Chapter Text
v.
Neither of them are the most forbearing witches in this whole world; it is an acquiescence that he’s agreed upon for a long, long time now. It is one of the reasons why Olruggio doesn’t want to have an apprentice, or disciple, and also one of the reasons why it is better for him to just work alone in general instead of teaming up with other witches.
It’s one of the reasons why Olruggio doesn’t mind living with Qifrey, isolated and elsewhere except within or near the Great Hall’s vicinity, because, whilst he knows that there’s no other liberation quite like the liberty of ceaselessly underestimated, Olruggio still knows about one’s limit and is viciously selective when it comes to boundaries.
Both of them are relentless because they’re far from unwise. Both of them also know the other’s forfeit in the past, which is why, regrettably, above all else, he understands if all that Qifrey saw was red when he came across a member of Brimmed Hats in the middle of his own apprentices’ Second Test in the Serpentback Cave.
Sure, it is perceivable for Qifrey to run after them and get his hands on what they’ve taken away from him much closer, much sooner. And more than anyone, Olruggio can see this with the most clarity. Qifrey's hatred is an eternal flame that he can't seem to water down the drain, ever, and moreover, it is not a substance that will submit under Olruggio's command, even if he tries. So, despite being notified that it was the Brimmed Hats who attacked first, Olruggio knows Qifrey's decision on indulging his obsession in crisis is hell-bent wrong.
No one should normalize blind rage as an acceptable excuse that got the best of someone, who's a grown adult and especially used to be one of the three sages' disciple too, by the way, to the point of almost neglecting the safety of their own students (see, they’re not even Olruggio’s students. They’re officially Qifrey’s). Because whatever pent-up grudge and rooted resentment, and no matter how monstrous they are, they should never be justified as something that is uncontrollable. Witches have been sworn to take the oaths for this; to secure the balance of peace of the world;
They both have talked and even argued about it.
And if anything, they also both have gone through a lot and so much together; they even nearly lost each other or taken away from one another countless times. This is why Olruggio is abusing every right for himself to be livid at his best friend, and this is also why Olruggio loathes himself more than he can hate Qifrey.
Perhaps under different circumstances, Olruggio would’ve let him go if he's much prepared and battle-hardened and has nothing else to lose. And perhaps in those different circumstances, he would’ve granted him the wish of running havoc to those who’ve wronged him in the past, the moment the opportunity is grasped, and helped him with all his might, knowledge, and allies on his side.
Right now, at least the four girls are safe, unharmed and sleeping soundly. They’re not traumatized, are they? Olruggio slows down in his strutting while pacing the room, deliberating. They don’t look like they are, hopefully. I mean, aside from that they, particularly Coco, are most likely concerned with Qifrey being bedridden… Sinocia also has done everything as best as she could, so I suppose Beldaruit won’t mind if -
“Olruggio, the lavatory still hasn’t moved from the spot you last visited here, you know.” Sinocia’s voice snaps his attention back to reality. She just ordered Ermile to put the girls to bed in extra rooms for guests, and apparently has finished moving Qifrey to a private room as well with the help of other nurses. “You look constipated. Just go already, your movements are making me antsy.”
Olruggio frowns, and wipes the expression on his face although it’s no use. “I’m not constipated,” he says with a sigh. “How is Qifrey? Can I go see him now?”
“I told you, he’ll be fine.” Sinocia hushes, because she notices that Lulucy has also fallen asleep, holding the brushbug on her lap like a therapeutic comforter. “Give him some time to settle down first. The energy from a patient’s family can be transferred easily, even in their unconscious state. I’m pretty sure you’ve learnt about it first hand when you were younger and got yourself knocked out for two days straight after some messy incident, right, Olruggio?”
Olruggio purses his lips wryly at the memory. He did get trapped in the limbo of many peculiar dreams that time, all because he kept hearing Qifrey’s voice trying to reach out to him. His master wasn’t there at the time, if he remembers correctly. The fever lasted for quite a while, with Beldaruit who got there not any sooner to finally drag Qifrey away from him; keep him preoccupied with something else instead of outpouring all his agitation to the unconscious body that was him.
Olruggio still tries. “Even though I won’t say anything at all...?”
“You need to cool yourself down, first.” Sinocia, benevolent that she sometimes is, despite popular beliefs (because Olruggio has spent the majority of his time growing up coming back and forth to get treatment for blisters and the likes. And she, as a person, is a good friend, but she, as a medic, is much, much better), smiles at him. “People tend to be the most sensitive in their vulnerable state. And, according to my experience working here all my life, silence is actually the loudest form of voice. So.”
She steps close and stretches out her hand toward him to give something.
Olruggio, thoughtfully, accepts Qifrey’s glasses.
Years Qifrey had worn them, never once they got damaged, moreover so badly like that. Shards of glass missing from the transparent part, and cracks spider-webbing the entire diameter inside both rims. The clip of the nose bridge veers and is a little bit loose.
“I know that face,” Sinocia mutters, toning down her voice, “You would complain if I tell you to get some rest after you see that, thinking it’ll be unpleasant for Qifrey to wake up and not have them attached to his face, so—” she glances away, “—you might want to repair them now while Lulucy is- I mean, while you have the time before presenting yourself in front of The Great Sage.”
Olruggio praises her with raised brows; a look that says, that doesn’t sound like the worst idea.
He would never entrust Qifrey’s glasses to other witches to be restored and refined; his best friend never took them off except when he’s sleeping at home. And since Olruggio never comes unprepared for anything, whether it’s for something unprompted or on purpose, thanks to grimmy experiences in the past, with his Infinity Space Pouch where he stores his extra equipment to repair something when he’s away from the atelier, Olruggio will repair them himself.
But he needs to not just sit and wait here.
“And what if she wakes up and finds me nowhere in sight?” Olruggio asks, inclining his head to Lulucy’s direction. “You can’t just rat me out like you used to do back in the day, can you now?”
Sinocia fans with her hand, disparaging the premise. “Oh, please. I take into account every dose and elements for all the medicines formulated here down to the very last drop," she boasts with lightness of thousands feathers, "My calculations for the time you need to go and come back here before she’s awake is punctual.”
Olruggio blinks two times, slowly processing that. "What’s that supposed to mean?" he demands when his brain cannot keep up.
"I…" she plants her hands on her hips, twinkling sheepishly, "...will not elaborate."
Weird logic, but okay, Olruggio thinks, diverted.
“Alright, then,” Olruggio mumbles before going. He steals a wistful glance at the direction of where she came from after she transferred Qifrey to another room. Then: “I’ll be right back. If anything happen while I’m gone, Sinocia, you -”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.” Lightly, Sinocia mumbles something along the line ‘and they said Qifrey is more excessive’ under her breath. She moves him to go out. “You know where to go, though, right?” she asks by the doorway of the front, and giggles when Olruggio scoffs; doesn’t miss the way his neck reddens at the implication. “Don’t gallivant around, Olruggio. Remember your kids are waiting for you here.”
“They’re not - my kids,” Olruggio stresses in a mutter, readjusting his hat, flustered. Since when she loves to make innuendos like that? He shakes his head, making a turn to a crowded street, pocketing carefully Qifrey’s glasses next to the inside pocket that contains his glove.
Clear your mind, clear your heart, clear your judgements. Olruggio forgot just how aquamarine this domain is.
He marches onward to the source interspersed conversations and sporadic activities.
Olruggio walks from district to district, where each alleyway narrows in different sectors. A part of him tells to take shortcuts where people are the fewest loitering around; he doesn’t want to be seen by people that know him or would recognize him. However, he needs revelation for his untrodden mind. And, although reminiscing about the past is not something that he likes, he’s still not immune to his melancholic side that picks up and controls his body to go to areas where he spent his childhood with Qifrey as apprentices once.
It starts with passing the shop where Qifrey first got his cloak. Olruggio has been assigned to accompany them, then, and he remembers the interior of the shop that was in full iridescence color theme. And it seems that nothing has changed that much, huh, he thinks as he glances from the big window. Outside looking in, from where he stands, he sees glimpses of the younger Qifrey going through some measurement in front of the mirror, drifting from one spot to another along with the younger him, while Beldaruit waits by the counter and responds to every commentaries by the tailor about how lean and frail looking his disciple is.
Those two are like two peas in a pot; Beldaruit and Qifrey. Nothing seemed to be able to separate them. It didn't take too long for Olruggio to realize that his presence near them, following around, was merely a sign that Qifrey didn't have to crack under surveillance alone most of the time. He had him, another student his age, putting up the best act to relay the message: 'Rest assured, Beldaruit doesn't have a separation issue with you, but the world is beyond imaginable and he has a problem with it'.
Alas, there, younger Olruggio still couldn't help himself but looked outside the window so many times. Wondering how long he had to stay with them, growing wary with the fact that all witches of all ages were drawn to Qifrey's existence beyond his understanding. Young Olruggio only wanted to create things, and practice his magic every day to earn money much sooner than later, and help ease a list of people in his mind. And besides. Laughter and carefreeness did not exist within Qifrey back then, no matter how hard younger Olruggio tried to unwind the tension that always appeared in between his brows and tightened jaw.
Olruggio smiles regardless as he moves on from the shop. Those belong in the past, and Olruggio only looks back just to learn from his mistakes and nothing else.
His friend is now capable of lifting more weights than he is, on a lot of occasions, all thanks to his hobby of cooking manually years past after they left Great Hall. We can’t always have access to everything after all. That’s what Qifrey would often reason with whenever he offered Qifrey aid with his inventions for the chores. Between them, Qifrey is the one who has this type of mindset that not everything he grows accustomed to is outright expandable, no matter how practical he is.
At least, his heuristic friend would smile more often throughout their lives living together now. And even just once, Olruggio still remembers the first time it happened - here of all places.
Olruggio roams and passes another shop in the next intersection—a pawn shop where he first traded his invention to upgrade one of his cloaks into a fireproof one. The first design was imbued with a condensed yet classic magic dye that was used to charm knight’s old-fashioned armors to go to war and rein dragons. It was—infeasible at best, and tacky at worst, yet sadly, it was necessary back in the day and he still remembers why he did it.
There was a location nearby where once a massive fire incident that burned up several buildings in no time took place, starting from an antique store. An incident that was so fatal and bizarre (because, how exactly do you set the realm underwater on fire, for one?) people believed that the fire started under this curse or forbidden object that’s passed by a Brimmed Hat on the surface, through their spiels that eventually affected the witch that came home to this domain after meeting them, to test the theory. Fire as azure as frost, but hotter and much more suffocating, consumed everything it touched (even melted rocks and metals) and trapped a bunch of people inside the blazing buildings.
The incident lasted for nearly the whole day, searing down to the very deep-planted foundations of the buildings. The Knights Moralis couldn’t even absorb the fire with circulation magic at first, and the parchments that they used back then got easily turned to ash. One slick of the flame even managed to backfire the spell — the clever, semi-living flames spiked up and created a passageway for the seawater amidst the mist to inflow and flood the area while he and Qifrey were trying to help.
It was that day where Olruggio found out about Qifrey's ultimate fear; to be drowned alive. No one can really blame him thrashing around when Olruggio tried to get him in the surging billows, and no one should've really blamed them for being reckless out of desperation back then. They used the the ink imbued with nomad shell powder that was bought for Olruggio’s master, to the very last drop of it, and drew glyphs that could suck up non-solid elements to eliminate the power of the azure flame; the water, the fire, and the air.
Because — to summon fire, you’re going to need oxygen as it is one of the elements that still sustains living beings. To diminish fire is to take it away from it.
It happened a lifetime ago, and yet Olruggio can still recall the acidic taste of the smoke mixed with saltwater whenever he remembers about that day. Olruggio smacks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, grimacing at the snippets of it; his lungs burnt and the world spinned. From that day on, Olruggio has learned a couple of things:
One, it is not enough to be able to memorize runes to be a competent witch, but also a durable swimmer for both of them because Qifrey's obsession was awakened (or perhaps worsened?) ever since then, and; two, to live under this aquamarine domain, even though almost all the sea-creatures here are tameable and won’t run havoc unless provoked wrongly first by outsiders to protect the residents within, is not safe enough for scholars like them, who were still growing and only have limited knowledge about the world out there at all.
Certainly Qifrey was lucky enough to have Beldaruit as his master. They didn’t have to go through punishments, for risking the civilians' lives that day, more than doing twice—no, thrice work in community service, all thanks to that eccentric witch. But Olruggio’s master was… quite humiliated, to say the least, for what they’d done—for what Olruggio had decided to save the day, and took on the side of the petition to incriminate them further.
In the end, Olruggio agreed to follow Qifrey to the surface after he managed to emulate the fireproof cloak to have his own style so he doesn’t have to feel embarrassed wearing it in public.
Olruggio stops by the site that has been reconstructed with now many multicolored shops, dots of whales swim serenely overhead, and prays; hope the kids and the people who were nearly becoming the victims of his rashness act that day live a good life now.
In the next turn, the streets are emptier and desolated. His attention gets easily fetched by what his three senses catch like a snatch of whiplash once he enters one of the alleyways.
Bawdy music humming and clashing against the sounds of whistle when he passes brothels there one by one. Men and women compete to entice him from every corner, husked murmurs; he starts to hold his breath when his nose sniffs out strong diverging fragrance in the air. Of course… Olruggio looks down and picks up his pace, avoiding observant eyes amidst all garish decorations to attract customers throughout the alleyway.
“Hey, there, handsome…”
“Oooh, what a fresh new face… wait, he’s a witch, right?”
“Damn, I hope you have a nice day, sweetheart!”
If I ignore them all, they won’t come to me, Olruggio reminds himself over and over until he reaches the only unpretentious building that is an excellent optic shop whose business has been run by a couple of married ladies for a generation now. It’s the optic shop that a senior of his once recommended to Qifrey for his first reading monocle.
In panic and guided by autopilot, somehow, Olruggio seeks refuge there.
The sound of the bell on top of the wooden front door clinks violently when Olruggio gets inside, closing the door too fast because his lungs have begun to demand for air.
And now I gotta make excuses after mindlessly wandering here... Olruggio shakes his head to himself, and swiftly pulls himself back together to ensure his surroundings.
There’s a young man smiling toothy-grin from behind a glossed counter when Olruggio looks at him as if he’s lost.
“Welcome! What can I help you, my good sir?” the young man greets kindly, it stuns Olruggio with striking familiarity. “Do you wish to customize spectacles? If you're new here, sir, you can see the catalogues first. We have more than three hundred and forty seven models of — oh, wait . . .”
The young man trails off, as though he just realizes something. He is taller than Olruggio when he stands up from his seat, and bigger too; bigger but shorter than Ermile, Olruggio is sure.
Olruggio has to restrain himself from backing away when he approaches him, mumbling, “That pointy hat… and that cloak…”
“Uh, do we know each other…?” Olruggio squints in habit, minutely recognizing his features; crooked front teeth, grey-ish eyes, and a scar under the left ear down to the shoulder. “Wait, you . . . ” Then, it hits him. “You’re - you’re the kid, aren’t you?” He snaps his fingers many times to recall just at the same time the man nods and grins at him excitedly. “The kid that the - the. . .” Olruggio thoughtfully picks his choice of words. He’s afraid that the fire incident might trigger something unpleasant from the young man. “Lady, err, madam… Madam Lamia! Madam Lamia is your mother, correct? And you’re also the one who called out to me a couple of months back near the square, right?”
“Oh, it is you! It’s really you!”
All of the sudden, after hearing stomps of heavy footsteps, Olruggio is lifted off the ground, clutched between muscled arms that he can feel his joints crack eerily; he hacks.
“You’re uncle Olly, right? You really are uncle Olly! Wow! Your tassel is different, but your style hasn't changed! Mum would be so pleased to meet you again, after all this time!” he spins Olruggio around like he weighs nothing but goose feathers. “How and where have you been? You disappeared for years! Does it mean you got yourself disciples now? How’s the outside world? You gotta tell me a lot of things, man!”
Olruggio fights for his life and taps on his shoulders briefly. “Ha c-can’t breathe…” he wheezes, purple-faced.
“Oh, sorry!” The man places him down gently, back to his feet again. He lets out a guilty ‘heheheh’ and retreats to the counter again while Olruggio coughs and takes deep breaths. “I’ve been training hard, you see! I wanna be just like Master Easthies and Master Utowin someday. Next year, I'm going to try to register my name as Knight Moralis!" He smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his thumbs.
“Masters, huh,” Olruggio repeats when the world doesn’t blur anymore, carefully straightening his body up. He adjusts the position of his cloak. “Good to know that. You do… look healthier…” he hesitates before closing the distance, taking out Qifrey’s glasses from his pocket, and puts it on top of the glassy countertop. “Mitirim. Yeah, that’s your name, right?”
“You still remember my name?” the young man, Mitirim, asks; looking somewhat unbelieving.
“Of course,” Olruggio answers, smiling evasively, “You were more shy back then, though. More sullen. And not more than the height of my hip.” You’re the boy that my best friend saved and gave him more purpose to learn further about water magic; Olruggio doesn’t say. “Now, look at you.”
“Wow, I… you...” Mitirim quietens, speechless. He chuckles, then. “Well, I couldn’t stay that small forever, though?” He takes Qifrey’s glasses mindfully, observing it with a nostalgic look on his face. “And is this…?”
The smile on Olruggio’s face turns more sincere, almost fond. “No, those aren't mine. My eyes are just as stubborn as I am,” he says. That makes the younger man grin.
Mitirim is studious when he inspects the glasses with his naked eyes first, turning it around to see every aspect and component it has, which is a relief for Olruggio. He pulls out a tool from the drawer behind the glassy counter, and shines the glasses with it. The glasses glow with purple little cracks all over it.
“Ah, this one is tricky,” Mitirim hums, considering. “I’m not sure if I’m just seeing things or just…” Trailing off with a gesture, he tells Olruggio with a reassuring smile and a shrug. “Eh. Be right back!”
“Where are you going?” Olruggio hinders Mitirim when he moves from his seat to bring the glasses to the nearest room with door handles hanging on the wall, just like the ones belonging to Tartah. “I don’t have that much of a time to linger here, actually. Can you — just tell me how long it will take for you to fix it?” Olruggio is halfway thinking to ask him a favor and ‘escort’ him outside, so he doesn’t have to deal with flirtatious prostitutes outside since he has no money to spare for a bit of booze this late noon, but his dignity revolts the idea.
“Oh, it’s just - the usual. The frame is broken, and the shattered glass needs to be replaced,” Mitirim explains nicely, and shows Olruggio the spots of where the cracks are. Up close, Olruggio finally notices that some of the purple lines overlap with the damages. “However. I feel like this one is charmed with glyphs, and I figured something imbued with magic must be refined as well. It might take a while to do the last part, but I’ll try my best to finish it today if that’s okay with you?”
Olruggio regards the glasses with a careful unreadable expression. Of course Mitirim doesn’t know the glasses belong to Qifrey, he was not more than a 4 year-old when he first got adopted by the owners of this optic shop. Qifrey hasn't come back to Great Hall since the day of their independence, and it was Mitirim's mothers who took care of it...
But, did Lamia and her wife even know about that, though? Olruggio can’t help but to wonder. Did they engrave a glyph or something onto Qifrey’s glasses…? But even so... why...?
Why didn’t Qifrey tell him about it?
And for what, too? For what the glyph has to be engraved on the glasses...? It must be something to do with Qifrey’s vision, Olruggio can feel his stomach churning a little at the thought.
At Olruggio’s late response, Mitirim asks again, “Do you really not have that much time to wait, uncle Olly?” The younger man looks at him, concerned.
“Ah, yes... so, maybe that won’t do,” Olruggio says, hesitant and still internalizing Mitirim’s words.
He’s about to get the glasses back once Mitirim tells him that it’s alright, he’s more happy that he can help, before a loud crashing noise startles both of them - coming from outside.
It’s ensued by yellings and obscene words being spat around as if a fight just breaks out. Olruggio whips his head to the source of the noise.
Before Olruggio can even form a syllable to ask what on earth is going on, Mitirim leaps from his seat. “Shit, they’re at it again." Olruggio's jaw hangs when Mitirim mumbles an ‘excuse me’, shoving the glasses back onto the older man’s hands as he leaves Olruggio behind to go outside.
How can Olruggio not tag along, then?
When the door swings open, Olruggio hears booming voices of gruffed men brawling over something - or someone. He follows suit to see a scared woman with her one side of face bloody red as if she just got hit by something, wearing nothing but a long piece of cloth for bedding, got pulled by Mitirim to get behind him as he stands in between her and a whole drunk of rascals.
Judging from the conversation that is thrown around in a language he doesn't really understand, Olruggio assumes that the leader of the group has a problem with the terrified woman. Mitirim maintains a stern yet steady voice whenever he talks back, while the five men, with blood-shot eyes nonetheless, threaten him by stomping their feet closer and closer every once in a while. Olruggio moves to Mitirim's side when he catches one of them sneaking a hand behind their ragged cloak.
"What is he saying?" Olruggio asks when the men round them both up in half a circle. He slips one hand behind his robes to ready a glyph. He sees shattered shards of bottles and wrecked displays in the street from being thrown; either as a threat or intentional to really hurt their target. It’s already a red flag for him to not let his guard down.
"They said Pasténya is a fraud, trying to dig up more of their boss's money in secret after the service she provided," Mitirim says hastily, not taking his eyes off each of the men in front of them; expecting an attack. This is a two versus five situation that most likely won't favor both of them at all.
"That's not true!" The woman, Olruggio presumes named Pasténya, defends herself with a held up chin even through tears welling from her eyes after hearing that. Her one hand lifted to point at a drunkard, while the other holds her bleeding side of the head. "He's the one who tried to get more bonuses first for free, saying that I can't be worth that much more than what he should be paying for! He even hit me with a bottle when I refused nicely . . ." She checks her palm to see red stain of blood trickling from her side of face. Seeing it triggers her hands, feet, and her voice to shake.
“Where is your — handler?” Olruggio asks with a slight turn of his head to the woman. He waits for an answer that is not verbally vocalised, because at the question, she bites her lip shut until it bleeds and she sobs. A strict contract, huh, he grimaces, and turns away, face darkens as he looks around at paling witnesses from above them. How pitiful. This is beyond me, then.
The men start to shout at her one by one, to which Pasténya responds with a spiteful spit to the side. The look on Mitirim’s face, who's been living here almost all his life, confirms Olruggio that he trusts Pasténya more than her wretched customers. Olruggio analyzes each and every possibility of what kind of a fight that might break out, here and right now, before authorities intervene, starting from where it will begin and what might finish it.
Mitirim might be built with more stamina than me to handle the nastiest scenario, Olruggio predicts, clasping his hand on Mitirim’s shoulder, and orders him quietly, “They must be some kind of travelers. Secure her, and stand back.”
Mitirim glances at Olruggio for a fleeting moment. “No can do,” he says, determined to stand his ground; probably to make a point of himself that he’s no longer the frail kid that can be kicked around by thugs and brutes. He clenches his fist by his side.
Olruggio feels disheartened, even just the slightest.
If Olruggio was Qifrey, he would emphasise appropriately how young Mitirim is, right to his face; because he is; because he can't be more than sixteen or seventeen, especially with how avid he looks and how proud he is with the goal that he will pass Knights Moralis test next year. Qifrey once smiled because of this kid; one of those pieces of puzzle completing his life of how proper gradual growth has successfully shaped Qifrey’s mindset. So, as long as Mitirim is young, naturally overachieving, and believes that he can get through any obstacle with how far he’s climbed to be this ideal version of himself since the last time Olruggio met him back here after moving to the atelier on the surface, he’s unstoppable; he’s immovable.
And those are qualities required to be one of the best of witches.
On the worst days, Olruggio and Qifrey would show their true colors just like that, too. After all, that quality is the reason why both him and Qifrey took an oath to prioritize other people’s lives above their own, as capable witches and the ones who have more power above others.
But unlike Qifrey, who has experienced and knew just how unfair and cruel the world is with how danger and foulness exist in every corner… Olruggio is more willing to accept any help he can get in any form. Because, despite everything, there will always be people who are willing to help. There will always be people who’d like to change the world in a good way. That is how fate has taught him since the very start; since he was merely just a curious boy surrounded by inequality the whole time he was living in Godley as part of ‘magical family’, challenging the world along with others who think that they can change it in various and unique ways everywhere.
That also only concludes that - no matter how far he’ll go, he will always have — no, he must have something to lose to keep him going; to grow and become better; to fill his life with purpose.
“If you don’t have much time here,” Mitirim ends Olruggio’s train of thoughts, “I suggest you just go, uncle Olruggio. I’m used to this situation.”
Olruggio scoffs. “Sure you did,” he replies in a mumble. “Which explains this isn’t something that you can’t just solve by yourself, right?” At the tensing shoulders, Olruggio proceeds, “Do me a favor, and take another level instead, would you?”
Mitirim furrows his eyebrows. “What do you m—”
“Think about the collateral damage for your friend’s future while I handle this, maybe?” Olruggio sighs. “I took an oath to aid the lives of yours and many more others as a witch, Mitirim. If you, too, would love to end this...” he gives the young man another second before he closes the circle of the glyph he secretly draws underneath his cloak, “...please, I’d very much appreciate it if you cooperate with me.”
Olruggio tugs Mitirim’s arm backward just when he catches the sight of one of the men drawing blades out from his sleeves, and makes a run toward them, spilling out a cry of war.
“Mitirim, secure her, now!”
Something in the way Olruggio commands him in the end inevitably moves Mitirim to obey. And it is just in time before Olruggio’s Bird of Light Beacon spell surges through and from him. For a split second, Olruggio looks like an entity; ablaze with a Familiar of a Phoenix that doesn’t burn him nor anyone under the pale late afternoon aquamarine light.
The bird shrieks and flies forward, spreading its wings wide enough to disperse the men before swooping up to scream out an alert overhead.
Olruggio takes the momentum to dispose of a bundle of caramel powder on the ground, plenty enough to make adhesive that can trap an elephant once burned, telling Mitirim to get Pasténya and run from the back alley while he stands there creating a fog illusion for their escape.
“Go,” Olruggio commands in a whisper, catching the sight of Mitirim sealing his optic shop with a simple pull of chain from the concave with an invisible steel curtain, while Pasténya looks at Olruggio flushed next to the young man. "Read my hand before you turn that way,” he adds.
To the Healing Spire, Olruggio signals with his hand behind his back; the one that doesn’t wear his glove because that other one is summoning and holding a ball of sizzling fire to be dropped just as three men start to strike from many directions.
Olruggio's face turns stoic when the three men stop in their tracks at their boss’s order when he sees the fire and the road covered in powders that they don’t know about.
“You’re all so lucky for being travellers.” Olruggio twirls the fire on his hand, his expression grim. “Because all of you will be imprisoned for at least five full moons only, all for assaulting the powerless and causing a distressing scene. Which is a shame." The Phoenix that’s still circulating like a giant clangorous halo overhead fades painstakingly. Olruggio doesn’t worry, and doesn’t need to understand their language if he can read their body language all clear, threatening him: “You wouldn’t dare! You’re not from here, and we will not let you get away! We'll end you!”
“Sorry, gentlemen,” Olruggio taunts, and smirks when he finally sees, just in time, two blips of crimson and gold-blues flashing from the corner of his periphery, dashing in close from afar. “Cue curtains will be in three… two… one…”
“Oh, it is senior Olruggio...” a small voice of one of the Knights Moralis members reaches his ears; two human-embodiments of Sinsinger birds that only appear in nightmares belonged to criminals. “Hello, senior Olruggio!”
With only a flick of wrist to sign, the renowned security council's pennants stretch out and sweep the five men off their feet in one go. Binding them all together midair, their voices becoming music to Olruggio’s ears just as the fire dies out, both from the beacon above and within his grasp.
Olruggio smiles at the downfall of the assaulters before him.
“Hello, Ekoh, Etoran,” Olruggio greets them decently, motioning a casual salutation, “Always in time, as expected from Knights Moralis. Would you take care of these gentlemen here on behalf of Easthies?”
Either Ekoh or Etoran responds enthusiastically, “Sure do!”
“We still have to report this first to the tower, though,” adds the other.
Olruggio breathes out a relieved sigh. “Anything will do, thank you. Don't lose them on the way, okay? They're as sly as eels."
Olruggio gets a full clinging embrace from Pasténya once he’s back to Healing Spire in one piece. Thankfully, she’s fully dressed now, and has been treated by Sinocia so she can weep all she likes, sobbing— my savior... how do I repay you after what you’ve done...? I’d do anything you ask me to —while Olruggio freezes on the spot and gives her awkward pats in the back. He blanches when the gesture only tightens her grip on him, all flush and possessive.
“It’s good to know you and Mitirim are safe,” Olruggio says, giving nonverbal hints to Mitirim— please pull her away from me I beg of you —albeit too conspicuous. “It is truly what matters the most…” Olruggio trails off, currently panicking because Agott and Lucy are both awake to witness the scene with their own very eyes.
“Oh my, my~ You’re so lucky, Olruggio~” Sinocia doesn’t help either, which is also so, so cursed for him.
“Pasténya…” Mitirim persuades, prying diligently to unlatch her from Olruggio, face heating up in secondhand embarrassment. “There are children in here, and he needs to breathe, too, right…? Because he just got here, remember...?”
“Yeah, and he needs to come with me now, to meet the Great Sage, actually.” Lulucy speaks informally whenever she needs to; she uses it dutifully on occasions that need some kind of enlightenment, which always seems so odd to Olruggio. “Right, Olruggio? Remember our appointment?” In this case, she does it just for fun.
“Right…" Olruggio scratches the back of his head when Pasténya untangles herself from him and fiddles with her patient gown; fidgeting and apologizing with red face.
"We're going now? Let me wake the others up," Agott offers, as if she knows that this is all inappropriate; glancing at Olruggio with curiosity and judgments crystal clear on her face before going to the guest room. Lulucy nods at her, her eyes glinting with ambiguity when meeting Olruggio's.
Why do I feel like I'm in a court right now… Olruggio mentally facepalms himself while telling Pasténya that it's alright. "She's not my wife, so it's fine." Olruggio refers to Lulucy, then gestures to Sinocia. "And neither is she. It's the kid that I was worried about, having to see . . . err, either way." He coughs. "You can stay here for as long as you need to, or for as long as Sinocia here allows you to, until we can talk about your situation much further, much later— ow, ow, ow—"
Olruggio yelps when Sinocia pulls at his ear, reprimanding him and boasting about her good reputation in the entire Great Hall.
"Please don't mind him that seriously." Sinocia chuckles after she lets Olruggio go. "But yes, you're more than welcomed to be here until things are settled safely for you. Don’t hesitate to tell us what you—”
"Ah, please don’t hurt him like that." Pasténya, all starry eyed, bows down to them. The expression stops Sinocia, and makes them both stare dumbfounded at her. "And thank you..." she sniffles again. "Thank you so much for saving me and helping me, oh sire."
Olruggio, rubbing his ear and hissing sourly at Sinocia while at the same time knowing what she’s thinking after that, says, “It’s just my duty. Don’t think too much of it. And I will take… full responsibility if things—” and before Olruggio can finish the sentence, Pasténya gasps,
“You would take full responsibility, sire!?”
Olruggio instinctively backs away when Pasténya inclines her body to embrace him again. “Uh, to some extent… yes.” He then clears his throat, and beckons at Mitirim to come and talk with him in the far corner of the lobby. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asks, and is glad when the young man’s obedience hinders Pasténya to push through.
Once they're not within everyone's earshot, he begins to talk very quietly. "I hate to ask favors from the people that I just gave aid to, because it makes me look insincere at helping people,” Olruggio starts, “But, uh - "
"If it's about the spectacles, I will do it for free as a thank you," Mitirim races him to it, nodding and beaming with determination, and stretches out a demanding hand at him. "I don't mind. Really. And I will make it quick as well. I will finish it tonight, details written, and give it to you tomorrow if that's what you need."
"Ah, but - that's not exactly what - "
Mitirim shakes his head and gestures at him to calm down. "That's on me, still. What else do you need me to do? I will do it, no biggie." He looms over and puts both of his hands on Olruggio's shoulders, staring into his soul with the power of a thousand suns. "I owe you my life, uncle Olruggio. Anything you ask me to, I will do it. Don't hesitate to rely on me, alright?"
Olruggio blinks dumbly at him for fifteen times, no exaggeration, before he leans in not-so-guiltily to whisper in Mitirim's ear. "Just in case, and I hope I'm wrong, but just in case…" he says, "can you… inform your friend, that there's really nothing she should offer to me, since I'm…" he hesitates. "It's just my duty to serve as a witch. To help you guys. And tell her that I'm sorry, too, if things get more complicated after this. But I promise, I will find solutions if the worst comes to worst.”
Olruggio gulps down when Mitirim's eyes flicker to his, and then to the other side of the lobby when he pulls away.
"I don't think - she would listen to that kind of excuse…" Mitirim purses his lips, considering that hard enough to create wrinkles on his face. "I mean, I alone would not accept that as an excuse to not repay the debt of being saved from, ah, a fluctuation that threatens my life. And by you, so to speak, of all people."
Olruggio lets out a heavy sigh, thinking to himself. "Then,” he says slowly, “how about this..." Olruggio leans in again. "You put up your best act and tell her, when the time is right and you're both alone, that I am, uh… I’m - a happily married witch, and will be leaving the Great Hall much sooner than later…? You can do that, right?"
Shockingly, Mitirim gasps out loud. "Wait, you . . . !?"
At lightning speed, Olruggio covers the younger man's mouth and shushes him. He subtly glares at him, and pretends to not notice the eyes of the others on them, and drags Mitirim further away when Agott gets out of the room where her other three sisters slept, readjusting the position of her pointy hat.
"This is just between the two of us, a favor that I genuinely ask from you," he says, stealing a glance every once in a while at Lulucy, who's eyeing him impatiently; she's already suited again with her crimson cloak and winged-pointy-hat. "Just for this once. Just a closure for this place, because I'm not staying here longer than a quarter of a season. Would you do that for me, Mitirim? Me and my, uh, partner don't really have fond memories here in the Great Hall, and we do live on the surface for years, now… so…”
Olruggio grounds his fidgeting leg with light, obscured taps by his hand.
Mitirim regards him for what feels like an eternity, mulling over what the older man means, and remains silent the entire time. Olruggio has to hold onto his dignity to keep his composure, before he decides that he already knows the answer to that. Mitirim is an honest young man, raised by good-natured mothers, and he is transparent as dew but never as infirm.
Olruggio catches up with Lulucy and the kids—Qifrey's apprentices. He nods at Mitirim, who nods back at him next to Pasténya (whose eyes and nose rimmed red from crying), just in the brief moment before the door closes by Sinocia. He eventually demands favor from Hiheart and his disciple after coming back from Fortress of Fog; to search for a job and a place for Pasténya to live permanently, because Olruggio can only ask so much from a kid that once made Qifrey smile, Mitirim, after telling him how much he’s thankful for Qifrey in the depth of this gloomy place just right after Qifrey had to face his primordial fear, on that day of fire incident.