The Final Life

by Andrew Mowere

  ***

  “Are you done?” asked Glint with the edge of resentment apparent in his voice. The young servant taking care of his bag just grinned and said, “In a bit, young master,” scratching his stubbled chin as he rummaged inside the bag for something he wasn’t sure he’d put in. This young man was called David, and was a new addition to the manor, taking a similar role to Mary’s, with a manlier twist. Tim had decided that some female guests would enjoy a handsome change.

  Even though Glint was perfectly capable of living alone and packing his own bags, Azrael had taken one look at the contents of the backpack he had painstakingly gotten together, choked on his own laughter, and emptied its contents unto the floor. At that point David had needed to hold Glint back from flying into his ATB-turned travel companion, and then Azrael took the chance to put the new servant in charge of “arranging the young master’s travel gear”, giving David a list of what to put into his backpack. Glint looked at the list and saw why David was originally confused, for he could see no use for some of the list’s items: colourful cloaks that would cover a man from head to toe, roses preserved in jars, tiny cups that looked more like thimbles than anything else, and a long ornate dagger.

  Meanwhile, Azrael was taking the time to run Tim through his new job, Glint knew. The boy had turned out to be a perfectly capable young man, and would do reasonably well in filling the enormous gap Azrael’s absence would certainly cause. Tim however, had one advantage over his predecessor, and that was his musical genius. It seemed the new lord could charm anybody if he got the chance to sing a song. Glint envied him that ability, for his own voice resembled a frog’s croak more than anything else, and his callused hands could only hold weapons and work hammers.

  Tim would do well, thought Glint to himself as David said, “All done, young master,” and handed him the backpack. It was well balanced when he placed it on his shoulder. “Where is Mary?” he asked the servant, who just shook his head indicating his lack of knowledge.

  “Oh well,” he said. He didn’t want to say goodbye to her anyway. A part of Glint was frightened that he would ask her to go with them if he saw her, and he entertained the thought as he walked towards Azrael’s room. No, he decided, it wouldn’t do to put the girl into whatever dangers Azrael was surely going to plunge them in. There weren’t any feelings between the two, at any rate. It was going to be a long trip until they reached Mount Ash’s middle, where Quicksilver made its home. Glint sighed. He wasn’t going to ask her to come.

  “Anything the matter, sir?” asked David worriedly, startling Glint.

  “Oh no, just that Azrael still hasn’t said exactly where he wants to go.” He caught David’s confusion and laughed. “He’s just fickle that way. And don’t call me sir, I’m plain old Glint now.”

  That seemed to shock David. “But you’re the old master of this house!” he said. It seemed he thought quite highly of positions. Therefore Glint retorted, “Yeah, and before that I was just a brat in a mercenary band. Relax, David, we’re all human here.” David smiled in relief at that and Glint smiled back at him. He wondered what would become of the poor bloke in the future if he kept thinking in ladders.

  They kept walking briskly side by side, Glint limping only a bit. His recovery speed had come to a shock to everybody in the manor save for Azrael, not least of all to Glint himself. Before his awakening the injuries he suffered would have taken many months for him to be able to take a single step, and he wouldn’t have survived Alfjoetr’s attacks at all in the first place. He now felt the flow of his qi quite keenly, and he had more control over the shape of his armbands, which he’d turned into a single gauntlet. Now as they walked into a darker part of the house, it started to illuminate his way with a soft silvery light, which was not only annoying but also scared David. With a yelp he backed away, saying something along the lines of “s-s-s-ss-s-”

  Glint sighed. “Don’t be afraid , I swear you’ll be unharmed,” he said soothingly.

  The servant still didn’t look reassured, and in fact pressed himself against the wall tightly. It was to be expected, honestly. Some people were terrified of Ability users. Some had reason to be, thought Glint darkly to himself as he said to David, “Look, we know each other. Granted, not well, but I swear I won’t hurt you. I just can’t control the light very well yet.” He took a step forward to show the man he had nothing in his hands.

  At that, David seemed to calm down enough to back away from Glint, after which he sprinted towards another part of the manor as fast as his legs could carry him. Glint’s sigh this time was tinged with a bit of sadness, and he thought not about how the light from his gauntlets could give him away to potential enemies in the dark, but rather about whether discrimination against Normals was worse than that which Ability users suffered when they tried to reach out.

  Glint stood a second before the door of his butler’s room in the servant’s quarters. In the lightless corridor everything looked sinister. This was his former house, however, so Glint opened the door to his companion’s room- and ducked under the shoe that was thrown right at his face with relative ease, wincing just a bit.

  “Knock, would you?” barked Azrael.

  Glint straightened himself just in time to notice that the room was darker than it should be, as if the shadows were extended, despite the window being open and allowing plenty of sunlight in. Just as he was about to say something the effect retreated before Glint’s eyes, leaving the room in its usual cheery sunshine and illuminating Azrael’s modest yet elegant furnishing of his sleeping quarters, between bleached white wood and black cloth. Glint was left wondering if he had imagined the effect. The man himself looked annoyed, his eyes a cold shade as he said, “Well?”

  “What was that?” asked Glint.

  “What was what?” came back the butler innocently, with a smile. He saw that Glint wasn’t buying it this time however, and shrugged. “How about I tell you later?” he offered instead.

  Glint wasn’t convinced, but said, “Alright, but it had better be a good story. I’ve been waiting for this since we met. Oh yeah, I’ve finished packing. I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

  After seeming to ponder something for an instant, Azrael bowed deeply and formally, taking Glint aback with his unnatural and untimely seriousness. “This shall be the last time I bow to you as my superior, young master,” he announced, and Glint recognised that this was part of decorum. “From now on, we are equals, brothers on the basest of terms.” The words were said cordially. However, when he straightened, Azrael gave his usual musical laugh. “Now, let’s get the fun part started,” he announced jovially, hands rubbing against one another in planned mischief. “We leave in an hour!”

  The man’s enthusiasm was infectious and Glint found himself grinning in turn. However, as he left the room he said, “Oh, one more thing… what kind of gentleman throws a shoe?”

  Azrael had the decency to look chastised, at the very least.