There was something strange about the doctor when he stood facing the butler. The icy look in his ice, the indifference that painted his countenance, even the tone of his voice when he said: “I came here to fulfill my duty as one of the residents in his lordship village.” This time, Rokah seemed as if he was another person.
The untamed part of him slowly began to reveal itself.
He added, governing the bit of clarity that left in him, faking a cool face as if he was the master of his fate: “It is a very important matter that demands private talk with his lordship.”
He waited for a response. He so badly needed a response. Because if he didn’t get what he wanted, the switch in his brain will click off and all his hard work to obtain the freedom he always dreamed of will fly with wind escorted by his life.
Breath after breath, Rokah couldn’t even tell if the butler was looking at him or not. Rokah observation of him was just limited to the motion of his four limbs when he adjusted his posture to a better comfortable and dominant position, showing his eagerness to take control of this conversation since he didn’t appreciate Rokah tone: “Do you think that you have the right to meet his lordship after you have refused to be in his service? Do you think yourself better than anyone in this village? “
An overall tingle invaded Rokah’s whole skin. He realized this person didn’t underestimate him this time. A consequence of his rush, unrestrained mannerisms… and his never-ending lust to appear keen and tactful. This wasn’t the right approach to request something.
However, Rokah has noticed a subtle change in the butler’s voice. He couldn’t discern the concealed intention behind it. It made him wonder about those unspoken words, though it won’t be long until he found out. He overrode his gut feeling and demanded again, but this time he tried to be sincere: “I wish to meet his Lordship personally, it is a very important matter.”
It was worthless to repeat the same thing twice, Rokah thought. After all, this man wasn’t as easy as the other villagers. Besides, Rokah has said it without calculating the pros and cons, especially when he couldn’t see or read his facial expressions. But it’s not like he had a better plan.
And to Rokah’s good or bad luck, the butler took a deep breath, then he stood up crossing his arms behind his back before he asked: “Why do you want to meet the count personally?”
“It is an important matter that needed to be conveyed to him personally,” Rokah responded quickly and confidently, maybe he couldn’t read this man’s expression, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t other methods to anticipate his reactions and predict his thoughts.
“I am the one who decides what’s important and what’s not, and what needs to be conveyed to his lordship and what he didn’t.”
The anger was prominent in his statement, and Rokah hesitated to talk. For a brief moment, he wondered if he should tell him or not. Since he won’t gain anything by making this man angry, while his plan won’t change whether this man learned about this little detail or not, the outcome will be the same.
“I found out the real identity of the killer.” Rokah stopped to fathom any observable reaction, and when he didn’t detect anything he added, attempting to make his story believable: “It was my good luck that I have survived his attack.”
Rokah was startled as soon as he saw the butler stepping away from his desk and circling around him, a chill running through his body. For an instant, he thought that this man saw over his half fabricated story. Thank goodness he took the tame and damaged his own body with bruises and wounds in anticipation.
That was the overall purpose. When Rokah came to the manor, he made sure that he looked in a sorry state, eyes were swollen, cuts all over his body, and of course, a torn cloth. Only for the sake of his story to be convincing and relatable, but he was really confused by the butler’s statement: “Why in the hell do you know the identity of the killer?”
Rokah narrowed his eyes, his heart was lost in confusion: “Is this man blind?” then he eluded, trying to stay calm as much as he could: “Because he attacked me, that’s why I want to meet his lordship.” Rokah knew that there was no turning back. Either he sticks to his story or everything will crumble on his head.
The Magus returned to his place, he took the contract papers between his hands and asked a question that was distant from the topic of this conversation: “Why didn’t you want to sign the contract in the first place? It will save you the time and give you the chance to meet the count.”
“You don’t want to know the real identity of the killer?” Rokah Blurted out as he was suspicious of this detour of the subject, not certain where he was getting to. And also afraid that he had already seen through his scheming.
The butler didn’t answer him directly. He took his time while organizing all the different papers on his desk. When he finished, he stared at Rokah’s swollen face directly and said with an absolutely angry tone: “I am the only one who asks the questions here.” after a short pause he followed “Why didn’t you sign the contract?”
Rokah thought that there must be something wrong. He couldn’t discern something he didn’t put into his account while he was weaving this plan. What it could be? He responded terrified while trying to avoid the hairy face by looking away: “I was going to sign the contract if it weren’t for the conditions 17, 18 an,d…?”
“Eh…? Who told you about this contract?”
His voice got higher with each word coming from his mouth. Rokah ground his teeth, pressed his lips together, not knowing what he was supposed to answer him. But he hadn’t enough audacity to not say anything, so he murmured: “No one, I figured it myself.”
The butler yelled with certainty: “Really, you better stop lying… Was it because you know that I am a grapheme lore dealer… right! And this contract isn’t an ordinary contract. How did you find out? Who tells you?’
Rokah’s mind became blank, like a surface covered by a recently falling snow, soft and cold, and it all showed on his face. Solely, the word grapheme lore dealer dancing like a leaf in the windy night. He was searching the pictures of his scattered memory at a time… a place on where or when he heard this set of words and what it actually meant. Then a special instant pocked his mind. It was the instant he encountered Lady Savannah. Did this man know about Lady Savannah? Was it why he was using this tricky word to fool him into a confession?
The truth was, he didn’t sign that counteract because he knew he was a Magus or whatever kind of art he wielded. He just didn’t sign it because of the different conditions that it holds, for any person who had a chunk of intelligence, and he learned well how to read Latin, he surely won’t sign that contract, which was written specifically for enslavement.
But Rokah won’t deny such warning considering Lady Savannah was the one who told him that there was a Magus inhabiting this farm -as she liked to call it-, and he must never sign anything he presented to him.
As for how he figured this person was the Magus she was talking about. It was a piece of information he will keep to myself for the time being.
The butler repeated himself, not shying to exhibit his rage: “How did you figure out that I am a dealer of grapheme lore?” His hair was standing like a cat furred by some trick as he yelled after he completely lost his calmness and all the time, Rokah was silent, faking indifference. Then he finally declared: “I have no idea what you are implying?”
The man took a meaningful and long gaze to Rokah before he said: “It is Hendrickson?… You are working for him.”
Rokah’s lips parted, and he raised his eyebrows at what seemed to be a false deduction. He even forgot that he was afraid that his identity was exposed, especially when an intense jasmine scent tickled his nose. He turned behind to face the door, expecting to see a familiar face.
