Lyura Tepi stood with her hands behind her back, tapping her foot impatiently. Not that Oliver noticed. The kid was too busy giggling as he played with his new toy.
Down on the coliseum floor, the homunculus archer Lyura had helped capture was facing several of Oliver's strongest demons. She was making quick work of them, Lyura had to admit, shooting them down with arrows of orange Levia. None had managed to get within fifteen feet of her.
Soon only one demon was left, a fellow with blotchy blue skin and stubby horns. He snarled, revealing sharp canines, before hurling his boomerang at the homunculus.
Oliver leaned forward, breathing in sharply. But the homunculus raised her bow, cool as could be, and shot the boomerang mid-arc. The demon howled as it went spinning back toward him. Only some judicious last-minute dodging saved him from getting whacked by his own weapon, and even then it sliced off most of his mohawk.
"Awesome!" Oliver cheered, jumping to his feet. He had spent all day lounging in the plush armchair in the top box, watching as his latest acquisition made short work of everything he threw at her. Hours had passed and she'd shown no sign of tiring. Homunculi really were impressive.
Lyura was getting bored hanging around here, though. It wasn't fun just watching; she wanted to fight herself. Kick the homunculus' ass a second time (okay, the first time had been a sneak attack, so maybe it didn't count).
But since Gratiano had gone off to escort some guests, Lyura was expected to stay here and guard Oliver. So boring.
"Maybe it's time to break into the monster collection," Oliver chortled to himself. "Oh, but what if she ends up destroying them? I don't think Mom and Dad would want that...well, maybe if they're weaker monsters, but then, there's no point."
The kid sure loved talking to himself. Maybe he needed some friends. Not that Lyura had any intention to volunteer herself; besides, she doubted he'd agree to be friends with a mere familiar.
Well, that didn't matter to Lyura. As long as Oliver gave her the fights she wanted, she had no problem sticking around.
"Hey, Gratiano – " Oliver turned around, only to lock eyes with Lyura. "Oh, right, he's not here. Okay, fine, fine. Morges...." He flicked his hand, ready to conjure a communication portal between himself and the captain of the guard.
At that moment, dozens of orange diagrams flashed across the floor and a high-pitched wail pierced the air.
Oliver jumped to his feet, and even Lyura stumbled, caught off guard. But she regained her poise soon enough, all her senses flaring to alertness.
She hadn't been here for long, but she already knew exactly what this alarm meant.
Oliver wasn't handling it half as well. He whirled toward Lyura, irritation twisting his sweet, round features. "What's going on? What's that noise?"
Lyura sighed inside, but put on her sweetest smile and said, "It seems like an alarm, young master."
"An alarm? Why?"
So dense. But before she could try to fill in that empty head of his, just a little, another diagram spread across the floor beside the chair. A portal. When it cleared, Captain Morges was there, breathing hard.
"Young master!" he cried. "There's trouble. The arena has been breached!"
"What?" Oliver swelled indignantly. "What have you guards been doing?"
'You know, it's your job to maintain the arena...,' but Lyura wasn't about to say it out loud.
Nor did Morges voice this very true sentiment. "My deepest apologies, young master. It appears a nephilim broke into the second floor. I've immediately dispatched a guard detail to intercept her. If you'd come to the control room?"
"Fine." Still scowling, Oliver trailed after Morges. He didn't even look at Lyura, just made a vague fluttering gesture with his hand.
She followed with a spring in her step. These past few days she'd kept trying to convince Oliver to go hunt for more strong familiars, but that bore Gratiano always shot her down. Now finally, something exciting was happening.
A door at the back of the top box opened into the control room. Unlike the rest of the austere prison, the control room was as lavish as the actual Enson manor, with a richly carpeted floor, a chandelier on the ceiling, and plush couches arranged around a coffee table upon which rested a crystal bowl brimming with foil-wrapped caramels.
Lyura debated if she had time to snatch a few caramels for herself, but Oliver had already plopped down on the couch. She came up behind him and watched as Oliver gestured at one of the huge gold-framed mirrors on the walls.
A diagram rippled across its surface, then an image appeared as if they were watching a TV. It showed a young woman in red armor stumbling down a dark hall. When the guards appeared at the end of the hall, she tensed and lifted her spear.
"She doesn't look like much," Oliver said scornfully. "They'll make short work of her."
"Even so, no Tielan has ever broken into the prison in all its history," Morges insisted. "We need to be careful, young master."
The alarm screeched louder, making Oliver and Morges jump. And maybe Lyura, just a little. Just then, the mirror to the left came to life.
As Oliver beheld the scene in the mirror, his face grew redder and redder. Lyura could practically hear the steam hissing out of his ears. Which was amusing and all, but Lyura couldn't enjoy it for long.
Not when she too couldn't tear her eyes away from the mirror.
An auburn-haired woman was busy stuffing keys into the padlock of a cell door. A cell door that happened to be missing its barrier spell.
When the door swung open, Oliver jumped to his feet and let out a wince-inducing squeal. "No way! That – that's Margaret Wetherill!"
He rounded on poor Morges. "Morges, what is the meaning of this? Where's Gratiano?"
"I – I don't know, young master." Morges held out his hands as if that would shield him from Oliver's wrath. "I'll send a detachment this instant."
"Hurry it up!" Oliver yelled, snapping his fingers. Morges scampered toward the door like a mouse fleeing a hawk.
"What – what – what – " Oliver kept whipping his head back and forth between the two mirrors, his eyes growing wider and wider. "What's going on? Margaret Wetherill, she – she betrayed me!"
His voice rose to a shriek almost the exact pitch as the alarm before cracking unpleasantly. Puberty was doing the boy no favors.
Then another mirror flickered. Oliver spun toward it. "What now?"
As the image resolved, he gasped as if choking on plastic. Lyura had to sympathize.
Three people were running up the stairs. Two appeared to be human, but the third was a knight in gleaming armor, long hair and azure cape streaming behind him.
"A...a homunculus," Oliver breathed.
Slowly, he turned and locked eyes with Lyura for the first time in hours. An unpleasant flush still colored his face, but Lyura could tell it came more from excitement than fury. The gleam in his eyes didn't lie. Like a kid in a toy store.
"Do you want it, young master?" she asked, sugary sweet.
"What are we waiting for?" Oliver whirled toward the door, where Morges was still waiting.
"Young master!" The guard captain looked aghast. "You can't mean to – no, it isn't safe! Stay here. We will handle the intruders."
"Don't tell me what to do, familiar!" Oliver barked.
Morges drew in a deep breath, bushy eyebrows bunching up like two caterpillars trying to mate. "Apologies for my insolence, young master. Nonetheless – what of Gratiano? Surely our first priority is to ensure his wellbeing, after which we must stop Lady Margaret from releasing the prisoners."
"Didn't you hear me the first time? Don't tell me what to do!" Spittle flew from Oliver's mouth as he swiped his arm at Morges. A twinge in her Levia was all the warning Lyura got before a whip of orange light burst out of Oliver's hand and knocked Morges to the floor.
Lyura winced. That had to hurt. Well, Morges had no one but himself to blame for dragging his feet on indulging Oliver's tantrum.
"Forgive me, young master," Morges mumbled, hauling himself upright.
"You and your guards go and deal with it." Oliver gave a dismissive flap of his hand. "Oh! You have my permission to release the dragon. That should put a quick stop to the intruders."
He unleashed a nasty giggle, but Lyura didn't miss the affronted twitch to Morges' eyebrow.
"Are you certain, young master? If you release the dragon, it may end up destroying prisoners as well as the intruders...."
"How much are you going to question me, Morges?" Of all things, Oliver actually stamped his foot. "It's their fault for escaping! Get out the dragon, gather all the guards, and stop these intruders! Those are your orders!"
"As you wish, young master." Morges bowed before stepping out of the door.
Leaving Oliver alone with Lyura. He turned toward her, eyes shining with naked greed again. Maybe she felt the tiniest bit sorry for Gratiano, whose wizard couldn't be assed to spare an ounce of concern for him, but whatever. It was the dumb old dog's fault for letting the intruders get the drop on him.
Meanwhile, Lyura and Oliver had business to tend to.
Grinning, Oliver twisted the Enson ring around his finger. A portal diagram spread beneath his feet, its orange glow flickering off the ring's blue crystal. "Let's go, Lyura. We're getting that homunculus!"
A matching grin spread across Lyura's face. She sauntered onto the portal as well, hands on her hips. Oh, yes. This kid might be a little shit, but he was also the strongest wizard she'd ever had. Under him, she'd been able to fight – and defeat – enemies she had previously never been able to dream of challenging.
And that streak wasn't about to break anytime soon.