Chapter 94 - The Return Of The Tree Ghost

You can read the novel fast updates at novelhall.com

He sensed something, something new brewing in the hunter's heart, and so he remained quiet and nodded. He walked towards the bonfire, and sat down. Sangfroid did the same.

"A ghost by a tree." Vladstin rubbed his chin. "I think I already know this story, but go on."

"No, you don't. This was about his return." Sangfroid said. 

Vladstin raised an eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut respectfully.

Of course, he knows about the 'tree ghost'. It wasn't the one that Sangfroid heard about from the stories of his fellow orphans, the one who died because no one paid attention to him and was exorcised by the priest. No, this was a different ghost.

He was referring to this person who was talking to him right now, this person who has put up so many walls yet finally broken down a few for him.

If not for the prince sleeping peacefully in a small, patched-up tent that has seen better days, that 'ghost' would have been literal.

"You know the ghost almost fell from the oak tree." Sangfroid begun. "But he befriended a boy, and he started feeling a little more visible. They skipped together all day and played games and chase after butterflies in marigold fields...."

Vladstin envisioned all of it as Sangfroid spoke. Yes, he knew these things. But he knew more than that.

He knew precisely the feeling of emptiness Little Sangfroid felt, this little ghost. And he felt just how much the angelic boy, the dashing prince's light filled him with warmth and made him whole again.

Vladstin closed his eyes. It was so vivid, like he was observing them himself right this moment. They were there, rolling on the grass as spring has arrived, and he was watching them by the oak tree, like he was the ghost instead.

"Big Bwother, your clothes might get diwty." Little Sangfroid spoke with his lisp.

Vladstin had always found that lisp endearing. That is only when he truly felt that this 6-foot man with finely chiseled features and the musculature of a bear is actually younger than him.

"Don't worry, I'll make an excuse somehow." Leron pinched his cheek. "Hey, look at the clouds! That one looks like the Bishop's hat!"

Even he doesn't seem to be able to resist Little Sangfroid's natural charm, an aura of something you must protect. When he's with Sangfroid, the tiny prince of Ilvedia becomes more playful, shoulders less tensed, and his tone relaxed and informal.

In the past, at least.

But it is the present now, and they have been apart. Not to mention Leron had removed his own empathy and conscience.

Vladstin then opened his eyes at this thought, and turned to the direction of the traitor for a while. He said that the part of him he removed was slowly returning, and he didn't believe it. But.....

Based on the emotions he can sense.... This may be becoming true.

Still, what's the point even if he does have a conscience? They're just the same....

Being aware of your sins or apologetic for it doesn't redeem you from it.

Vladstin can apologize to the Ilvedians all he wants, but that doesn't change that he's a monster. Leron can apologize to him all he wants, but that doesn't erase the ghosts of the past that haunt his head.

Sangfroid continued with his tale. "One day, the ghost's friend left, and he didn't return. The next day, the ghost waited. Then the day after that, he also waited. He waited and waited from morning to sunset, plucking out marigold petals as he waited."

Vladstin could picture it, young Sangfroid looking sullen as he sat on the grass cross-legged, his lazy one eye flitting on the white butterflies that pass by.

"Big Bwother will come back..... Big Bwother will not come back...." He repeated again and again for every petal he pluck. "Big Bwother will come back.... Big Bwother will—No. Another one."

He threw the empty stems away, increasingly becoming more upset yet not being able to show it in his stoic face. To others, he would just look like a bored child. No one would understand the increasing amount of pain he was feeling inside his chest.

Suddenly, footsteps approach him.

"Sangfroid, what are you doing with the marigolds? You know we would need them."

The little 'ghost' turned around. "Father.... I'm sowwy. I was waiting for Pwince Leh...Lew....Leron."

He became frustrated since he can't even pronounce his dearest friend's name properly without stuttering or spitting.

The Bishop picked him up in his arms, observing the pile of marigold stems he littered in the ground. "Oh, Sangfroid. I'm afraid Prince Leron would not come back after a long while. You don't have to wait for him every single day."

The little boy looked down. The Bishop knew he was crying in his own way, even when tears couldn't fall from his one purple and one ruined eye.

"That's not twue....." Sangfroid said. "That's not twue....."

The Bishop patted his head. "Go play with the others, it's one of your sister's birthday today. You know Madeleen, don't you?"

"I want Pwince Lewon.... When will he come back?" Sangfroid asked, heavily distraught.

"I.... I don't know, Sangfroid. But you know, sometimes...." He looked far away, like he was thinking of something.

His gaze happened to be in the direction of the Ilvedian Palace, far across the distance with its high ivory towers being swirling clouds, looking like the kingdom of heaven itself.

"Sometimes, friends come and go." He finally said, avoiding his gaze at the Palace and turning to his child instead. "Our happy days with them must not be forgotten.... But we must also remember the present. Time waits for no one, Sangfroid. If we stand still waiting, we will be left behind by it."

"Before you know, you'll grow older, but you wouldn't grow up. You'll be the same boy stuck in his own past, while everyone else is already walking towards the future." The Bishop smiled at him sadly. "That's why we must make friends with Time first among all else. And our Lord, of course."

Sangfroid remained looking down, still disheartened. But his Father's words still resonated with him. So eventually, he nodded.

"You understand now." The Bishop turned around, carrying him back to the Chapel."Let's go to Madeleen's celebration, birth is such a joyous thing that must not be taken for granted—"

"I undewstand, but I don't want to go, Father." Little Sangfroid buried his head on the crevice of his shoulder."I want to sleep."

He want to sleep and dream of Prince Leron, to dream that he was still here, to dream that he hadn't left him behind.

Because if he accepts the fact that he was abandoned.....

Those dark thoughts from when they first met would come back again.

"But even when he tried to believe he will be alright, and that he could hold on until his friend returned.... He was slipping." Sangfroid finished the tale with a sigh. "He climbed that tree many times. Had fallen once or twice, returning back to a ghost no one noticed. That is, until he was given a purpose, a prophecy that puts his friend in danger."

"Even if he was saddened by his disappearance, the ghost still holds this friend in his heart. So instead of bearing a grudge, he was just a ghost that cannot leave Earth because of this friend. He is tethered with him, if the friend dies, so will he." He gave Vladstin a certain ineffable look.

But the vampire still understood.

This is Sangfroid's cautionary tale to him. The warning that the ghost may return if harm would come to Leron's way, and there's so many trees around to choose from. If not trees, there's always mountains and cliffs.

But why would he warn him of it..... If not that he was already aware of how much Vladstin truly cares about it?

"I see. That story makes me sad, I want to cry for hours and yell for hours." Vladstin said with the same smile as always. "I wish the ghost had another tether though. This friend is unreliable, I heard another ghost was once tethered to him but was forcibly cut off and was sent to hell." 

"There cannot be anything else." Sangfroid stared at the tent. "Only him. Though I feel sorry for this other ghost....."

"Hah, fellow ghost appreciates your sympathy, but you don't have to." Vladstin moved quicker than the human eye can discern, and soon, he had set up a sleeping mat by the fire. "He would appreciate more if you get some rest, or you'll look like a scary hanakulou in the morning."

Sangfroid frowned. "What is a hanakulou?"

"It's a Crescentian term for our own ghost that has big black linings around the eyes, because they weren't able to sleep from not being able to reincarnate." Vladstin explained. "But anyway, that's not the point. You're human, and humans need rest."

"Oh.... I see. But..... I really don't need rest." Sangfroid insisted.

"You still got more stories to tell?"

Sangfroid was baffled a bit, then shook his head. "No... That's enough stories for today."

"I thought so. I'll look forward to your ghost stories when you're ready, then." Vladstin pushed the blanket to him. "Now, sleep!"

"No, I really don't---"

"Smell this a bit."

"What?"

Vladstin suddenly shoved a lavender on his nose, which he seems to have gotten from that hill where he has written the Ballad of Min Libitino. "Doesn't it smell nice? So much that you just want to lay down and close your eyes a bit..... until your palpitations decrease and you start to dream..."

He used his hypnotic, mellow voice, something Sangfroid just now realized he underestimated. He was used to being burning with hatred from the words being said, and never noticed the voice itself, like a man who only noticed the wishes but not the demeanor of the sea.

Did he always have this.... or was it part of being a Vampire Lord...? Yawn....

Those were his last thoughts before the mellow voice and the scent of lavenders lulled him into the world beyond the awake one.

Best novel online free at novelhall.com