Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Fanboy

"Well," Mulock said flatly as Wheeler entered the room. "It turns out I have a fan."

The Count watched on in silence from beside the door, his gaze tracking Wheeler's every movement as he looked around his chambers.

If Count Vivok had seemed withered in his portrait, it was nothing compared to his current state. The man's face was sunken, his flesh hanging loosely from a bony frame. The garments that clung to his gaunt figure looked like they'd once been worth a small fortune. Now, however, they were worn and rotting, just like the rest of his castle.

"You must be a lucky man for his lordship to consider you a friend," the Count breathed.

"His... lordship?" Wheeler repeated.

Count Vivok approached a massive painting of Mulock that rested at the back of the room. Despite the fact that the painting was clearly meant to be Mulock, the image just seemed... wrong. The smile was too wide, the look in his eyes gleeful and sparkling as he reveled in the slaughter depicted around him.

"I assure you, it didn't go like that," Mulock whispered to Wheeler. "I ran away the moment the fire took hold like a scared little kid."

"I had these commissioned," the Count murmured softly, lost in his own little world. "He deserved to be properly commemorated." He reached out, gently running his bony fingers across the painted corpses. "History tried to say he was a monster, but I've always known the truth. He was a hero."

Looking utterly exhausted, Mulock rolled his eyes, lowering his voice so only Wheeler could hear. "He's kept me stuck in this room for the past four hours singing my praises. It's been bloody awful."

"As a society, we've grown so weak," Vivok murmured, his fingers now brushing up to trace the painted fire. "We've become entrapped by a flawed justice system, run by the very monsters who benefit from it." His lip curled. "Things like courts, and trials, and evidence, they're all ploys designed by them to keep the justice in their hands, not the people." He looked to Mulock, a dreamy grin spreading across his face. "But lord Mulock understood that. He saw that no one was doing what needed to be done, and so he took justice into his own hands and prevailed."

"And," Mulock said flatly, "as I've said for about the hundredth time tonight, it was a massive mistake and I got executed for it."

"It wasn't a mistake! You gave your life to see justice done," Vivok said. "You were a martyr. There's nothing more noble than that."

Mulock let out an exasperated sigh and Wheeler assumed this same exchange must have happened countless times before he'd arrived.

"I don't even know why I try," Mulock muttered. "There's no use arguing with a madman."

Mulock had a point. And speaking of... Wheeler had a feeling that for safety's sake, they should get out of this man's chambers as soon as possible.

Wheeler's gaze fell to the Count who still stood before the painting, staring up at the fire and corpses as if mesmerized.

"Well, thank you for showing us your lovely room, sir," Wheeler said nervously. "But um... it's very late and, uh..." he glanced anxiously to Mulock, "his lordship probably needs his rest."

"Immensely," Mulock muttered.

"So," Wheeler continued, "we'll be heading back to our rooms now. Thank you so much for your hospitality."

Luckily, the Count made no move to stop them as human and demon began to back away towards the door. As they were about to slip from the room, however, he suddenly spoke.

"It's a sign," he murmured, his voice strangely distant. "Lord Mulock, whom I worshipped for so long, appearing before me now, of all times. What I'm meant to do couldn't be clearer. The day of reckoning shall finally come for them." A smile tugged at the corner of his thin, cracked lips, something wild coming over his gaze. "Justice will be done and my beloved lord Mulock has shown me the path."

The words made Wheeler's stomach turn and he was incredibly thankful when Mulock grabbed him by the arm, pulling him out into the hallway and away from that dreadful room.

"Well," Mulock said flatly, "that wasn't ominous at all."

"What do you think he means?" Wheeler asked, his voice tight with nerves. "What day of reckoning?"

"No idea," Mulock replied. "This might come as a massive shock, but it's surprisingly difficult to decipher the ramblings of a deranged lunatic."

Wheeler swallowed hard. Mulock was right, as always. Figuring out what exactly the unhinged count had meant seemed nearly impossible.

All he could do was hope they really were just ramblings.

If they weren't, then...

Wheeler shook his head.

He didn't want to think what might be in store for them if they weren't.