Chapter Text
Magus sighed wearily as he walked back to his quarters.
A new day had passed in the Kingdom of Zeal and once again, he had witnessed his mother's descent into madness, more and more captivated by Lavos as time went on.
She only had a little bit of sanity left before she sank completely. Perhaps a matter of a few weeks, hardly more.
He sighed again.
This delay seemed to him both too long and far too short.
On the one hand, he was eager to finally face Lavos. On the other, he feared for his sister.
He still couldn't recover from the shock of having this opportunity. The opportunity of seeing her again, of avenging her - of saving her, perhaps.
Everything was in this perhaps.
Following his confrontation with the frog and his companions, he had been, for the first time in a long time, seized with an uncontrolled fear.
Was he that weak? To the point of losing when confronted by such cowards? Would he stand up against Lavos when the time came?
And now, one more question intruded his thoughts: would he be able to save Schala?
In his childhood memories, he had seen her disappear, while being caught in this immense dark distortion. And then, nothing.
No more news. No way to know what had happened.
It was when he grew up that he realized. If the summoning of Lavos had indeed enabled the Kingdom of Zeal to attain an ultimate ideal, perfection and unmatched power, then the future should not have looked like this.
Where were the clouds, the snow and the sun?
Where were the white towers with golden roofs of the Kingdom?
The gardens, the rivers falling from the sky?
Gone. Annihilated.
And with them, Schala, without a doubt.
Replaced by this awful sticky fog.
The most horrible thing about this was that he didn't know how his sister had perished. As a result, it was impossible for him to make a plan to ensure her safety.
He was completely destitute.
‘I have to accept it,’ he said to himself.
The idea was to do his best.
Magus had decided to go straight to his room for the night. Not that he needed any sleep, but he wanted to remove that suffocating hood he kept on his head all the time.
His looks were off-putting and would have led to too many questions. Only the Queen had seen him, demanding the stranger to reveal himself in her presence during his first audience. The lie that an accident of magic had transformed him had been enough to convince her, and to allow him to keep the headgear on a daily basis.
It was actually more truthful than pure invention, but Magus had preferred to convince himself over time that his appearance was due to a choice. His choice.
Not to a painful combination of circumstances, no.
He finally arrived in the room, and within the center sat a bed with richly embroidered sheets. Magus was wary of closing the door behind him, so that no onlooker would inadvertently discover his pointy ears, nor his red eyes. The shadow of his hood was reliably dark enough so that no one had ever noticed.
Neither should anyone see the scars streaking his muscular arms, hidden in the layers of his cloak. Nor his hair, so long, with blue much too pale. Nor his canines, which he was careful not to show too much when he spoke. He resorted to murmuring most of the time, so that he was not questioned about their animal aspect.
Too much about his appearance was out of place. It was better to stay hidden.
Opening the fibula and lowering the hood, he let the heavy, thick fabric fall in his footsteps, making his way to the chest of drawers to his right, where a carved crystal decanter filled with sweet alcohol awaited him, as well as a glass with similar patterns.
His reward of the day.
He also took off his gloves, still making himself a little more comfortable.
His long claw-like fingernails were also of bad taste, he believed.
Then grabbing the carafe and bringing it closer to the glass, he finally began to make use of it, pouring the liquid carefully.
…Care he lost when he noticed, hidden on the side of the chest of drawers, a little boy with a bewildered face, his hand pressed on the muzzle of his cat with purple fur to prevent him from meowing.
The wine overflowed from the glass, staining the floor of light wood.
Janus. And Alfador. But it was obviously not the latter that worried Magus immediately.
Seeing the boy getting up in a flash in order to escape the room as quickly as possible, Magus let go of the carafe, which overturned on the dresser and grabbed Janus.
The cleaning would wait. A maid could take care of that later.
Janus cried out, Alfador extricating himself from his arms to jump to the ground, lingering for a moment at Magus's feet, before hiding under the bed.
"Let me go! Let me go! Let me-" he began to scream before Magus' large hand silenced him.
At the sight of the "claws", the little boy stopped struggling.
Not very reckless, apparently.
Magus couldn't hold it against him.
"So, little prince, going through my stuff?" He questioned in a seemingly light tone, but with a clear underlying threat.
The little boy's eyes widened in panic. He even tried to shake his head negatively, but the strength of the Prophet's hand prevented him.
Well, the intention was there. Magus had suspected it.
"So, if you weren't rummaging, what exactly were you doing here? I don't remember allowing you in," he asked him, his scarlet eyes peering at the boy. Then, he started to slowly release his grip on Janus' face in order to let him explain. "Don't yell, or I'll gag you," he warned.
The child was terrified, there was no way he would knowingly disobey him.
"A-Alfador had been hiding here and-and…" Janus began to stammer, so much that he was barely understandable, "I-I followed him b-but I just wanted to-"
Magus clapped his hand against his mouth again. Janus raised his voice as the explanations went on - likely due to stress - and the last thing he wanted was to rouse the whole palace. But he understood what had happened, and cursed his cat. 'Hell, Alfador! Why did you have to recognize me?'
The damage was done, and now Janus knew his face.
Of course, he could never have understood the truth behind his identity. Magus was too old now, and magic hadn't helped his case. But still, the boy was part of that list of people called " those who must never see me for any reason " and, even if Schala was on top, Janus was a close second.
(Dalton was also there, a few rows below. A man like him would have been quick to report it to anyone who cared to listen - in other words, the entire population of the Floating Kingdom.)
Magus thought for a moment.
What to do with Janus?
He could have continued to intimidate him, since it seemed to have an effect on the boy, to make sure he didn't share his discovery with anyone, but he did know himself.
Sooner or later, Schala was going to find out. It was very simple, he remembered telling her everything when he was little.
And Schala was smart. Too clever to know.
Thus, he knew he had to convince the boy to keep his mouth shut using another method than threats. Magus had to be sure that none other than Janus came to know what he looked like.
What was the solution, then?
In fact, it came to him very quickly.
If threatening Janus directly would not have had the desired effect, attacking his sister, on the other hand... Magus knew that. He would never have done anything that could have risked her life.
He didn't really like the idea, but never mind. It was the best he had, and the most efficient.
“You're going to listen to me very, very carefully," he began, seeing if he could manage to focus Janus' full attention on what he said. "Good. You won't tell anyone what you just saw. Not a word. Not a single piece of information about my appearance. Nothing. " He insisted on this last word.
Janus nodded sharply as best he could.
"Most importantly, don't report any of this to Schala," he added, and as Janus went to protest, he insisted again, " nothing . I know you were going to tell her anyway. I know everything , kid. I'm not a prophet for no reason. And let me tell you that she will be in grave danger if she learns. I’ve seen it. I know it."
Janus shivered under his words, unsure how to react otherwise. Schala? In danger? No, no, no, it couldn't happen, it wasn't possible.
He was going to protect Schala. No matter the cost.
Magus felt a small fragment of resolution once the tremors passed in the boy, so he finally decided to let him go. However, and although his face was now free, the wizard continued to hold him by the arm, the grip still strong.
"Are we in agreement?"
A nod of his head, firm enough for him to be convinced, answered him. He let go of Janus' arm, who immediately pulled away from him without further ado.
Magus listened to the small hurried footsteps echoing in the hallway, as Alfador climbed out from under the bed to join his master, but not without demanding a caress from the mage in the process. Magus quickly obliged him.
Good. The message had been passed.
Magus was rather proud of himself. He had managed to settle this matter brilliantly. From now on, he would be more careful to close his door before leaving his room, and would take a tour of it before undressing.
He could never be too careful. This incident was proof of that.
But everything was fine now. Janus wouldn't say a word, and he wouldn't have to worry about Schala knowing anymore.
He glanced at his overturned carafe on the dresser. It was not empty.
Looking at it for a moment, he grabbed it and drank from the pitcher.
He deserved his reward - today more than any other.
XXXXXXXXX
But the truth is that it only took a few days for Magus to regret his assurance. Three, to be exact.
The mage had just returned to his room, like every evening.
And at the sight of the boy and his cat sitting on his bed, he couldn't hold back an exasperated sigh.
"Hello, Prophet. Alfador and I will be staying here for a while. I have some questions for you."
The boy was not smiling.
Magus knew he had made a mistake.