An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege-Chapter 17: Tea sipping Count and his Butler...

"Sael...." Adler spoke softly as he addressed the young count before him, but this time, there was a hint of sharpness within his usually soothing voice. A sharpness that was not present whenever he spoke to the count.

"Now, now, Adler, no need to be so cold to your master... hmm?" Krael's voice reverberated through the early hours of the waking light.

Adler, who was being addressed, remained bowing his head as he regarded the count's shifting persona. Seeing that the butler had no intention of replying, the count remained quiet as he continued sipping the red liquid.

There was no immediate change in his mannerisms, no abrupt shift to confirm the butler's suspicions. His etiquette remained refined, and he still held the cup the way he always did. He ate as he normally would. But out of the corner of Adler's eye, he could see what many would never be able to observe.

There was a subtle yet forceful quality to his actions, as if everything around him existed only because he allowed it. His posture was unrestrained, even freer than usual. The burdened gaze Krael often carried was absent, and the naïve arrogance he typically bore had vanished.

Instead of the usual haughty yet sublime aura of Count Krael, Sael radiated something far more chaotic. An extreme unruliness. He sat as if he might suddenly sprint away, set a building on fire just for amusement, or throw himself into the unknown simply to test its limits.

This version of his master was the one Adler had always been wary of—not because of what he might do if unleashed. Adler hardly cared about the consequences of Sael's actions. What concerned him was the strain this persona placed on Krael simply by existing.

Adler's entire existence revolved around his young master. Nothing else mattered. And since Sael was simply another facet of Krael, Adler had chosen to adapt—to reshape himself to serve this wild, untamed version better.

How?

He had developed his own persona to counter Count Sael.

And that was just speaking of the unseen changes.

Physically, the transformations were subtle yet undeniable. Krael's usually short messy hair grew longer, turning into an untamed mane of crimson ash. So wild and unrestrained that many would mistake him for a beast.

His normally lithe physique expanded ever so slightly, accommodating a more robust build, muscles thickening until they could almost rival Adler's. And yet, the grace of nobility was an unwavering constant, as if the original Krael would never allow it otherwise.

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Then, there were his eyes—sharper, smoldering, the glaze, giving way to a more bright and passionate look, as if everything the world had to offer interested him if only for the disdain he had for the world itself. His features hardened and sharpened, growing more defined and dangerously alluring.

The greatest change of all, however, was his height. While Krael remained somewhat shorter, Sael seemed on the cusp of entering the six-foot leagues. Tall, but not impossibly so.

And with the mysterious changes that had taken hold of the count ever since his awakening, these transformations were becoming more pronounced. Once, they had been fleeting—subtle, almost imperceptible shifts in mood. Now, they were distinct. Individual. Personas growing apart rather than blending into one.

And it didn't end with Sael alone; there was one more he had seen only once since the moment he chose to serve Krael, but he knew it was there lurking within, and more mysterious.

Adler did not know the mechanisms behind these changes, though he had his theories.

And with those thoughts.

Gone was the warm butler Krael had once known.

In his place stood a strict, cold Adler—one whose very presence cut like the blades he wielded. His eyes no longer burned with fire, nor were they dulled by passivity. Instead, they had hardened into a solid, unfathomable white, unreadable as a frozen abyss.

"Ahh, there you are..." Krael—no, Sael—spoke, his voice just as deep, just as steady.

Seemingly unaffected.

He regarded the changed Adler with intrigue.

"I don't understand why you would have to change. We are all the same, Krael and I."

"Just a minor difference in perception. But down to the core, we are one and the same."

Sael seemed intent on coaxing out the warm version of his butler, but all he received was a cold, deadpan stare. The new Adler had not only altered his personality; he had grown leaner, deadlier, and strict to the bone, his aura laced with an imperceptible edge.

Then there was the silence—endless, frustrating silence. Adler spoke only when necessary, answering only questions of true relevance. Nothing more.

"Tsk." Sael scoffed at the butler's lack of response.

"Fine. Have it your way. I prefer the silent version of you better anyway."

But all that met him were cold, white eyes.

Sael "...."

Sael gave up, drinking his tea quietly.

The red, steaming liquid slid down his throat like ambrosia, perfectly balanced between sweetness and spice.

'Oh, how I've missed drinking the teas he makes.'

Of course, Sael would never admit such a thing. Not even in his own thoughts.

'The other version of Adler has a knack for making intriguing teas.'

Then, his gaze flicked toward the strict, handsome face of the butler he was currently stuck with.

"Sigh..."

"Truly unfair, Krael... Why do you get all the good things while I am left with this mountain of cold, hard stone?"

Yet, despite his complaints, he couldn't help but admire the tea and the butler's culinary skills.

Not that he would ever ask how Adler made his teas. Nor would he ever acknowledge their quality aloud. Knowing Adler, he would become smug and complacent if he realized just how addicted Sael was to the way he prepared meals.

Yes, it extended beyond the tea.

Even the food Adler made was exquisite.

Sael dared say that not even the emperor dined as luxuriously as he did.

Not that he could begin to imagine what Adler used to prepare his meals. They were always strange, with flavors he could never quite recognize.

But as long as the food was good and there were no adverse effects, did it really matter?

Ordinarily, such trust would be dangerous for a noble. A count of his standing was prone to all kinds of schemes, deception, and theatrics—entertainment befitting their circles.

No matter how minor he was in the ranks of nobility.

Astrea just had so many people that there was no lack of ambitions and the need to be within the echelons of those that ruled the world.

In fact, gossip was one of the most amusing aspects of noble life.

Not that Sael would ever stoop so low as to engage in such crass behavior. Information simply came to him, whether he sought it or not. That was how it should be.

And as if he had read Sael's mind, Adler finally spoke.

Gods, Sael swore he saw the slightest upturn of his lips. As if Adler had him exactly where he wanted him.

But, of course, this version of Adler did not care for his thoughts. Cold and grumpy as ever.

Complete and utter disregard.

One of these days, Sael should punish him for daring to treat his master in such a manner.

"According to reports, the House of Estel has completely fallen. The entire household has been wiped from the face of the earth."

"They all perished to the monstrosities lurking within."

"The only survivors were a few commoner families, protected by the blessings of the Holy Temple."

There was hardly a pause as Adler recited the information with hardly any shift in his posture or expression.

He stood at attention with his back straight, his uniform crisp, and his hair neat.

"It is said that Lady Istrabel had secured an engagement with the House of Flameheart five years prior, to some scion named Sebastian Flameheart. But at the moment, she has become an unwilling widow."

"Many who once sought her hand have now abandoned their pursuit, claiming she is cursed. That she brings ruin upon her suitors."

Sael struggled to stifle a laugh.

He failed miserably.

"Hahaha!"

"Ahhh... The Lady Istrabel...."

"Poor, poor, poor Istrabel."

"I wonder... do you curse your luck now?"

"Did you ever consider the consequences of your words that day?"

"Daring to mock my noble height...."

Adler "..."

Scoff.

"Now, you pay for your sins."

And as if the world joined him in karmic celebration, the wails of mourning reached a new crescendo, the sound of shattered hearts filling the air.

Sael relished it.

Though Sael was never one to be hung on such minor issues, he was still very much affected by the main ego that was Krael, and sometimes he could not help it.

This was one of such effects. But he was not averse to it. They were after all one and the same.

Then in contemplation, Sael spoke to himself.

"Though I have always had the intuition that the House Silverflame is not what it seems on the surface."

"Their actions are just too odd."

Adler's eyes flashed with a hidden gleam, but he remained silent.

It was a sorrowful sight down below. The balcony seemed to allow sight beyond the State of Maesta, and into his neighbors.

Ashenwood!

Many had lost loved ones to the Year of the Surge. Many had been orphaned, left homeless, or permanently disabled. Countless souls carried traumas so deep that only divine intervention could hope to mend them.

But none of that concerned Sael. He, too, had his share of sorrow, but he had never been one to dwell on such things.

Besides, as he had often mused—his mind was not properly aligned with that of ordinary men. Even in the midst of such devastation, he felt nothing.

Truly, he was a god.

It was only a matter of time before his splendor was recognized. Soon, the multitudes would bask in his presence, seeking even a single glance from his noble gaze.

Oblivious to his master's sentiment, Adler continued.

"As usual, the city walls remain standing. The military has culled even more beings than in previous years."

"According to reports, the gates have been dyed in so much blood that half the city walls are now painted in various shades of ichor."

"And soon, the sweep is set to begin."

"The health and research sectors are particularly eager for this round's haul."

"They have so much to work with that, for once, they have the luxury of being selective."

"The Military Academy—"

At that moment, Sael noticed the slightest hesitation in Adler's usually unwavering voice. A mere flicker, but enough to surprise him.

What could cause a man of such cold and disciplined pride to falter?

For a brief moment, Sael entertained the notion that he had fallen into an illusion conjured by the Chained Ones.

But just as quickly, Adler pressed on.

"The Military Academy is reported to be the primary force behind this year's improved safety measures, significantly reducing casualties in the mass slaughter."

"The students have displayed remarkable talent—abilities that, by all previous accounts, had not been apparent before."

"This has led to speculation that the Diearch of Astrea has bestowed his blessings upon the academy."

"As a result, the next series of actions has been set into motion."

Sael noted the deep breath Adler took before continuing as if bracing himself for what he was about to say next.

Curious.

What could unsettle his ever-smug butler over something as mundane as reading a report?

Beyond the horizon, Sael's gaze caught a growing pillar of light, stretching high into the heavens.

A great radiance was being birthed, forcing the darkness to recede like a retreating tide. And if one listened closely, they would hear the silent screams that accompanied its withdrawal.

A breathtaking sight.

Many poets had written verses inspired by this phenomenon—The First Light.

The day that marked the end of the Year of the Surge.

If he remembered correctly, one of the verses went something like this:

For the yolk—

His poetic musings were abruptly interrupted.

"You have been ordered—"

And then his entire world froze.