The tough facade Graham Slade had on slipped immediately he heard that, and the worry and distress he had as a father leaked out evidently on his face.
This all started with him simply wanting the best for his son despite the state of their country, Aethelos. Was it so wrong for a father to want the best for their child? Such that things had spiraled to this extent.
He took a weak stagger back and sat heavily on the edge of the closest table.
Micah, understanding how guilty the man must be feeling had no choice but to speak up.
"You are not at fault, Graham. Naturally, things should never have reached this point, especially for someone so new to soul magic…" he frowned. "I believe there's more at play here, but what it is, I do not know..."
Graham looked up at him as he continued.
"...What I do know though, is that to get to the bottom of it, your son has to join the Ossuary. I may not be capable enough, but there are others who are, and would be able to trace what's wrong."
Micah spoke of something fishy at play, but while it intrigued Graham, it was still a second priority to him. "W—Will Finn ever get back to normal…?" he whispered like he was afraid to hear Micah's response.
Micah paused for a silent few seconds, before replying softly, sighing, "Just like with the battle for control, that will also depend solely on him…"
Graham's gaze snapped up immediately, with hope in his eyes. "You mean—!"
Micah nodded. "—He should regain his senses eventually, based on his talent. So long as he can reach Full Assimilation, he will survive."
"Full assimilation?" Graham asked eagerly. "Hasn't he assimilated the soul masses already?"
Micah reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Do you mind?" He asked Graham out of courtesy, but the man waved a hand quickly, unbothered. Rather he looked eager for Micah to explain further.
Micah lit a stick and took a deep puff for a second before responding again.
"Full Assimilation is different," he started. "With normal soul mages, unlike your son, most can only assimilate one chaotic soul mass at a time. They start with heavy debts, then slowly strive towards full assimilation of the soul mass."
"Full Assimilation is only reached when the soul debts, or in other words, cost to using a soul mass has been watered down to something… negligible." He released another puff into the air. "For example—"
A small chaotic soul mass of a bird-like creature emerged from Micah's shadow under the placid eyes of Graham.
The shadow-like bird perched on Micah's shoulder, watching with glowing green eyes silently.
"A Snow-Cap Harrier." Graham discerned immediately.
"You know your beast species well." Micah nodded. "Yeah. Harriers aren't especially powerful beasts when alive, so this was relatively easy to fully assimilate."
"The less powerful the soul mass, the easier it is for the Ossuarist to reach Full Assimilation?" Graham finished the train of thought.
"Bingo." Micah snapped his fingers, prompting a wave of relief to wash over Graham.
"Which brings me back to the main issue," Micah continued at Graham's expense. "Finn has to join the Ossuary. There is a limit to what he can do all on his own to reach Full Assimilation. As his senses return as his soul debts lessen, he will need people who can guide him better to expedite the process."
Micah didn't need to say more. He simply walked to the nearest couch and sat down comfortably, his cigar playing on the edges of his lips.
Graham was no fool. If all Micah had said still wasn't enough for him to let go for the betterment of his son… then…
Graham stood at the center of the room, pondering a situation which he already knew the answer to.
So what if there would be backlash from other noble houses. He knew he couldn't hide the fact his son had joined the Ossuary from them. At most, within two days, they would all know.
So damn them all. His son came first.
He raised his head and stared straight into Micah's eyes, his decision already made.
.
.
.
A few days after…
A simple-looking carriage rolled across a rocky dirt path, out in the middle of nowhere. It was the only carriage in sight for miles. Only light shrubbery and lone trees here and there dotted the desolate land it rolled across slowly.
Inside the carriage were three people. One playing with an unlit cigar on the edge of his lips as he watched the dreary scenery roll by from his window.
The second, a young woman whose face was scrunched up in utter discomfort at the constant jolts and sharp rattling of the carriage as it moved across the hard, rocky, dirt road. She looked ready to burst into a fit at any moment.
And the last, was a young man with black hair, an unnaturally pale white skin that was just beginning to regain some color, and an average build. He lay in a specially-made contraption fixed onto the floor of the carriage. It was a bed of some sort. Packed with soft quilts and pillows, it looked like it was made for a prince… Within the constraints of a simple carriage, that is.
The rattles and jolts of the carriage didn't seem to affect him in the slightest as he lay there in a deep sleep.
The three people were Micah, Isis, and Finn.
Isis, watching Finn lay in supreme comfort while she and Micah were sore-bottomed from the intense rattling couldn't help but feel a bit salty.
"Micah—"
"No, you cannot replace Finn in there even for a moment." Micah chided, as if reading her thoughts. "Tsk tsk tsk… That fact you even thought of it…" he shook his head in an overly dramatic manner.
"W—What do you mean?!" Isis' face turned red from embarrassment. "That's not what I wanted to say! I'm not that kind of person—!"
"Ptueh!" Micah mock-spat. "At the slightest opportunity too… And she didn't even hold back."
"You do know I'm the one handling our rations, right?" Isis' voice went deathly cold.
And with a smooth transition, Micah's expression morphed into a saintly, amiable one. "Now, now, Isis, let's not get ahead of ourselves—" he broke off, then put on an exaggerated display. "Huh? What were we just talking about…? I guess it wasn't anything important..."
Isis scoffed. "Shameless."
"My goodness! Isis, I've never noticed before… but your eyes look so beautiful when the light hits them just right…" he looked like he could wipe a tear. "You're really going to make some lucky young man out there happy…"
"Uueegh— Alright, that's enough." Isis looked like she could throw up, making Micah burst into laughter.
"Hey. But seriously, where we're going, you could finally find some guy who'd fall head over heels for you, y'know."
Isis sneered with utter distaste. "Fat chance! Especially from those guys who can barely see beyond their high noses!"
"Heh. I wonder what their faces will look like when we arrive…" he glanced at Finn, who was peacefully unconscious, and a slow surge of anticipation built up within him.