Cyne of Black was a Warlock, the best and only one you could find in Backend. He and Griselda of Grenade were very well acquainted. So, when his long-time friend came stumbling, not down the stairwell covered in frog slime, but out of an abandoned wing of the house looking absolutely ghastly, he wasn't very surprised.
"Afternoon Griselda," he said plainly.
"It's good to see you, old friend," she sighed. "I apologize for…" she motioned to herself, "This."
Cyne nodded. She did indeed look haggard. The hems and sleeves of her sky-blue dress were in tatters. She was covered, hair to heel, in a sheet of grey soot. A similarly messy-looking stranger had wandered out of the abandoned wing. He lingered behind the Witch and her son.
"Are you going to introduce us Griselda?" he asked. He was curious. The man was dressed in a strange outfit. He wore a white shirt with white trousers and black shoes. The color, or lack thereof, was that of a Priest, but the cut reminded him of a foreign dignitary. Cyne wasn't sure what the man's role was.
"He's a summoned Hero. An 'Alchemist,'" Griselda said, her tone mocking. She walked past Cyne and his young assistant, heading up the stairs. "Hensel," she said, "show our guest where the men's bath is."
Her son nodded, his chin disappearing behind the book's bindings.
"Give me a moment to clean up," the Witch said, wobbling up the stairs. "Ten minutes!" she shouted, disappearing around a corner above.
Hensel did the same, silently leading the stranger up the opposite flight of stairs.
There was a moment of pause. Within minutes, Cyne and his assistant had been left alone.
"Man! I was really lookin' forward to talk to that guy!" his assistant Forest, Son of Igor blurted.
"Now, now, Forest," Cyne said, gently reprimanding the boy. "Sometimes all a man can do is wait."
Forest laughed as Cyne led them into the Breakfast Room.
"S'what do you think of him Master?" Forest asked. He was a manner-less boy, slouching over the table with both elbows. It wasn't unexpected, Forest was the son of a peasant farmer.
Cyne knew the boy wasn't acting malicious. In fact, if not for the boy's brash personality and endless curiosity the two would have never met. Forest had been under the Warlock's wing for little over a year, and even so, Cyne still had a decade to remove old habits and replace them with new ones. They would separate when the boy turned 23.
"Elbows off the table."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Well Forest," he started, "what do you think of him?"
"Ah. Ehm," the boy crossed his arms. He did this whenever the answer to a question was something more than an easy 'yes' or 'no.' But Cyne needed him to understand that the mind was an important asset for a Warlock. If a scientist couldn't answer the simpler questions about mortals, one could never hope to gain enough knowledge to summon a daemon, an immortal.
"Well… hm," he frowned intensely. "He's weird. Madame Griselda says he was a s-suh…" he paused, stuck. "That he's not from around here!"
"Indeed," Cyne nodded. "But what else is there to do now, but wait?"
Forest sighed, "Master you only say that kind of mysterious stuff when you have no idea either!"
"Well I don't… I've lived a long time. In my lifetime, I've never seen a summoned Hero in person before," Cyne thought about the stranger again. "He was wholly, unimpressive," the Warlock surmised his thoughts aloud.
"We'll, he's gotta be here for a reason, right?" Forest asked. "We just gotta find out what it is!" the assistant's enthusiasm was showing. He could barely keep himself in his seat.
"Before you go asking ladybugs questions out in the Garden again," Cyne warned, "why not just ask Hensel. He should be back soon…"
Cyne was half-right this time. Griselda returned first. She had, thankfully, changed into something Cyne felt suited her more. A loose dress, that was something similar to an evening gown. Its was a harsh green color, like that of the forest he and his assistant resided in. There was an exact diamond pattern throughout, clean and exact, like Griselda. Her hair was down now, and still a little wet. Its dark red color licked her shoulders, reminding him of literal fire-water. He got up to meet her, taking her offered hand gently, he lead her into her seat at the end of the table.
"You smell of peppermint…" he whispered. "Griselda of Grenade."
"Oh?" she whispered back, "I know it's your favorite thing in the world, Cyne of Black."
This was a little game they played with each other. The remnants of a long dead flame the two once shared. It wasn't quite flirting. Cyne was sure she was just as happy being single again as he was, but he still enjoyed, this. Whatever it was they still had.
"Eww!" Forest hollered from his seat. The assistant's manners had somehow regressed. He sat crisscross in the chair. Both elbows resting on the tablecloth.
"Were you raised in a barn, boy?!" Griselda shouted. "Remove your elbows from my table!"
Forest complied, embarrassed at his habitual mistake. Thankfully, Hensel arrived moments later.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, glancing around. "I heard shouting…"
Forest hopped out of his chair in his own inelegant-but-elegant way. He didn't stop moving until he was directly in front of Hensel.
"Nothing's going on here!" Forest shouted, gripping the smaller boy by the shoulder and shaking him. "But that guy. The sum-hero. What his deal? Where's he from? What's his name? What's—"
"I don't know!" Hensel sputtered, dizzy from all the shaking. He raised up his book, using it as an impromptu shield. "I j-just showed him how to use the bath. T-that's it!"
Forest frowned. The Warlock knew what that face meant. Forest wasn't convinced. He opened his mouth to ask another string of questions.
"That's enough Forest," Cyne stopped him. "You can't force this sort of thing. If he doesn't know, he doesn't know."
"Indeed," Griselda agreed. "I will introduce him to you. All of you. All you can do now, assistant, is wait."
Cyne watched his ward's face contort. The boy's face reminded Cyne of putty. It would bend and stretch in such fascinating ways, until it finally rested on something. This time it was a clear acceptance.
"Fine," Forest sighed, returning to his seat. "All I can do now, is wait."