Chapter Text
Leonard's tired eyes flickered from one candle on his home-made altar to the other.
He had repeatedly tried to pray to the Fool, then to the Evernight Goddess, then to the Fool, and then to the Lady of Stars again - and so on, until the candles had burnt down almost completely, wax dripping and pooling on the simple wooden table.
The entire living room was filled with the mixed stench of several different burnt herbs.
Klein.
By every orthodox deity in this world, please be safe.
Please.
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplea-
"That's enough, kid."
The old man's voice sounded tired too.
He had not said anything up until now, letting Leonard go rampant freely.
Now that his host had somewhat calmed down, Pallez tried to reassure the young man.
"You don't need to worry that much, boy, the Fool treasures your friend deeply."
Leonard didn't answer, just stared blankly at no specific point in front of him.
"Gods have a special relationship to their Blessed, 'He' will ensure your friend's safety."
The marauder angel sighed exhausted.
"Go to sleep now - whatever happens, happens, and you will not be able to make a difference."
Even he, a sleepless, needed to rest at some point- yet he hadn't seen his bed in days.
Worry was gnawing in his heart, rendering him sleepless and on his knees, praying, as this was the only option left for him.
... and now Mr. Fool wasn't answering prayers.
Leonard's hands were slightly shaking, he clenched them together in front of him in a weak attempt to stop them.
The assassination of King George III had been a success.
Oddly enough, this was good news for Leonard.
A rather strange point of view considering his standing in the church and as an official beyonder.
But whenever it came to matters regarding Klein, Leonard's moral compass was temporarily on break anyway.
He knew Klein had been somehow involved in the assassination - while he did have no exact details about what was going on or why Mr. Fool would want the death of the loenese king in the first place, the operation was successful.
This is a good sign.
A good sign.
Leonard repeated several times in his head.
... yet the Fool did not answer.
The young poet remembered clearly the aftermath of the King's death.
The chaos.
The panic.
On friday, the king was assassinated, his projection exploded in colourful fireworks right in front of his ministers and the majority of nobility.
Leonard had prayed for the first time, hoping to get a reply, a simple: "I am safe" from the one he cherished most.
On saturday, still no answer.
He used the summoning ritual for Klein's messenger, Reinette Tinekerr, and that was when everything spiraled out of control.
Leonard still shuddered when he thought of the icy red eyes studying him, eight in total. Followed by a voice that was just as cold:
"I... cannot... sense...him...anymore..."
These were the only words she said.
Then she took his gold coin before entering the spirit world and vanishing once again.
Leonard had stood there.
The Fool had hinted on the last tarot gathering that the next one on monday might not happen.
Had he foreseen what was about to happen?
Had he made plans that also included the safety of his Blessed?
Always believe in the might of god but never their benevolence.
Leonard gritted his teeth.
He could not lose Klein. Not again.
Without saying anything else to the old man, Leonard curled up on the hard, wooden floor of his living room.
Sleep did not come at first - and when it did, it was filled with the taste of ash, blood, the wailing screams of Megose and Klein's lifeless eyes, looking at the empty sky.
Several painful hours later, the clear ringing of his door bell shook him wildly awake. Startled, like an animal that was found deep in hiding, Leonard quickly got up.
The large clock on the wall above the dark green couch showed 10:22pm.
At this hour, who could it possibly be?
One look through the window, Leonard could see that the night had long put its starry veil on the streets and houses of Backlund.
He could barely recognize the road outside through the thick grey fog that had draped itself in between houses, dimming the light of the street lamps.
"Old man, who is at the door?" Leonard asked, his voice still slurred and raspy from sleep.
He was greeted with silence.
Leonard had long gotten used to the old man not answering every one of his questions, so he did not pay it any mind.
The young poet lazily walked outside the living room towards the entrance.
"Kid. Do not open that door."
Leonard froze.
He had never heard the old man's voice like this. A tone he had never heard before -
Still composed, still like the old man, yet..
... bordering so closely to fear.
There has never been one instance when the old man was scared in the first place, and then failed to hide it so that even Leonard could pick it up.
Any kind of tiredness left him replaced by raw focus practiced as a seasoned beyonder.
Leonard breathed out slowly, one hand opening the drawer of the dresser next to him.
He pulled out his gun but left the holster there.
His eyes never left the door.
He could see the grey fog hovering behind the stained glass, but could not make out a person standing there.
"Old man - who do you see outside?"
His voice was barely a whisper.
After a couple of seconds that felt like eternity, the old angel finally replied:
"You can put the gun back, kid, it won't save either of us."
Leonard swallowed.
"What is behind the door, old man?"
The young poet repeated his question once again.
His heart raced, beating painfully in his chest. This kind of reaction from the old man -
Don't tell me Blasphemer Amon is behind the door?
Cold sweat gathered on Leonard's forehead.
The old man must've guessed his train of thought and retorted rather harshly:
"It's not the Blasphemer. At least I think..."
After a short pause the marauder angel added:
"It looks like your former colleague"
Klein!
Without a second thought about the impending danger, Leonard yanked the door open successfully revealing the man behind who had been patiently waiting for the two men to finish their conversation.
Damp, grey fog rolled across the threshold into the hallway, curling around Leonard's ankles.
The old man cursed loudly in Leonard's head before abruptly going silent when faced with the mysterious visitor.
The poet took in the tall man's appearance.
A long, dark coat reaching past his knees.
Beneath it, a perfectly tailored black suit - black jacket, black vest, white shirt. No tie. The suit looked expensive, immaculate.
Flawless.
His face was pale, almost ghostly in the dim light, with sharp, angular features that the fog seemed to emphasize rather than obscure.
A simple black monocle rested on his left eye.
Without a doubt, this was Gehrman Sparrow.
Klein.
But at the same time, he was not.
Ignoring the untypical monocle completely, it was his eyes that truly unnerved Leonard, that truly did not fit the picture of his dearest friend.
One eye golden, the other one as black as the abyss.
Leonard shuddered, instinctively taking one step back.
"Good evening, Mr. Star."
The visitor's voice was gentle and kind - reminding Leonard of dark honey and liquid amber.
He knew that voice. He had heard it countless times before.
Usually in a place shrouded in grey fog.
Usually, far, far away, at the other end of the table.
Usually, a god did not ring your door at half past eleven on a sunday night.
"Good evening to you too, Mr. Zoroast."
The ancient god continued his greeting, not minding Leonard staring at him as if he would have two heads.
"Mr. Fool!" Leonard exclaimed eloquently, at a loss for words.
The smile on Klein's - Mr. Fool's face was amicable.
"My apologies for disturbing your sunday evening so suddenly."
The god tilted his head slightly to the right.
"While I am not well versed in human customs and manners, Mr. Star, won't you invite me in?"
Leonard nodded blankly, stepping aside and making way for the god to enter.
Then he snapped out of his trance and hurriedly rambled an apology that the Fool only answered with another, simple smile.
A couple of minutes later, Leonard poured hot herbal tea into one of his porcelain cups wondering what decisions in life had led him to serve tea to an ancient god - sitting on his couch, in his living room, that was closer to a state of entropy than anything else -
In Leonard's defense, he had spent the past days worrying his soul out of his body and cleaning had been his lowest priority.
Now, he regretted it deeply.
Mr. Fool elegantly put the cup to his lips, taking a sip.
The god glanced over the rim of his teacup at the self-made last minute built home altar whose making had been accompanied by several mental breakdowns and crashing outs on Leonard's side.
Now, Leonard was both regretful and horribly embarrassed.
To be fair, he had not expected Mr. Fool to personally come to inspect his crash-out-is-klein-safe?-altar at all.
Mr. Fool chuckled lightly and put his teacup down.
"My apologies for not answering your prayers sooner, Mr. Star. I had been occupied with certain matters that required my full attention"
He poked the monocle with one gloved hand before explaining additionally:
"Furthermore, I had to put particular restrictions and limits on myself. When a god descends in a human body, it's best to have most of your abilities sealed away to avoid harming your vessel."
Vessel?
By vessel, did he mean...?
Mr. Fool nodded.
"I used Mr. World's body to play a little game with Amon in the forsaken land of the gods. As you can see-"
He pointed to his monocle.
"The matter has been taken care of."
The smile on Mr. Fool's face was genuine and so unsettling the young poet couldn't move.
Only the old man inquired:
"Does this mean you have successfully defeated the Blasphemer?"
Before Leonard could repeat old man's question like he was used to, Mr. Fool already answered.
"That's right. This is also why I wasn't sure whether I would hold the next tarot gathering as planned..."
Mr. Fool sighed.
"After all, digesting a King of Angels takes time."
A simple sentence, completely uprooting Leonard's understanding of this world.
Of course.
The difference between a true god and an angel.
No, that was not quite accurate. Amon had a field trip in the fourth epoch with the orthodox churches, this was not simply because of their standing in sequence.
The difference between Mr. Fool and a King of angels.
"However, Mr. Zoroast, there is no need for worry. I have no interest in your sequence 1 characteristic. Amon's will suffice completely."
The jester hummed.
"As you know, Mr. Star, I am quite fond of equivalent exchange. So of course, as a reward for lending me his body, I was willing to fulfill him one wish."
One wish.
A wish granted by a true god.
"Can you guess what his wish was, Mr. Star?"
Leonard's mind raced. After killing Ince Zangwill, after living and completing his revenge, what was left there for Klein to crave?
What did Klein want so deeply?
"You."
"Huh?"
Leonard blurted out, not sure what to make of this answer.
Mr. Fool smiled and took his sweet time drinking another sip of his tea.
"You, Mr. Star."
The god repeated, as if that would have already told everything.
Leonard would've loved to have a more in- depth explanation, what did Mr. Fool mean by that?!
Mr. Fool must've noticed his confusion and added smoothly:
"He wished to be brought to you for recovery and for you to stay at his side."
Leonard's heart skipped a beat, the traitorous thing did not want to believe what his ears had heard in the first place.
Klein... Klein had wished ... for Leonard to be at his side.
For them to be together again.
Klein had wished to see Leonard - not just to see Leonard - but for Leonard to take care of him when he was the most vulnerable.
If Leonard had ever doubted the trust Klein, a man who collected secrets like other people postage stamps, felt towards him, this was the proof saying otherwise.
Klein was given the opportunity to have a god fulfill his wish and he had wished for Leonard, the poet realized.
Words could hardly describe the warmth filling his chest, easing the built up anxiety and worry that had been plaguing him for so long.
The Fool gave Leonard a couple of seconds for digesting these news before continuing in that mellow voice of his:
"I wasn't sure how to grant this wish, as it entirely depends on you. So we've come to an agreement that, once I was done settling my business with Amon, I would bring his body to you, Mr. Star, and to leave the rest to the two of you."
Now, everything started making sense. Why Mr. Fool had been ringing his doorbell and was now comfortably sitting on his couch, leisurely sipping his herbal tea.
And it would also mean that Leonard would be meeting Klein any moment now, as soon as Mr. Fool would return to the place above the grey fog.
The god came to the same conclusion, emptying the cup and placing the porcelain back on the tea saucer.
"Before I take my leave Mr. Star, there is something I would like to give you."
The god pulled a silver necklace out of thin air and handed it to Leonard.
Except for a silver main piece depicting the rune of the Fool, the necklace seemed to have no special properties.
Before Leonard could ask more questions, Mr. Fool clarified further:
"This necklace will shield off Pallez Zoroast senses completely."
Leonard's eyes snapped from the necklace back to Mr. Fool.
Did Mr. Fool not say there was no bad blood between the old man and him?
"This necklace only has one purpose, Mr. Star, there is no need to overthink this matter. I just figured it would be helpful should Mr. World and you need some privacy."
Heat crawled up Leonard's neck and face when he heard the Fool's words.
What was Mr. Fool implying? Leonard would just take care of Klein in his vulnerable state! Nothing more!
The Fool winked playfully, so unlike how Leonard would imagine a god to act.
Then he leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes, his breathing slowing down.
"Thanks for the tea, Mr. Star, I will leave Mr. World in your capable hands."
The clock on the wall clicked, the hands freezing for a second, jumping back a couple of minutes, back to exactly 10:22pm.
Except for that, nothing extraordinary happened.
The man on the couch slowly slumped to the side.
"Klein!"
In two strides, Leonard was around the coffee table at the couch, grabbing his friend's shoulders and shaking him slightly.
Klein-
The man finally opened his eyes again, golden and black.
Leonard froze.
What?
"My apologies."
The Fool said again.
"I forgot my monocle."
He placed one gloved hand at the monocle and Leonard watched still frozen how it curled and vanished into grey fog.
Then Mr. Fool closed his eyes again.
Had the Fool always been such a prankster? Or was this the side effect of acquiring his sequence 0 beyonder characteristic of the marauder pathway back?
The poor clock on the wall went back in time again.
Then, the man opened his eyes again and this time-
Finally-
Finally-
The brown eyes Leonard came to treasure so much over the past year.
Klein blinked, trying to orient himself, his eyes flickering past Leonard to the messy living room and back to Leonard.
"I love you."
The words were blurted out, seemingly coming out of nowhere yet from the bottom of his very heart and soul.
Both Leonard and Klein looked at each other as if the other one had just lost his mind.
Pallez Zoroast's aged voice sounded in Leonard's ears:
"Please, just wear the necklace. I will be taking a nap, kid."