"Are you in a relationship, Sir Gressil?" Zerath asked with an arched brow. They were now in a carriage, making their way to Nethermoor.
The question earned him a stunned stare from Gressil, who couldn't figure out why the conversation had suddenly taken this romantic turn.
"My lord…are you interested in my love life?"
"Well…"
Zerath eyed Andras, who was seated beside Gressil, returning the look with an equally puzzling gaze. He had decided to join Zerath for this trip to visit his birth town and meet his parents, Belphegor and Zephyra.
"Ever since I noticed Chef Andras's feelings towards Azarael, I find it very interesting to observe everyone at the palace a little more closely."
Andras choked.
"What? Andras likes Azarael? When did this happen?" Gressil asked in disbelief.
"No! My lord, w-where is this even coming from?"
Andras had gone stone-cold - which puzzled Eurus deeply, since he was quite certain he hadn't used his ice magic on him at all.
"You don't like Azarael?" Zerath tilted his head.
Stumped, he couldn't immediately agree.
Gressil's jaw dropped. "You didn't deny it, which means it's true…Ah, I feel old."
"Th-that's not…"
"Just look at your face turning all red," he laughed. "Hahaha, you really like Azarael!"
"Princess Clairette was right on the mark then," Zerath smiled.
Andras's gaze darkened. "I knew it! It's that human's fault! How dare she spread rumors about me?"
"If they were rumors, everyone in the palace would've known by now, especially Azarael."
Andras stiffened, swallowing a hard gulp down his throat.
Gressil patted his shoulders hard. "Hahaha, you shouldn't be shy, Andras! Go and profess your love for her."
"...It's still too soon. She cannot know."
Zerath pressed his lips together. "But your parents surely do."
Andras cast him a dumbfounded look. "I haven't spoken to them in quite a while, and I didn't say anything about Azarael the last time we did."
"But Princess did, during our last trip to Nethermoor."
"..."
Burning flames of indignation now enveloped Andras - puzzling Eurus deeply yet again, since he still couldn't spot Astaroth anywhere.
"So be prepared for their interrogation," Zerath chirped merrily.
"Princess Clairette told them about Azarael!?" He clutched his chest, on the verge of a heart attack.
"Not her identity. She simply mentioned a demoness you might be interested in."
Andras wished he could faint and never wake up from this nightmare, which only made Gressil chuckle in amusement.
Zerath's eyes squinted. "I still want an answer from you, Sir Gressil."
"I don't have any such answer to give, my lord," he blinked twice.
"I believe Lady Asmodea would be very disappointed by your complacency."
"Why?"
He sighed. "It seems that you're not able to catch her hints, alas. You shouldn't waste too much time, or else you'll be left with regret if another man sweeps her off her feet."
Gressil raised his brow. "It seems that…my lord is speaking from experience. Is my lord interested in a demoness?"
The carriage came to a stop, and the coachman announced. "We have reached Nethermoor, my lord."
Zerath's gaze twinkled as it met his gaze. "Maybe. Or maybe not. But what I do know is that I wouldn't want her to be anybody else's."
—
As Andras's gaze swept across the town, his disbelief became blaringly evident. The same Nethermoor that had plunged into eternal winter for over twenty years was now bathed in sunlight beneath a clear sky. The market streets bustled with business, sunshine and laughter echoing off the walls in every direction. He looked up at the hill where Zerath and Vivia had first met Eurus, and seeing the lush green canopies where a snow-capped hilltop once stood dropped his jaw entirely.
"The eternal winter…is really gone."
"Indeed," Gressil held his breath. "This is the real Nethermoor we all knew."
"Andras!"
They turned to find a delighted Zephyra hopping to their side.
"Mother," Andras smiled. "I see you're in good health."
"NOW, I'm in good health," she glared and twisted his ear. "You insolent son! You finally got the time to visit us?"
"I didn't want to come when you and Father were being so unnecessarily stubborn!" He scowled.
"Quiet! Do you see now? We got our reward for our stubbornness. At long last, the winter lifted. Why should we have moved when we rightfully belonged here?"
"Did you wish to die buried under the snow!?"
"And do you see us dead!?"
"Ahhh! Let's not get into this again. You'll never understand my side anyway!"
She snorted. "Your side always lacks logic, that's why we don't understand you. But I hear that there may be a demoness who could finally instill the right sense of logic in you," she probed.
His brow twitched. "I don't know who told you that, but it's all false."
Her eyes squinted. "Uh-huh. Well, I'll thoroughly squeeze all the truth out of you later, but for now…"
She found Eurus standing behind Zerath's legs, watching the mother-son exchange with intense concentration.
"It's nice to see you again."
Eurus promptly disappeared behind Zerath, making the latter smile.
"He's happy to meet you too. He hasn't forgotten your warm bath and meal."
"He does look healthier than before, so it seems that Andras has been feeding him well."
He frowned. "Naturally. I don't slack on my responsibilities."
"You sure did by leaving your old parents all alone to fend for themselves through the never-ending biting winter."
He gasped. "How many times did I tell you to move to Casca so I could look after you both! You didn't listen to me!"
"And why should we have moved out!?"
Amidst their heated back-and-forth, Eurus glanced up at Zerath, observing a strange emotion veiling his eyes as he watched Andras and Zephyra. It was only momentary before it vanished, leaving Eurus to wonder if he had hallucinated that somber gaze.
"How have things been going here?"
Zephyra pushed her son away and faced him. "As you can see, the families who left are returning, and things are going back to how they were - except for Sia's family who're still waiting to hear from their daughter."
His gaze turned somber at her mention. Sia was one of the mysterious disappearances over the past year.
Noticing her odd expression, he said, "I sense some unease in your voice."
Zephyra cleared her throat. "Well, that and the fact that Nethermoor's self-proclaimed lord is being very arrogant."
"Lord? Who?"
"The blessed, young lord Astaroth, who else?"
Zerath's eyes widened slightly. "He proclaimed himself Nethermoor's lord?"
She frowned. "Why do you sound so surprised? Didn't His Majesty himself make him the town's lord?"
He closed his eyes and released a small breath. "He's not Nethermoor's lord-"
"Who dares question my authority! Show yourself!" An enraged voice bellowed from behind him.
A pair of boots clicked hard against the stony path and the moment the royal entourage came into his view, Astaroth went wide-eyed. The shock then rapidly culminated into an unfathomable ire.
"Zerath, you…" He clenched his jaw. "How dare you set foot in here!"
Gressil bowed. "Young lord, I hope you're doing well."
Astaroth gave him a blank look, then sneered. "You don't have to pay respects to me, Sir Gressil. Aren't you His Majesty's puppet after all, one who stood by Zerath and helped him snatch my title away?"
"Loyalty to His Majesty and our realm is my honor, young lord."
"Then keep that honor within Casca's walls! How dare you enter Nethermoor?"
His gaze caught Eurus and his expression worsened tenfold. "That child came here too!?"
At first, Eurus shrank behind Zerath - but the memories of him hurting Vivia reopened old wounds. Remembering her grievances, his little fingers clutched Zerath's coat, and he slowly revealed himself.
"Lower that filthy gaze or should I burn you to a crisp?" Astaroth's crimson eyes bore holes at him.
Eurus stood steady, unblinking but cold. A soft, snowy aura shimmered around him, clearly warning his rebellion that he wouldn't hesitate to unleash his magic.
"Ooohhh that red demon is burning like fire again!" A young boy giggled from afar, pointing at him enthusiastically.
His younger sister laughed along with him. "Brother, he looks funny when he burns like that," she then pouted, "But why is he not bald and naked? Doesn't fire burn hair and clothes?"
Their chirpy gossip only fueled Astaroth's fury even further. He stomped towards them, only to be stopped by Zerath's hand against his chest.
"Leave them alone," he coldly warned.
Astaroth tilted his head. "You're the one who banished me to Nethermoor, and now you come here to interfere in my affairs again? Are you growing too insolent for your own good or has the title of the Crown Prince gotten into your head a little too deep?"
Despite his vehement outrage, Zerath's calm never betrayed him, though his golden eyes had indeed hardened with a quiet, unmistakable severity.
"Let's talk privately, cousin. You have some answers to give."