The Last Godfall: Transmigrated as the Young Master-Chapter 140: Hollow Apostolates

The kitchen fire had already been lit by the time Aline arrived. Seris stood at the counter as if the room belonged to her, sleeves pinned, knife working with calm certainty. The servants had been dismissed. That part struck Aline first.

"You do realize," Aline said, leaning against the doorframe, "that most people let the staff handle this part."

Seris glanced over her shoulder. "Most people enjoy surprises."

"That sounds like an accusation."

"It is an observation." Seris turned back to the board and continued slicing. "I prefer knowing what goes into my food."

Aline crossed the room and peered into the pan. "In the house of a baron, no less. I can hear the scandal forming already. Lady Valemont doesn’t trust servants of lower noble houses."

"It won’t be the first one," Seris said.

Aline smiled. "You inspected the knives too, I assume."

"They were aligned incorrectly."

"That might devastate the cook."

"He will recover."

Aline pulled out a stool and sat, watching Seris work. The movements stayed precise, practiced in a way that suggested repetition rather than talent. This was routine for her, carried from other houses, other kitchens.

"You know," Aline said, "you remain the only noble I know who treats a scullery like contested ground."

"And you remain committed to exaggeration."

Aline laughed. "I admire the dedication. Truly. Cooking for yourself here of all places."

Seris added seasoning and stirred. "I do not eat food I did not watch prepared,"

"That sounds exhausting."

"I prefer peace of mind."

The banter eased after that, settling into the quiet clink of utensils and the fire’s soft crackle. Aline let it sit longer than she meant to.

"There is something about this place," she said at last, voice lowering despite herself.

Seris paused, spoon hovering. "About the kitchen."

"About the house." Aline shifted on the stool. "It feels wrong."

Seris turned fully then, brow creasing. "Define wrong."

Aline opened her mouth and stalled. The thought tangled as soon as it reached for words. "I cannot," she said, then tried again. "When I spoke to the servants earlier, it felt strained."

"They answered you."

"They did," Aline said. "Yet it took effort. As if every question passed through something first."

Seris studied her, expression unreadable.

"I know that sounds foolish," Aline went on. "I barely spoke to them myself. Still, when I asked for directions, it felt rehearsed. Too careful."

Seris frowned. "You think they dislike you."

Aline shook her head. "That part felt absent. It was more like... I do not know." She pressed her fingers together, searching for shape. "I kept stumbling over it."

Seris watched her in silence as the pan continued to steam. Aline trailed off, words failing her, the unease staying put where language refused to reach.

Aline was still searching for the right phrasing when the kitchen door opened.

A male servant stepped inside. He paused as if gauging the scene, then smiled in a way that suggested effort rather than ease.

"My lady," he said to Seris, hands already folding. "The supper prepared earlier has cooled properly. It will sit well now."

Seris did not turn. She stirred once and set the spoon down.

"I heard you," she said. "Earlier."

The servant nodded, too quickly. "Of course. I only thought it best to assure you again. The kitchen staff followed every instruction. Fresh water. Clean boards. New oil."

Aline felt a prickle of recognition. This exchange had already happened. She could hear the repetition in his voice, the careful rhythm of someone retracing steps.

"I am cooking," Seris said. "You may return to your duties."

The servant hesitated. "It would reflect poorly if guests believed our preparations lacked care."

Seris faced him then. Her expression held patience sharpened into something colder.

"You may leave."

The words fell flat and final.

The servant bowed, deeper this time, and turned toward the door. Aline’s gaze followed him out of habit, then stayed there. Seris did the same.

His hands reached the doorframe. Instead of pulling it open, he placed both palms against the wood and pushed it closed. The latch caught with a dull sound that echoed longer than it should have.

Aline’s breath caught.

Seris shifted her stance, weight settling, shoulders squaring.

"I cannot afford that," the servant said quietly, still facing the door. "What you are asking."

He turned.

His eyes were black. Fully. No white remained.

Seris moved at once. "Aline, behind me."

Her own eyes darkened as she spoke, the change swift and complete.

Aline moved to obey.

The floor changed.

The space stretched, drawn thin and long. The counter pulled away. The walls felt distant. Aline stumbled, foot sliding forward, balance gone. The room had rearranged itself around her.

She found herself closer to the servant than to Seris.

Her breath hitched. Seris was farther away now, too far, arm extended as if distance had weight.

Seris spoke again, voice level, shaped to command. "Step away from her."

The servant’s body answered before his mind did. His shoulders tightened. Fingers twitched at his sides. His jaw worked, teeth grinding once. For a moment, something like hesitation passed through him.

Then the air near Aline folded.

The servant vanished from where he stood and reappeared at her side. Heat brushed her cheek. His breath struck her ear, sharp and uneven.

A knife slid into his hand, smooth and certain, metal catching the kitchen’s dull glow. He lifted it and pressed the edge against Aline’s throat. Cold touched skin. Pressure followed, careful and exact.

Aline froze.

Seris stopped where she was. Her eyes locked on him. She took in the distance, the angle, the knife, and Aline’s position in a single still moment.

"Obey," the servant said, breath rough against Aline’s ear. "Or your friend dies here."

The knife pressed a fraction closer. Aline felt the change and went still.

Seris stood where she was. Her jaw set. One hand curled at her side, then eased open again.

Aline’s mouth had gone tight, breath trapped shallow, eyes bright with fear that refused to spill. She shook her head once, barely there, pleading without sound.

Seris’s gaze caught the movement, then slid to the blade and back to the servant’s eyes.

"All right," Seris said.

She reached up and drew her focus inward. Whatever had darkened her gaze loosened its hold. Color returned to her eyes. The room felt steadier for it.

"I will comply," she said. "Release her when I do."

The servant’s mouth curved. "Good."

Seris took a slow step forward. "You speak like the Apostolate."

His smile widened. "A correct guess."

She watched him as she moved, cataloging what she had seen. The stretch of space. The fold. Control that bent position rather than strength. Her mind traced familiar patterns. "Wandering Star," she said. "That’s the arche of your bond."

His eyes flickered with approval. "You pay attention."

"Follow," he said. "Keep pace. She stays alive if you finish this."

He shifted the knife just enough to guide Aline forward. Seris moved when Aline moved, keeping herself where the servant could see her hands.

They left the kitchen.

The corridor opened long and pale ahead of them. Seris expected noise. The academy held students at every hour. Voices, feet, doors. She heard none of it. The silence pressed close, wrong in its fullness.

They reached an intersection.

A maid stepped into view from the side hall. Dark hair pinned neat. A wide smile sat on her face, easy and bright. Her eyes took in the scene at a glance.

"Status," the servant asked. "Therell."

"Controlled," the maid said. "All stations hold."

He nodded. "And the students."

She smiled wider. "If they have not yet, they will be choking on what I prepared. The prince will be fine."

Seris felt the words land, cold and heavy.

Therell continued, voice light. "We need someone to speak of this. Who better than the prince himself."

"He will live." Her smile widened. "He will also speak."

The servant nodded, satisfied. "Then we are aligned."

His grip eased by a fraction as satisfaction settled into his posture. Therell watched him, head tipped, smile unchanged.

"Oh Malox", Therell continued. "You should meet my new toy."

A servant stepped forward from behind her. He was tall, shoulders broad beneath plain livery, eyes unfocused and glassy. He stood there, waiting.

Therell lifted two fingers and tipped them toward the wall without looking at him.

The servant shifted, revealing what he carried.

A pale-haired boy hung slack in his arms, head lolled against the man’s shoulder, hair clotted at the crown. His face was drained of color. One arm bounced faintly with each step, fingers limp.

Aline sucked in a breath. "Vencian."

She twisted toward him. The knife bit closer, metal pressing hard enough to sting. Malox hauled her back, breath flaring against her ear.

"Stay still," he said.

Therell drifted closer to the unconscious boy. She reached up, brushing fingers along his jaw, then his hair, lifting a pale strand between thumb and forefinger.

"Look at him," she said. "That face. Clean lines. Soft mouth. He looks gentle when he sleeps."

Malox’s head snapped toward her. "This strays from the plan."

She laughed, sharp and pleased, eyes roaming. "Plans grow dull. He has such pretty lashes. And the way his neck curves."

"Enough," Malox said. "Leave him."

Therell pouted, then leaned closer, studying Vencian’s face with open delight. "He would last longer. He would scream better."

Malox stepped forward, voice low and tight. "Do nothing foolish."

She turned on him, smile thinning. "Deny me and I take the prince too. I choose."

For a moment they stared at each other. The corridor stayed silent around them, heavy and waiting.

Malox looked to Seris, then to Aline, then back to Therell. His jaw worked once.

"Take him," he said. "Then move."

Therell clapped softly, pleased. "Good."

She gestured down the hall. The broad servant adjusted his hold and followed as she led the way. Malox pushed Aline forward, knife still firm at her throat, guiding Seris along behind them.

They walked toward a closed door at the end of the corridor, Therell humming under her breath as she went.