Chapter Text
It held all the hallmarks of a fairytale dream, but to Qifrey, a man who had abandoned all fantasies against the cruel waves that drowned the world, it was the make of ruin.
The blinding chandeliers stung Qifrey's eyes as he watched, astound. Duke Olruggio of Ghodfrey's dark figure carved through the crowd until he stood a single pace away.
The Duke held his gaze in a way that made it impossible to deny the implausible: Olruggio of Ghodfrey intended for him.
"Lord Qifrey," the Duke said, and dropped to his knee with a confidence that spoke of no doubts. "Will you permit me the honour of your hand in marriage?"
5 DAYS EARLIER
The dawn of Qifrey's misery began, as it so often did, with a letter.
The seal shimmered the palest blue like a beacon to his lone eye, familiar and unsettling all at once. It ensnared Qifrey's attention with an intensity he sensed was not fully lost on his young ward as he plucked the envelope from her outstretched hand.
"Thank you, Coco," Qifrey said, smiling warmly. Despite his nerves, the reflex came easily. He had become accustomed to donning thousands of smiles just like it when his mind and heart were furthest from peace. It had never concerned him how much he subordinated himself to the role he played, for he did not know of any other way to live.
"Who is it from, professor?" she asked eagerly, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I've never seen such elegant lettering!"
"Mm, it is quite special, isn't it?" Qifrey mused, turning the smooth paper to allow her to admire the twisting silver adorning its edges. He would have reacted with the same wonder as her, once. "Its author is a very special man."
Coco was his newest disciple, and by far the most amazed by even the most minute aspects of academia. He adored her in a way he would not have thought himself capable, just as he had come to dote silently upon all of the children in his care.
That unparalleled instinct to shield them from harm was precisely why he rose from his windowsill to retreat to the privacy of his room.
If Lord Beldaruit was summoning him, it was an exceptional occasion, indeed.
***
'The Brimmhars are no more.'
'Olruggio of Ghodrey has returned!'
The roads sang the news all the way to the capital. There was not a rest nor pause where some eager traveller did not share it with zeal. His disbelief slowly sunk beneath his skin as he realised it was true.
Overnight, the Brimmhars were gone.
To the world, it was jubilation: to Qifrey, it meant nothing.
"Qifrey, my dear boy!"
Lord Beldaruit greeted him with the warmth of a father, his arms opened as wide as they would be if he hoped to hug the sky itself. Qifrey leaned down obligingly to where his mentor was settled in his wheelchair. It was far from proper etiquette, but Lord Beldaruit had long made games of eschewing such norms.
Regardless, he stepped away to punctuate the motion with a textbook bow.
"Lord Beldaruit," he returned formally.
"Come," said his master, shooing away his entourage of attendants like pigeons. "The roses are divine at this time of year."
They were nestled between the thick walls of hedgerow before either of them spoke again.
"I imagined you happier at the news," Beldaruit ventured. "Perhaps it was sinful of me, to hang my hat on selfish wishes."
Qifrey was as still as a statue. He drew a long breath before he spoke.
"The Brimmhars?" he said softly. "Perhaps I should be..."
"Nonsense," said Beldaruit, affronted.
"...It is not as though I remember much, after all."
He had lived amongst the broken ruins of his future for as long as he had known. The Brimmhars had stolen the unknowable from him when he was only a child, and its absence was heavier than any weight he could fathom.
Yet the destruction of the revolutionaries who had plagued the Kingdom of Zozah for decades was meagre solace. Qifrey searched his heart and found no trace of relief: not even the ghost of something bittersweet touched his tongue. He still awoke empty, and felt that anything he touched turned hollow.
It was a worthless prize for all these years of waiting.
"I suppose so," Beldaruit mulled. "Business, then? My favourite former student must be dying to know what I would drag him to the capital for, especially when he so scarcely visits."
"Yes," Qifrey deadpanned, feeling the tightness in his stomach ease. "You will have to ask Sir Na—"
"So, my dear Qifrey!" Beldaruit interrupted, without missing a beat. "The King is hosting a celebratory ball for our returning champion of the day. Those under the umbrella of the Great Hall are mandated to attend. Contrary to your protests, you are still my scion. There's simply no avoiding your appearance, I fear."
He had expected as much. It had been years since his appearance in high society, but a ball was far superior to a banquet or hours-long ceremony one was forced to sit through. Qifrey could capably continue his self-imposed hermitry within the four corners of a ballroom.
"It shall be held in the honour of Marquess Olruggio of Ghodrey," Beldaruit hummed. "Of course, you remember him."
Qifrey squinted. "Hm?"
Beldaruit turned to him. For a moment, he was silent.
"Were you not students in the same class?"
Qifrey wracked his mind to no avail. The name was familiar, of course, but most were when the shadow of the Great Hall cloaked such a small world. Beldaruit had always overestimated his capacity to remember faces and directions.
"Well, perhaps you ought to pretend," Beldaruit sighed, rubbing his temple at Qifrey's obvious indifference. "Routing the Brimmhars after all this time was no simple feat. The nation is overflowing with praise. Olruggio of Ghodrey is a war hero, now."
A war hero. The idea felt strange as it lingered. Why should it concern him? A war hero had no business with a simple man like Qifrey.
"I will be there," he promised, if only because he had no other choice. For all his eccentricities, Beldaruit had always been better to him than he deserved. Performing a rare duty was the least of what he could do in return. "But I ask you forgive me; I must return home the moment it ends."
Qifrey turned his gaze to the garden, and a sincere happiness tugged at his lips. For not the first time since his departure, he prayed his wards were not wreaking havoc at home. His mind always strayed further towards them the longer he was away.
"I am a professor now, you know."