Chapter 25: Silenced

The prime minister offered the messenger a subtle smile. His eyebrows slightly moving upward after seeing the greed flashing from the face of the messenger. He found it interesting.

He took the bell on his side and rang it. Soon, three butlers opened the large door, walking inside with their backs straight.

One was like a military man. He looked like a warrior rather than a butler. His butler's coat didn't suit him at all. It was tight-fitted enough to see his bulging muscles. He looked uncanny. Give him a bastard sword and he'll be nothing but a barbarian. Give him armor and he’ll be a knight.

The second one was a thin emaciated old man. An old man near the death's door. Still, the vigor within his sunken eyes showed that he was still among the living. It was unbelievable that he was still working despite his current state. More so that he was still serving the prime minister at his age.

The last butler was the one who opened the door to the mansion. The most ordinary-looking butler among the three. You would even forget that he stood among the three if you look away. Well, he offered nothing special as compared to the other two butlers. He was as plain as he could be.

The messenger called John glimpsed at the three newcomers. For some reason, he felt like the three were watching his every move even though their eyes were not on him. He shook his head, treating it as part of his imagination. Or maybe, he was just too exhausted.

"It was a very interesting answer, John. You can go now." The prime minister focused his gaze at the parchment, his magic pen moving again. "Butler Alfonse? Please lead the man to his rest."

"Yes, Milord. It shall be done." The ordinary-looking butler nodded, bowing in agreement. He turned to the messenger. "Mr. John, please come with me. Please take a short rest. I had already prepared your room."

The messenger stood up from the floor, bowing towards the busy prime minister before leaving the room. He was a bit giddy after receiving the gold coins. His mind filled with thoughts about how will he spend all the gold coins. "I'll take my leave, Milord!"

"Take care, John." The prime minister's firm voice sounded reassuring.

"Have a good rest! Mr. John."

"Enjoy the good rest! Mr. Messenger."

The other two butlers respectfully followed the lead of the prime minister. Though unlike the prime minister the faces of the other two butlers were cold. Their words contained no warmth as if they didn't find the messenger's presence necessary.

The messenger immediately walked outside of the room. Peeking at the two butlers, he sensed the coldness coming from the two. The two might be envious of the gold coins, he thought. He had struck the jackpot.

Messenger John followed the lead of the ordinary butler. While the other two butlers slowly closed the room.

He wondered what kind of food the grand mansion had prepared for him. It won’t be cheap alright? Well, even it's cheap, he would still be willing to eat it all. After all, his stomach was already growling in hunger for some time now. Even a whole lamb would be nothing to him. A day of rest and he can start traveling back to the capital again. His wife and kid would be on cloud nine once they see the pouch of gold coins.

As for the food, maybe he should ask the good butler guiding him.

"Mr. Alfonse, what will be the menu for today?"

Still, the ordinary remained silent. “Mr. Alfonse?”

The feet of the ordinary butler stopped. He turned and gazed at the messenger, a thin smile drifting on his lips. "Oh, the menu? Here's the menu."

The messenger caught a glimpse of a white glove snaking straight to his face. His face felt stout after he was grabbed by the mouth. The butler did not allow him to speak further.

The messenger tried to shout and flailed. But nothing came out of it. He tried to punch the owner of the white gloves only to discover that his arms and limbs were not moving as it should.

No. He couldn't move it at all. It was numb. He couldn't fight back.

"Hmff! Hmff! Ahmnhh!"

"Shhh. Mr. John." The butler called Alfonse pulled his face closer. A dark creepy grin filled his face. He looked like a demon from hell. "You're tired so don't move much. I've already prepared your bed."

The messenger caught a glimpse of his limbs. His mind went blank. He saw nothing. Yes, his limbs were already gone. Blood swallowed the ground, dyeing the blue carpet black. He could even see the scarlet liquid dropping on the carpet. The scent of rust threading through the air.

"Oh, you’re so full now? Let's move to your room then." The ordinary-looking butler named Alfonse dragged the struggling messenger as if he was carrying a dead man.

Soon enough, the messenger finally saw his room.

The view was nice. There were stars above his head. The light scent of grass and dirt wafted towards his nostrils. Then, he shuddered.

The messenger heard the voice of the man grappling his face. "We're already here Mr. John. Oh, your dessert is a nice wet cloth. So chew it, okay?"

The butler's fingers flash with haste. In a blink of an eye, the nice wet cloth gagged the messenger's mouth. Not allowing the messenger to even utter a word.

The messenger tried to flail again but to no avail. The words terror and dread spelled perfectly on the messenger's face. After all, what can a limbless gagged man do?

The grin of the butler turned deeper. He hoisted the limbless messenger like a mere package. "Mr. John? Here's your bed. Take a look, you will absolutely like it."

The messenger felt a hand clutching his head from the back. It lifted him from the ground towards his supposed beautiful room.

Yet…

The messenger only saw a deep hole. The blurry moonlight was not even enough to see what's in the bottom of the dark pit.

"Hmff! Hmnff! Hmff!" The messenger tried his best to break free. Streaks of warm tears trickled from his eyes. He doesn't want to die yet. He had his wife, kids, and parents to take care of. With all of his remaining strength, he twisted his upper body.

Alas! He broke free from the butler's grasp…just as he wished.

The messenger fell straight to the bottom of the dark pit. Never to be seen. And never to be heard again. It was the perfect rest. An eternal one. The butler was sure that the prime minister would find his hospitality so amazing that he would give him a raise.

Then, there was silence.

"Mr. John's quite tired, tsk. Sleep well!" The butler pulled out his gloves, throwing them into the dark pit. Then, he pulled out a match throwing it directly into the abyss. Tongues of flame torched the dark pit. Surely so, what was below would be nothing but scorched earth after this night.

Whistling, the butler gazed at the fiery pit. A few screams drifted to his ears. "What a nice flame!"

After a few minutes, Butler Alfonse went back to the embrace of the shadows.

His feet drifting deeper into the mansion.

***

The prime minister stood up and watched the scenery from his huge glass windows. His back facing the two odd butlers as if they were waiting for someone.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The huge door slowly opened. The ordinary-looking butler bowed before lining up along with the other two.

"How's Mr. John, Mr. Alfonse." The room's temperature fell a few degrees. The prime minister's voice sounded like it was an iceberg. Far fetch from his seemingly amicable attitude a few minutes ago.

"He loved his room so much. That he immediately dived in to rest." The butler named Alfonse said, a smile drawn on his face. "Don't worry. He also ate well."

"That's good then."

Soon, pitter-patters echoed throughout the mansion. It was raining outside. A few streaks of lightning lit up the dark sky. The dark clouds followed the direction of the wind as it conquered the starry skies.

The messenger would also have a nice bath it seemed.

"Gentlemen, let me explain why I called you here. We had encountered some unexpected troubles." The prime minister turned around. He eyed the three butlers respectfully. Not servile but as equals. "The Archmage Saria.” I never thought she's this well versed in politics. Even I, am amazed by her intricate plans."

"Jovan. Are you sure it's the archmage's work?" The emaciated old man uttered. There was a song of unbelief dwelling in his craggy voice. "Not the princess?"

The prime minister - Duke Jovan von Artus nodded. "Relax. It's not the princess. I'm sure. I knew her from when she was a child. She's been spoiled too much. Aside from that, not even the old king and the sick queen could suddenly pull the rug against me.”

He walked towards the war sand table. He took a bit of sand into his hands. Letting it drift freely out of his fingers. "Not when I had fully grasped their weakness. That's why one's dead and the other bedridden. For the envious late prince, he had served his best."

"Perhaps, the lady archmage had been moving a lot in the shadows. I'm quite sure she's also the reason why the witch princess managed to escape. She might even be hiding her. Not that she's useful though." The prime minister eyed the falling sands. His mind falling into deep thought. He smiled and turned at three butlers. "Oh, perhaps she also used some outside help. Just like me."

The emaciated old man closed his eyes for a moment before agreeing. "The plans she crafted are new to my ears. I've not read it in the books or even encountered it in my lifetime. If it's Saria, I can accept it. She is indeed a once in hundred-year genius or perhaps would be the next 8th rank, Lord Magus. I am having some thoughts now. I’m feeling tempted to recruit her. I can even help her build her magic tower in my city for free if she wants. What do you think everyone?"

The other three persons in the room shook their heads, knowing the probability of having her in their dominion, nil.

Soon, a deep baritone voice trembled inside the room. It was the burly warrior-like butler. "For me, it's clear that it's the work of the lady archmage. She even exposed the hand of the empire like she's playing with dumb kids. The old bone in the throne might be gritting his teeth right now. To be honest, I want her to be my woman. Unfortunately, she has a lot of spikes and will be too cumbersome to control."

"So even the empire's Black Prince couldn't help but want her. Haha. That's news to us. I'll send some ladies from the Union if you want. The old man grinned, taking a chance to offer something to the muscular butler. "They won't be spiky at all. All soft!"

"I will have to refuse." The burly butler uttered in a cold voice. He stood like a massive tower - his presence suddenly looming as if he was warning the old man. His presence was akin to a mountain that suddenly fell from the skies above. "Peh, I don't want to play with poisonous assassins every night."

"Haha. Is that so? My offer is still open, prince." The old man stumped the wooden stick to the ground. A weird silver aura crept throughout his whole thin visage. It crashed head-on against the suffocating aura.

"Enough!" The ordinary-looking man closed his eyes.

Then, there was silence. The two clashing aura's retreated.

Boom!

A bolt of lightning dashed down from the veiled heaven. The flash of light it carried burst out throughout the room. It illuminated the room for a moment, vanishing in a blink of an eye.

Then the old man turned his head to the ordinary-looking butler with a careful and subtle smile. "So how about you? Mr. Guildmaster? How shall we deal with Saria?"

The three pairs of eyes zeroed on the seemingly and overwhelmingly ordinary butler. The prime minister of Carmandy. One of the great elders of the Free Trade Union. And the famous Black Prince of the Empire.

The two representatives waited for his words with respect. While the prime minister giggled, finding everything amusing.

There was no emotion showing in the ordinary butler's eyes. Nevertheless, the next thing that came out of his mouth sent shivers to everyone in the room.

"Let's kill her."