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It really was stunning, Glück mused to himself, how well a demon could adapt. In just a year since Macht’s arrival in Weise, the demon had integrated himself seamlessly into human society. Perhaps, it should not be too surprising. After all, deception is a natural skill of demons.
Thinking back to their first meeting; however, Glück remembers Macht’s behavior was a far cry from his current charm. His speech was blunt, showing neither tact, nor respect. His face was immovable in its blankness, cold and glacial. He attacked without warning and threatened Glück at the slightest movement.
Indeed, Macht had made quite a change. Now, he gave a gentle smile when someone spoke to him. Now, he addressed people with appropriate titles. Now, he pressed his hand to his chest with a shallow bow. For all that he seemed unable to understand human emotions, he was certainly skilled at feigning them. Horns aside, Macht was the very image of a perfect servant.
Well, almost perfect, Glück conceded. There was only one exception to Macht’s faultless manners: posture. It would go unnoticed by most. His standing posture was as flawless as the rest of his appearance, back straight, head level, feet evenly spaced, hands by his side, never fidgeting. He maintained this perfection when bowing or kneeling. Each movement was elegant and deliberate, conveying respect and deference without sycophancy.
It was only his seated posture that one could criticize, and given his position in service to Glück and the people of Weiss, most would never catch a glimpse of Macht appearing uncouth. Sitting with his legs spread, back hunched, arms resting on his thighs, and often listing slightly to one side, Macht struck a graceless image. A far cry from the veneer of the devoted servant, he looked entirely the part of a careless demon. Casual to the point of arrogance. Unguarded because there was nothing to guard against, no threat, not to him at least. A demon in his natural state.
Seeing Macht like this, seated in the drawing room where Glück had told him to wait, always brought him back to their first meeting.
Abruptly, Macht turned his head toward the slightly open door from which Glück had been observing him for several minutes. “Lord Glück,” he acknowledged, standing, then bowing, hand on his chest with perfect posture.
Glück, unsurprised at Macht’s keenness, despite the door being in the demon’s blind spot, stepped into the room. He rounded the sofa Macht had previously been perched upon and let himself fall into the armchair directly opposite. “That was tiresome. Lord Schnee requested to speak to me without your presence, but nothing he said was particularly riveting,” Glück complained, loosening his cravat. “He went on about how untrustworthy you are, that you have ulterior motives, that demons think nothing of killing humans,” he scoffed, “as if that weren’t obvious.”
Watching him pull a cigarette case from his pocket, Macht stepped forward. The moment Glück placed the cigarette in his mouth, a little flame flickered to life at the tip of the demon’s finger, lighting it. Promptly, Macht stepped back but remained on his feet, until the lord waved his hand, gesturing for him to sit.
Glück observed his servant closely. Macht, who was almost unsettlingly smooth in all his movements, settled carelessly onto the couch, spreading his legs and hunching over. Noticing his master’s stare, Macht asked, “Is there something unusual about me today, Lord Glück?”
“Not specifically today, but it is unusual”, came the casual response.
“I thought you had long since grown familiar with me.” He smiled sardonically as he quipped, “Have you begun to regret inviting a demon into your home?”
That prompted a scoff of disbelief from Glück, “When did I ever say regret. I was talking about your appearance.”
“I can alter my appearance if you desire it, my lord. I have heard others whispering about my ‘gaudy clothes’, but I didn’t think you were concerned about such things.”
Glück just smiled. He wondered if Macht was unaware of how inappropriate he looked while seated. It was an odd oversight, considering the efforts the demon had made to adapt to social etiquette. Ever the co-conspirator, Glück’s amusement, prompted a matching smile from Macht. “What amuses, my lord?”
Deciding to be direct, Glück answered, “The way you sit is at odds with everything else you do. Standing, bowing, walking, and fighting you always look elegant. But the moment you sit down that all disappears.”
Blinking, Macht looked down at himself, as if he had only just noticed his hunched posture. “I see,” he mused, “I suppose I’ve never given it much thought, but if it is an issue, I can adjust.” Efficient as ever, Macht began to rearrange himself into something more proper, straightening his back, crossing one leg over the other, and clasping his hands demurely on his lap. Smiling as if greatly satisfied by his work, Macht asked, “Is this better, Lord Glück?”
From anyone else, Glück would take such an action to be mockery, an overstated correction of a minor fault. From Macht? Glück knew that the demon would take any step he believed necessary to his mission of coexistence.
It was objectively an improvement. Poor posture would not be out of place for a common man, but the servant of the Lord of Weise must be held to higher standards. And a demon of Macht’s power and reputation must appear as pleasant and docile as possible to the citizens. Macht's typical manner of sitting made him look standoffish, unacceptable in polite society.
Yes, objectively an improvement.
However, there was something…off-putting about this change.
How strange that this should bother Glück when all of Macht’s conformity to human niceties did no more than spark mild interest and amusement. There was no specific reason for his feelings, except that this did not suit Macht. That was the crux of it. That odd manner of sitting was a quirk unique to Macht as an individual. It was not born from a demon’s instincts or a human’s teachings. It was something honest that would be washed away if Glück commanded so.
“No, there is no need to change the way you sit. It doesn’t bother me, and you hardly ever sit in the company of those who would care.”
“Well then, as you say, my lord,” Macht replied. He slid out of his strict posture, uncrossing his legs and relaxing back into his typical slouch. He looked like himself again.