[OLD] Densetsu Side-Stories

Vernal Ashes

Asher decided to take the long way to Feral's room in the manor. He would pass through the manor's garden for a quick breath. There he saw Haruko, the maid of spring, planting some seeds in the dirt. Her pink dress was stained with dirt. “Lady Haruko, what are you doing?” he asked her, concerned about her clothing.

“Why I'm planting daisies in the garden, Sir Asher!” Haruko exclaimed cheerfully. She held up the shovel she had been using, waving its white blade at Asher. “Do you like what I've done here?” She laid the shovel down on the ground beside her.

“Why yes, it is quite impressive,” Asher praised her, “However, might I provide a suggestion?”

“Certainly, Sir Asher,” Haruko replied, smiling at him gently. Asher took the seeds from Haruko's hands and spread them around the garden, placing one seed in the dirt every three inches.

“I see now!” Haruko said, “That is why the flowers weren't growing, wasn't it?”

“Give them time,” Asher advised her, “When planted apart from one another, they will grow close to each other once more. The same can be said for humans. Seeds that were close to each other in a bag, then planted far apart from one another, will grow closer to each other than ever before, given time.”

“Oh, I never thought of it that way,” Haruko looked down at her feet. “I hope then I reunite with that someone one day!”

Asher smiled at her, oblivious to who she was referring to. He waved as he re-entered the mansion and made his way to Feral's room.

“My Lord...” Asher said in a low voice, watching Feral sit alone in a dark room, dimly lit by the blue flames of candle light.

“Asher, doth thou haveth an idea of when thy skies shall so douseth my kingdom with thy teardrops?” Feral asked, not averting his gaze from the surface. “Oh, how much longer must I wait? Doth thou haveth even the slightest clue?”

“Regretfully not, my Lord.” Asher responded. “I retrieved the pen as you requested.”

“Thou doth need no longer supply me with such an inconvenience,” Feral stated, “I have placed my hand upon thy sword, as thou doth prepared my final manuscript.”

He held up a pad of paper, which was drenched in blood. With his own blood, he had composed a warning to the mayor of Alvira City. “What is this, my Lord?” Asher asked with worry.

“Thou shall see soon enough what thy plot is,” Feral told him. “For soon thy whole country shall be stained with my blood, as well as thy own.”

“My Lord, you can't possibly be serious,” Asher looked at his master, who stood up before him. Blood dripped from his wrists.

“I am most certain, Asher. Doth my face looketh the face of a joker?” Feral asked, frowning. Asher shook his head.

“I suppose not, my Lord,” he said, bowing his head. “What are my orders?”

“Thou art to return thy pen to my study,” Feral ordered, “I shaln't be needing it, and thou doth not desire for thy study to become disorganized.” Asher nodded and began to leave the room. “Oh, and Asher?” Feral called after him. The butler stopped. “Do carry out thy duties and see to it that thy maids accomplish thy work as well.” Asher nodded, bowing once more as he walked up the stairs to the exit of Feral's room.

What a mess, Feral thought, looking at the blood around him, My discontent with thy work is unforgivable. Such sloppiness.