandering around, we’ll have a good excuse!’ He realized. “Oh, don’t worry --- I’m sure we’ll find our way. Besides, a young fellow like yourself should have a sense of adventure! Why, when I was your age, I got into all kinds of trouble!” He said enthusiastically.

The scholar’s words were horrifying to Arthur's ears. However, before he could offer further protest, an arm was suddenly slung over his shoulder and he was lead out of the room.

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