[3] Lord Father

[3] Lord Father

Daylight entered through the window, waking Bjorn. He found himself still in the body of some unknown monster. He had discovered little about himself or his species over the course of the night. Freja and her friends spent most of the time watching him and ensuring he ate and drank.

Failsafe had underestimated how long it would take him to translate the language. However, he claimed that throughout the night he would make a new magic framework that would allow Bjorn to understand it in real time. Unfortunately, Bjorn won’t be able to read until he learned the old fashion way. Speaking the language was impossible given the vocal cords he possessed.

He stood up and proceeded to stretch when he noticed Freja standing over him. She was wearing the same thing as yesterday; a black sweater vest over a white dress shirt, black and white striped tie, and a skirt. She picked him up, and he noticed the barrier that kept him from leaving the platform dissipated. He could taste the magic in the air, and given enough time he was confident he could identify what exactly was being used to make the barrier. He expected Freja to let him back down, but instead she moved to the door.

As it turns out, he was in a dormitory of some kind. They were in a long hallway, which had intermittent doors on each side. The spicy smell of cinnamon incense assaulted his greatly enhanced senses. The dorm had an oddly sterile look; no pictures or plants, no colors beside the natural hues of the wooden floors and brick walls. Freja seemed to be nervous as she carried him hurriedly down the stairs and into the main hall.

An older woman was there waiting for them, and she looked at Bjorn in surprise. The woman was a halfling, a full head shorter than Freja, with a motherly demeanor. She and Freja talked for a few minutes; she pointed at Bjorn a few times, especially at his back. Bjorn wished he knew what they were saying, but could only shrug off the talks.

“Hey, Failsafe, you got that translation thing done yet?” Bjorn asked mentally.

“Almost. I just need a bit longer. I’m trying to optimize it as much as possible given your low magic ability,” Failsafe responded promptly.

Bjorn sighed. “Well, can you tell me what they’re talking about?”

“Sure thing,” Failsafe said. “The halfling woman’s name is Dimii. She’s trying to figure out what you are. She thought you might be a dragon, but no wings, so that was out. She is also upset Freja took you out of the containment field. I am assuming that’s the platform in Freja’s room. Apparently you’re supposed to stay in it for a few days to ensure you don’t reject the bond and attack her.”

It suddenly made a lot more sense why Julie and Mat didn’t want to come into the room while he was free. A bonded familiar could reject the bond, and then be no different from any other wild animal. The fact no one seemed to know what he was meant Freja was taking a big risk to her life, carrying him around like she was. While he had no intention of harming her, if he was a wild animal one bite and his venom could kill her.

“That’s right,” Failsafe said proudly. “Not only that, but it uses ambient magic, meaning you won’t even have to worry about it draining you.”

Bjorn immediately tried to talk out loud but all that came out were the usual squawks.

“You hungry, baby?” Freja asked as she stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

“I thought you figured this out?” Bjorn thought frustratedly. “Why am I still squeaking?”

“It is one way,” Failsafe stated matter of factly. “The translation is happening in your head. You can’t speak, that would be sound magic or something.”

As Freja reached for the door it suddenly swung open. The taste of anger, disappointment and disgust carried in the air caused Bjorn to immediately turn to see what was going on. He could also taste Freja’s terror, which put him on edge. On the other side of the door was a man who towered over Freja, his antlers adorned with rings and jewels. His skin was as dark as a starless midnight, only broken up by the red suit and long shoulder cape which had the crest of a dragon.

Authority and mana flowed from the man like a typhoon, although controlled and pressing down only on Freja. This was a tactic used to show dominance. It was not a physical nor a magical attack, just manipulation of the mana in the air. If one could not defend against it, then it would make the person feel vulnerable and under pressure as if they were standing before a superior. It was considered rude and even an insult, but the man at the door did not seem to care.

“Fath...” Freja started, but quickly bowed her head. “I mean Lord Salstar. It is an honor that you have come to see me.”

The man’s voice was deep and impassive. “Where is it, girl?”

Freja notably paled, her voice barely above a whisper. “Right this way, Lord.”