Chapter Text
What can Merasmus do for peace and quiet?
Anything!
The warm spring day, was giving way to a bright orange sunset. The last rays of the setting sun illuminated the roof of the castle. It was such a strange and old castle that a normal person would have bypassed it. This building would no longer be saved by repairs, but people lived in it.
A restless, noisy mercenary and a dark wizard. So different, but living under the same roof.
The wizard had a ritual planned, and he hoped that the noisy misunderstanding would get tired and go to bed or something. As time allowed, Merasmus prepared the room for the upcoming ritual.
Evening passed and night fell. Stars began to appear in the sky. There was little else to do. Wait for the moonlight to flood the room, through the hole in the roof.
At last the moon rose and stood in position. Evil does not sleep this night. The mage had prepared carefully for this night, drawing symbols on the floor, pouring his blood into a vessel. He read out a spell that required concentration and attention. Misrepresentation of words could have played a very bad joke.
Loud noises were heard from somewhere below, the mage tried not to pay attention, except his patience didn't last long.
Who can withstand the shouting and recruiting of raccoons?! Especially when these furry beasts were tearing your house apart. Thoughts were confused, words were changing. Merasmus couldn't stand it, misreading already very different words from the spell. The man shouted something in a dead language and flew off in a rage to kill his housemate. The jar of incanted blood fell, spilling a scarlet liquid on the symbols, which in turn began to shine, giving life to something new.
A boy, maybe thirteen or fifteen, woke up to a loud clap of thunder. The rain was drumming on the rotten roof. Somewhere the rain had managed to get through the cracks and holes, falling in large drops through the already soaked floorboards, which were already covered in moss or mushrooms. The boy didn't care about the condition of the house he was living in, he was more concerned about the dream he was having. He would sit for another hour or two and then just go back to sleep on the soft moss and hay, and he would sort out the dream in the morning.