"It is certainly not my intention to disturb your rest, but you need to wake up, Mr. Amirage. Quickly now!" a raspy elderly voice resounded.
Louis's eyelids slowly slid open. His vision blurred. He rubbed his knees and raised himself off the caravan chair, his eyes locking onto the outstretched palm of Mr. Lotus, a servant of the man he was meant to meet."
He grabbed hold of Mr. Lotus's palm as the man pulled him forward, out of the caravan. The rays of Eos stretched down on him, and he felt the heat against his smooth pale skin as he looked around.
In front of him was a massive home, stretching wide and high, with stationed guards and a large statue of an esteemed nobleman, Mr. St. Hill. Around the statue was a pool of water, and encircling the massive home was a field of flora—flowers, small living beings that did not exist in the Desert Plains.
They were beautiful blossoms: violet purple, some as bright as the radiant morning sun, and others as red as a drop of red wine. Beyond them was a field of lawn.
Mr. Lotus faced Louis, wiping his face with a handkerchief. He fixed his collar, then turned to face the large home. 'Well, I shall accompany you—be a tour of sorts
Louis nodded and looked around in awe at the home. He thought with a grin, I knew the client was wealthy—It seems as though the Syndicate hit the jackpot with this one.
"Well, are you following, Mr. Amirage?" Mr. Lotus asked.
Louis, now in a distinguished pose with his left arm behind his back and the other raised to his side, took elegant and bold steps. "Just a bit fascinated by the esteemed St. Hill Manor, is all," he replied.
He then ran up to Mr. Lotus, following closely behind as they moved to the side of the towering bronze statue. Louis glanced up and continued forward, his hand brushing against the blossoms. As he moved through the field of flowers, he noticed something peculiar: strange structures, large metal rods, steaming and plunged into the ground, radiating with bright luminance. Spirit Stones—they're using its energy, Louis thought.
Mr. Lotus looked back. "Stay focused, would you, Mr. Amirage?" he said, his voice vexed.
"Right," Louis responded, dashing forward.
They slowly ascended a few stairs toward a large, luxuriously gold-patterned door, beside which stood two men.
The man on the right had a bulky build, a grown-out buzz cut, and furrowed, unwavering eyes that matched his immovable stance. He wore a thick silver breastplate and held a unique weapon in both hands.
The weapon was thin, like a metal rod, with leather covering. It stretched forward, and around the middle area, something was stored. At the very end of the weapon was a small gap, suggesting some projectile function. The man's fingers rested on a near-plastic button, a trigger.
Louis looked down at the man's peculiar weapon with a puzzled expression and turned to Mr. Lotus. "Now, what could that be—a long metal rod?"
Mr. Lotus, avoiding Louis's gaze, muttered, "It's a phantom rifle, Mr. Amirage." The other guard, a small-framed figure holding a normal sword, unlocked and pulled open the door. Mr. Lotus glanced back at Louis. "Now, now, your job isn't to inspect everything you see. We hold many secrets here. I simply ask that you not keep the man of the hour waiting."
Tch—giving me the short end of the straw?Louis thought. His smile felt tight, his teeth just barely gritted together as he forced himself to retain his composure.
Louis entered the front door behind Mr. Lotus, and his expectations were blown away. His eyes widened in shock.
The interior was even more impressive than the exterior, with luxurious wooden tiles stretching far. An opulent crystal chandelier radiated bright light, and a comfy, elegant fur rug stretched across the room. A large dining table stood in front, with stairs elevating upwards. On those stairs stood a few maids, all bowing down, greeting the pair.
As they entered, the feminine voices of the maids muttered in synchronization, "Greetings, Mr. Amirage. Mr. St. Hill is on his way to greet you. Please, take a seat—you are welcome to feast as you see fit."
"My, my, thank you, lovelies," Louis winked.
He then made his way toward the table, pulling out a chair to the right. He took a seat. The long-stretching table housed a multitude of plates, each holding a different meal. On one plate sat a large roasted swine head surrounded by a few tiny red fruits and leafy plants. On another plate was a large roasted chicken breast, beside which lay an extravagant bowl of soup. There was also a bowl of strange dark fruit and, finally, a plate with a dessert-originated delicacy—Desert-Crawler meat with Desert-Leaper legs.
Louis chuckled. They went all out with this welcoming, didn't they? Clasping his hands, he grinned. "Well, it's my pleasure, and my stomach's as well."
He first took the plate of extravagant soup and brought it to his lips. Immediately, the succulent sweetness trickled down, sapping his taste buds with ecstasy. Wiping his mouth, he thought, It reminds me of Mother's cooking—I've missed her.
He greedily gulped down the soup in one go, almost addicted to the taste. It brought him back to his childhood, sitting at the dining table feasting on his mother's cooking after a long day.
He smiled, licking his fingers, and turned to Mr. Lotus, who stood beside him without eating. "It's so… so good."
Mr. Lotus smirked. "As it should be. I'm glad it's to your taste—it's what Mr. St. Hill wanted. He wished for you to enjoy your meal."
Louis looked up, confused. "You mean, all of this… everything was prepared specifically for me?"
Mr. Lotus nodded. "It was." Checking his watch, he added, "Well, do it quickly. If he could, Mr. St. Hill would have been here already." He stroked his brow with a saddened expression. "It seems his health is deteriorating even further."
Louis stood up, having only finished the soup. He wiped his hands on his trench coat and put his gloves back on, smiling. "Well, I can't have the elderly die while I'm out here being a glutton, can I?"
"So you're not going to finish your meal?" Lotus asked. "He would want you to."
Looking back at the table, drooling, Louis turned away, scratching the back of his head. "Sure… I'll do so after."
"Well, your wish—it is up to you, truly."
Taking a short bow, Louis quipped, "Well then, lead the way, Mr. Moustache."
"To my utmost pleasure." Mr. Lotus bowed back.
He then made his way toward the stairway, with Louis following behind. Mr. Lotus took slow, elegant steps, and Louis, feeling bothered by his pace, thought, Could he be any slower?
After making their way up the stairway, they found themselves in a large hallway, facilitating even more rooms, with a few maids standing aside in the corner, all bowing.
Mr. Lotus tapped Louis's shoulder. "This way."
"Right."
They moved toward another stairway, much higher and longer than the last. As they ascended, they finally reached their destination.
Ahead lay another hallway leading to a door. Mr. Lotus pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. "Well, here we are."
Louis walked past Mr. Lotus into a massive room with darker wooden-tiled flooring. The room featured a large piano, a small chair, and a balcony with a few chairs outside. The rays of Eos reflected through several windows, illuminating the room.
On the walls hung a collection of creature heads—some were animals, while others were monstrous beasts. To the far end was a large table, atop which rested a game board. To the side was a cabinet housing the most refined and luxurious wines.
"So, you're here." A sickly, raspy voice—belonging to someone on the verge of death—was heard from behind.
Louis turned around and finally met his client. I've finally met my contractor, he thought. St. Hill.