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Two months have passed since the seal broke and Eclipsites escaped their everlasting undersea prison. Two months have passed since the exotic beast Greedo averted the catastrophe threatening the serene town. And two months have passed since Elvis Modali, the former Laird of Harbor City, made his last promises to the circus ringmaster.
Now the City had a new Laird, Lumopolis took care to choose some inoffensive, bland even, nobleman not to enrage already troubled citizens. Elvis, still in a state of coma, was relocated to a small but cozy house in the suburbs, where under medical care, he was awaiting his trial. Although the whole process was supposed to be kept out of the public eye, some loyal supporters of the ex-ruler tracked down this location and were often offering flowers, letters and other small get-well-soon gifts for their beloved Laird.
A little girl of poor health condition showed up today with a couple of yellow roses. Now they stood in a vase on the bedside table, their leaves shifting slightly in the wind blowing through the open window. With sunlight playing between flowers' petals it made a quite charming picture, which in precise lines and shapes started to fill the empty space on the paper, next to quick scribbles of a seaside scenery and the outline of a whale in a glass bottle. There was also a place for the provisional sketches of the Emerald and Lady Victoria's hair ornament, but the shapes didn't seem right, so Jeno abandoned these ideas. He much preferred working with references.
The references. If he wanted that, right in front of him, he had the perfect frame of a man lying on the bed. Not moving, not needing a break – the ideal model, a dream of many artists. But whenever he tried to draw Elvis, his lines were starting to shake, his throat felt so unbearably tightened that even intense coughing couldn't overcome it and, for some reason, his vision was losing its usual sharpness. Lots of torn and crumpled pages from his sketchbook scattered on the floor showed his constant, futile attempts. A maid evidently gave up on keeping up with Magician, who was storming in and out at any time, almost every day, always leaving signs of his work.
Jeno shifted in his chair trying to find a more comfortable position but as he moved, he felt one card from The Origin Deck falling out of his pocket. With a deep sigh, he put down the papers and caught it. The ornate red and golden edge framing a yellow cross-like shape on blue background – The Star.
He sighed again and looked at the other man. Elvis's chest was rising and falling steadily and calmly, as if nothing of it mattered, as if he was just in an innocent dream. But it was just an illusion, easy to look through. A simple white shirt he wore now instead of expensive Laird's robes, only emphasized his sickly pale complexion. He visibly withered away, despite the efforts of the medics regularly trying to nourish him with Lumina. None of them said it straight out to him, but Jeno could read from their faces and avoiding gazes that they were surprised Elvis lasted that long.
His eye unconsciously wandered over Elvis's face. Sunken cheeks and distinct Modali Syndrome marks were painful to look at, but his expression was peaceful, truly peaceful, not like the fake soothing mask he used to put in front of everyone. His gray hair has grown longer, spilled on the pillow slightly resembled the wings on the brooch he usually wore. His faint eyes were staring dimly at the ceiling.
Wait.
His eyes?
"Elvis!" Jeno shouted and sprang up closer to the bed. The frail man tried to stand up, so Jeno took him in his arms and held him up.
"Jeno? You're here..." Elvis feverishly looked around the unfamiliar room. "How long did I... How is Harbor City? The Windstone seal..."
"Calm down, Elvis! Everything's fine, calm down. I'll tell you everything, but now I have to go for help." Jeno hugged him tighter, trying to compose himself. Now he fully realized how thin and fragile Elvis's body had become, easily palpable bones, alarmingly cold, all shaky. Or was it him shaking? "I... I have to go for help. I have to go." He was whispering frantically, even though he was the one clinging to the other's man shirt as if he couldn't let go.
"Jeno..." Elvis weakly returned the hug. He tried to say more but only murmurs left his mouth. Seeing how hard he was breathing, Jeno carefully laid him back on the pillows.
"Please, don't overstrain yourself. How do you feel?" He asked with concern.
"Just... tired. But it does sound quite strange, coming from someone that slept for so long." Elvis half chuckled, half coughed.
"Don't say that."
"Yes, perhaps I shouldn't... But I feel this way. Life in Harbor City didn't stop because I was sleeping, and the problems I've caused..."
"I see your fever is getting worse, I'd better go for a medic." Jeno stood up, maybe a little bit more rapidly than he intended, and avoiding Elvis's eyes, stormed out of the room.
Medics quickly took charge of Elvis and stabilized his condition. A few servants that stayed with the former Laird seemed to suddenly wake up from some kind of torpor, filling up the house, quiet for two months, with bustle and agitation. Noises that could easily drown out sounds of the theoretical confidential conversation of national importance.
"I'm afraid that's too dangerous." The voice of a nurse was subdued, meant only for the Lumopolis guard towering over her. "His organism is still weak after waking up and his health may worsen anytime. Especially since we don't know much about Modali Syndrome and all the potential risks. At the worst, travel like this could even be lethal."
"Hm, the Hall of Justice won't be very content... But I understand, it's a complicated situation," a guard sighed. "Can you estimate how long it will take?"
"We're trying to better his state as fast as possible, but I'd say that it's the safest to estimate around the month, maybe a little less. However, the next few days will be decisive. If he will start to gain strength soon and the remission will be stable, he may be ready even in two weeks, but that's the most optimistic scenario."
Just two weeks? That's the most pessimistic scenario.
"Thank you, I'll take account of this in my report."
With a short farewell, they hurried away in different directions. Patter and sounds of the busy kitchen could be heard from the lower floor. Noises that could easily drown out sounds of the theoretical rustle of the long coat, a jingle of the chains, the card shuffling.
"In the meantime, I lost weight." Jeno once again was sitting next to Elvis's bed, now reporting to him everything that happened during those two months. "Too much actually, soon I will have to adjust my props, not drastically, but this is a bother nonetheless. Well, at least the Emerald almost got back in shape. Although we're still on hiatus, we have a lot of new ideas for the shows. Ciel – remember that Illumina girl with a mecha? – She's full of passion and we even talked about incorporating some of her machines into our spectacles. As... for the city..."
He hesitated before switching to a less comfortable subject. The atmosphere in the room seemed to tense a little bit.
"New Laird is... acceptable." He weighed his words. "He certainly did his homework and just follows in your footsteps very closely. So closely that I wouldn't be surprised if you could feel his breath against your neck. Everyone seem to accommodate, there were a few disturbances about a change of ruler, but nothing serious. You don't need to worry about potential riots, but..." His voice quieted down as he looked away from Elvis. "People miss you."
"I... Ah, I'm glad to hear Harbor City is in good hands. It puts my heart at ease," Elvis said with no ease on his face. "I'm sure people will forget about me, once the first shock is over. As they should. There wouldn't be much use of a Laird like me."
"Stop." Jeno stood up. "Everything you did, you did for the City and its people. No matter how much the civilians know, they still would want you to be their Laird. If you'd wanted..."
"But I can't. My fate is probably already decided by the Hall of Justice. I have to face the consequences of what I've done."
"You don't. We can run away."
"Jeno, please," Elvis sighed in pain, but Jeno didn't seem to hear him.
"We can take the Emerald," Jeno kneeled before the bed, taking Elvis's hand in his hand, his eye shining with sudden hope. "We can sail to the places Lumopolis will never find. I have connections, I know people who can make you disappear completely."
"But you're a magician, I thought you can do it too." A faint smile appeared on Elvis's face.
"Elvis. You know what I mean."
"I know, I know," he groaned. "But you have to understand it's not that easy. It's my duty as the former Laird of this city. I owe it to the citizens that trusted me, to the people I've failed."
Jeno frowned at the last words. He noticed his hands started shaking.
"Going to prison won't change any of that. And by doing this you can also fail some people." He couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice.
"Jeno..." Elvis's voice cracked. "I don't want to, but..."
The severe cold pierced through Jeno's chest. Unwanted memories started to run through his head, intrusive, impossible to get rid of.
"You will leave again." He finished blankly.
Every scene time and time again hurt unexpectedly, feeling almost like physical wounds. As painful as for the first time when they were happening.
"No." His breath shortened. He clung to Elvis's clothes, afraid to get lost in these thoughts. "Elvis..."
Waiting at the port with a drawing crumpled in hands. Anxiously watching the rising sun, in fear of losing the spectacle. Running around the neighborhood like a fool, just to find out that Modali family moved suddenly during the night.
"Don't leave me."
Rapid pain in the chest, vision becoming unclear. Sorely falling to the floor, only able to helplessly watch Elvis's blurry silhouette moving away toward the Emerald.
"Don't leave me again."
The Windstone painfully absorbing their energy. Harbor City reviving in the Cloudwhale's mystical light, Elvis slowly passing away in its glare. The finale, the last words, promises.
"Please."
He felt arms pulling him out of the chaos and embracing him with the most strength that Elvis's sickly body could. Feeling the warmth of his body, his hand softly stroking his hair, Jeno's breath started to calm down.
"I'm sorry," Elvis whispered. "I've never wanted to hurt you. Jeno, I..."
He held back as if he wasn't sure if he deserved to say what he wanted. He lowered his head, but the glowed hand grabbed his chin. Their eyes met, suddenly connected with the thread of mutual understanding, which came into being many years ago. Feelings, seemingly forgotten and long dead, awoke from the slumber.
"I love you, Elvis." Words slipped from Jeno's mouth without a thought, as if that was unconscious instinct.
"Jeno... I love you too." Elvis's expression soften.
They didn't notice when their faces got so close they could feel each other's breath against the skin. Their lips met in a soft, hesitant kiss. Once again they felt like these Harbor kids, innocently discovering the world, sharing every secret, watching sunrises.
For a while they stayed that way, embracing each other, processing what just happened. A shiver ran through Elvis's body.
"Jeno, you shouldn't rely on me. In this situation, I really can't promise you anything."
"You already did." Elvis frowned at this blatantly true statement.
"I can't restrict you like that. I may spend decades in prison and you deserve to be free of this burden." He coughed to hide his choked voice. "You still have your whole life ahead of you, I'll be the happiest if you would live it to the fullest. Please."
Jeno felt his willpower slowly melting under Elvis's gentle gaze. He shook that off. He fell for that trick too many times already, he couldn't let himself do this again.
"We are both such fools," he chuckled to Elvis's surprise. "You've always been like that, with one leg by the brink of a precipice, while I've just tagged along," he said, struck with sudden fervor. "But now I will put my card upright and follow my own desires."
"W-what are you talking about?" Elvis looked at him perplexed.
"You have too much power over me, Elvis." He smiled, slowly stroking the other man's cheek. "I wasn't there for so many years but my thoughts were always bound to this place, to all these memories. But the town we both loved so much is no longer the same. We can't stop that change. The remains of independence from Lumopolis we had are now taken. In reality, nothing keeps me here, well, nothing but you."
"Jeno..."
"We will always be children of Harbor City." Jeno took his hand. "But we're not chained to this Lumo nobles' creation. We don't owe them our loyalty."
Elvis listen to his words with lowered head, lost in his own thoughts.
"Since I left, my only purpose was to fulfill the role of Laird," he whispered. "But now... what can I do for my people? I thought being obedient to Lumopolis will ensure quiet, happy life for everybody. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore."
For some time they sat in silence, finally broken by Elvis's deep sigh.
"Jeno, thank you for everything." He looked deep into his eyes. "I know what I have to do now."
The main doors were opened rapidly. Barely crossing the threshold, the Lumopolis guards headed straight to their destination. Followed by unwelcoming glares from the house staff, they passed corridors, arriving in front of the door to Elvis's room. They knocked but didn't wait for an answer. Rushing inside, they quickly inspected the room. A tilted window, a vase with wilted flowers on a bedside table, and most importantly – a bed. The man on the bed, seemingly asleep, didn't react to their arrival. His face appeared emaciated and his whole state was wretched, but the guard couldn't show him mercy, even if they wanted. The leader came closer and picked up the man who showed no resistance.
"Elvis Modali." A strong voice rumbled in the room. "By order of the Hall of Justice, you're under arrest on account of abuse of power and public endangerment. You have the right to..."
He couldn't end the sentence, because the body he held a moment ago started extending and becoming less and less tangible. In shock, he tried to catch what was left of the former Laird but a hazy substance seemed to avoid his fingers. It didn't last long and guards were left alone standing in the room, surrounded by fumes of mystical smoke, like on the circus stage.
The restaurant was modest but lively, most seats taken, clients engaged in conversations. Regardless of its moderate size, there was a place for several paintings hung on the walls. The biggest one positioned in the central area depicted the scenery of the ocean. First rays of sunlight brightened the dark waters and shone in sand grains. Although the hand of an artist was clearly noticeable in accented paint facture and brush strokes, the art held a touch of realism. It caused a frame to resemble a window, the ordinary restaurant room appeared to be connected with some faraway land.
The bell above the door chimed amid the quiet hum of voices. People, busy with talking and dining, didn't seem to pay attention to a figure of a man in a gray coat that just entered. He didn't head to the closest free table. He passed by the impressive painting as if he saw it hundreds of times. With a brisk step, he headed straight to the staff quarters.
"Jeno!" Elvis took a break from preparing food to look at a newcomer. "You came back early!"
"Yes, the negotiations went smoothly." Jeno kissed him on a forehead and looked at him tenderly. Elvis still wasn't at full strength, but his skin regained its natural colors and his eyes glowed happily. "I booked new shows, this time in a nearby village so I'll be gone just for a day or two."
"That's amazing! You will tell me everything after I'm done here. But now..." Elvis grabbed a dessert spoon, took a portion from one of the pots and pointed it toward Jeno. "You have to try this mousse. Remember, honest opinion, no flattery!"
Jeno took a spoon to his mouth and made a serious, pensive face.
"Hmm, it tastes too sweet." He closely hugged the other man from behind. "Way too sweet."