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The Eastern wizards always found respite in the distinct calm of days that followed a successful mission.
For Heath, that usually meant a few days where he would hear words of congratulation for a job well done from Cain, Rutile, and Chloe (among other wizards at the manor). If he had any sort of souvenir, he would show them (or perhaps even give them their own). He could return to tinkering with automatons and machinery with his mind clear and heart calm.
For Shino, returning from a mission would mean a short grace period of no written tests from Faust. He could freely spend time sparring with Lennox and Cain, or catching bugs with Mitile (and sometimes Riquet), or asking Nero for food at random times of day without feeling the impending doom of a test day creeping up.
For the two older Eastern wizards, it was mostly coming back to life as usual.
Nero would wake up early to cook breakfast for whoever decided to visit the kitchen. Lennox always arrived first as soon as the sun started rising, and Shylock’s visit in the afternoon was his indicator to start cooking for Faust.
Faust would wake up a little bit past noon, stay in his room reading until he heard Shylock leave his own room, then get up and head to the kitchen to meet Nero shortly after. His justification was that it was more considerate than having Nero bring food up to his room.
It was a comfortable routine they’d settled into.
Faust would bring whichever book he was reading and take a seat at the same table he always did; Nero would arrive a few minutes later with a meal for the both of them—breakfast for Faust, lunch for himself—and say, “Sorry to keep ya waiting, Faust”; Faust would close his book, shake his head, and say, “I wasn’t waiting for long”; Nero would ask about what he was reading, and the start of that conversation was their cue to begin eating.
By that point in the afternoon, anyone who had eaten breakfast early was going to return soon for lunch. Most of the time it would be Lennox or Cain. There were also a couple of times it would be Bradley or Riquet.
This was also a part of their daily routine.
Regardless of who arrived first for lunch, after they left, Nero would suggest they head back to one of their rooms to finish their meal in privacy; Faust would pretend to consider the idea before bringing up the fact that their rooms were on the third and fourth floor, and thus too far a distance for it to be “socially proper” to carry plates of unfinished food; Nero would joke and ask some variation of “Since when did our curseworker care about being socially proper?”; Faust would respond by telling him, “Be quiet and eat your food before it gets cold’.
When they finished eating, Faust would help with cleaning dishes and stay in the dining area writing notes on the contents of his reading (potentially to use for upcoming lessons). He would leave after around four or five people came for lunch (or sooner if one of those people happened to be Figaro).
The rest of the day would be spent idly—sometimes in each others’ company, and sometimes not. The next scheduled part of their routine was to reconvene late into the evening and talk as Nero closed up the kitchen for the night. If anyone visited after hours, there was food left for them on the counter and kept warm with magic. If they wanted something different, they would have to find Nero and ask him.
After some conversation, they would either split for the night to sleep (which happened most of the time), or decide to stay together and share a drink (whether it be on an empty balcony, an empty room somewhere in the manor, or one of their own rooms). On a few occasions, they would visit Shylock’s bar and risk having to talk to more people.
On one particular night, they took that risk and saw Shylock giving his coldest smile to a Murr who was very obviously being himself towards Bradley and the twins.
Faust and Nero turned to leave without a word.
After they were a considerable distance away, they resumed casual conversation as they walked. When they reached the top of the third flight of stairs and Nero turned to walk towards his room, Faust pulled him back by the shoulder, prompting him to pause and turn his head.
“Nero.” Faust had a frown on his face.
“... Yeah?” Immediately starting to backtrack and reconsider every interaction they’d had that day, Nero tried to pinpoint what exactly he might have done wrong as he fully turned to face Faust. “What’s up?”
“It doesn’t always have to be your room, does it?” Faust took a few steps back towards the staircase.
“Y’know Faust, you really gotta watch your words. When you say it like that…”
Faust narrowed his eyes. Nero didn’t finish that sentence.
“I mean, it doesn’t, no.” Nero followed and began the climb up the fourth flight of stairs. “I just assumed since we’ve gone to my place the past couple times that we’d go there this time too?”
“That’s exactly why I’m asking. It isn’t fair of me to have you host so often without doing so in return.” For someone who used to try so hard to act under the pretense of being an antisocial loner, Faust could get surprisingly particular about etiquette.
“You know, ‘s not like I really mind. It’s not too fair of me to visit since ya always insist on me taking your chair. Makes me feel rude as a guest and all.” Unsurprisingly, Faust’s room reflected that he didn’t expect to have company often.
“I got another chair, so that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.” Nero raised his eyebrows. Nevermind.
They finished the short rest of their walk quietly, and when Faust opened his room door, Nero saw that—just as Faust had said—there was a second chair by the desk. A bottle of red wine (which Faust had picked up from the city their recent mission had been in) and two glasses were on top of the desk.
Unlike the first time Nero had visited Faust’s room for a drink, a certain painting (which Faust had insisted was nothing more than a coaster to place drinks on in response to Nero’s hesitance to use it as such due to his certainty of its greater value) was nowhere in sight, much less anywhere near the glasses. That meant Faust expected Nero to visit that night.
Faust didn’t have to look to know Nero had a cheeky smile on his face. “Sometimes Heath comes to ask about what we did in class. I thought it would be more comfortable for him if we sat level with each other rather than have me standing over him.”
“Does he? You had me thinkin’ I was special for a moment there, Teach. Next you’re gonna tell me he’s a better student than I am.” Despite being the guest in the room, Nero pulled a chair out for Faust to sit first. Faust looked down at the seat and up at Nero, then sighed as he sat down.
“You’re both good. Shino too. I’ve said before that I don’t have any bad students, Nero. Now sit.” Faust kicked the other chair to push it back for Nero so they’d face each other as they sat.
“Well yeah, but am I better than Shino and Heath? I’ve gotta be your favorite, right? Faust?” Nero took his seat.
“Nero...” Faust had the same expression on his face that Nero had seen on the faces of mothers about to cave into their childrens’ requests for dessert back at his old restaurant.
Nero waved his hands in dismissal. “I know, I know. You’re gonna say somethin’ like, ‘You all have different strengths’ and that you’ve ‘got no favorite student’.”
There was something in Nero’s voice that sounded like there would be a “but” following that. Faust waited for it.
“But—” There it was. “—then you’ll say you ‘admit there’s things you can do with me that ya can’t do with the kids’, right?” Nero elbowed Faust’s side in jest.
“Weren’t you just telling me to watch my words earlier?” Faust had made quick work of removing the cork from the bottle while Nero was talking, and was already pouring their glasses.
“Yeah, well,” Nero shrugged. “I said it like that ‘cause you’d say it like that.”
“Would I?” Faust pushed a glass towards Nero. “I wonder where your confidence in being my favorite comes from. After all, Shino and Heath don’t make fun of me like this.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. That’s only because Shino skips the whole ‘making fun’ part and just gets straight to it.”
“He’s more direct, yes. But he doesn’t make fun of my word choice.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Nero took the glass Faust offered, then held it towards him. “Come on, aren’t you gonna say cheers or somethin’ already? Can’t start without ya, Teach. Cheers?”
“Goodness. You really are pushy sometimes, Nero. Cheers,” Faust said as he clinked their glasses together.
Right after they had each taken only a sip, a voice said, “I’d like a glass as well.”
Faust and Nero blinked at each other. That wasn’t either of their voices. They turned their heads towards the source of the voice and Faust sighed. He downed the rest of his glass, looked again, then set his glass down.
“Why are you in my room, Mithra?”
Mithra was standing in an empty area of Faust’s room, carefully avoiding the miscellaneous things strewn about on the floor. Nero watched Faust silently.
“Ah…” Mithra looked through Faust’s room as if that might jog his memory. “I used my door to enter, but as for why… I don’t quite remember. I believe I wanted to talk about something, but it must not have been too important if I don’t remember what it was.”
It looked like Faust was at a loss for words. He looked back at Nero with a tired expression, conveying something like, “I’m sorry about this.”
Nero gave him a look that hopefully said, “Don’t worry about it.” He sipped at his wine.
To occupy himself, Mithra had taken to looking through Faust’s bookshelf. Since the last time he’d been in Faust’s room, it looked like there were new books. Suddenly stalling for a moment, he said, “I remember now. I wanted to talk about the resurrection of cursed beasts. Faust, have you ever—”
“No. I haven’t. Resurrection is forbidden magic. Surely you know that.”
“Of course. Though—”
“If you attempted to resurrect something cursed, I imagine the results would be even worse than if you were to attempt the same on something that wasn’t.”
“Is that so…”
Nero’s eyes bounced back and forth between the other two wizards. He personally wouldn’t talk to Mithra (the Mithra, who was currently the most powerful wizard in the world due to the time) in the same manner Faust was, but if Mithra hadn’t taken any issue with it, then he wasn’t going to point it out.
“That wasn’t an invitation to attempt the resurrection of an uncursed beast.”
Though Mithra’s eyes stayed focused on Faust, he stayed silent long enough for Faust to assume the conversation was over as he poured more wine for himself. “I nearly forgot. I’d like some wine, Faust.”
“No.” Faust’s answer was immediate. “I don’t have another cup.” Nero knew that was a lie, but Mithra didn’t seem to.
Another stretch of silence filled the room as Mithra continued to watch Faust. As much as he tried to ignore the fact that he was being stared at while drinking, the awkward tension in the air was unsettlingly thick. Nero hadn’t finished his first glass, instead swishing it around idly as he bounced his leg.
“Is that so? How unfortunate.” Mithra approached the two Eastern wizards, drawing nearer until he loomed over them.
Faust didn’t bother gracing Mithra with a response. Nero didn’t know how to respond. As such, the room went silent again. There seemed to be some wordless agreement to stay silent; perhaps if they were completely uninteresting, Mithra would grow bored and leave.
Minutes passed by as they all continued to do nothing. It was getting increasingly more difficult for Nero to pretend he didn’t notice the Northern wizard in the room. Nero kept glancing towards Faust for any indication to do something different, but Faust remained steadfast in his efforts to ignore Mithra.
“Faust.”
Faust ignored it.
“Faust.”
Faust looked up at Mithra, but didn’t respond otherwise.
“Faust.”
Faust was suddenly pulled up by the arm. Nero got up too, watching the situation like a cat on edge. Mithra had hold of one of Faust’s wrists, but the other arm was still free and holding a glass that was less than half-filled. It was probably because there wasn’t much in it that it hadn’t spilled, and Nero was glad they wouldn’t have to clean any stains later.
“What is it, Mithra?” Faust leveled him with a glare and tried to yank his arm away. “I don’t know what the Sage sees in you if you treat them this roughly too.”
Mithra just shrugged and grabbed at Faust’s free hand, attempting to take the glass in it. Faust pulled away, leaning as far back as he could.
Carefully placing a hand on Mithra’s shoulder, Nero offered his own glass. “Y’know, you could just take mine? There’s more in mine anyways, so just leave Faust alone, yeah? Or I mean, you could just take the bottle, so…”
For a brief moment Mithra paused, considering his options, then shook his head. “I don’t want yours. I’m going to take Faust’s.” Ah. Yeah. Nero forgot that the Northern wizards had a tendency to only want things that they weren’t supposed to have.
When Mithra looked back towards Faust, his glass was empty. Faust’s lips were slightly tinged red. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened.
“It looks like you’re just gonna have to settle with taking the bottle, then,” Faust said. Eastern wizards could be so difficult sometimes.
“Come on, let go of Faust already.” Nero shook Mithra’s shoulder. Faust shook his wrist out of Mithra’s grasp, but was quickly grabbed by both shoulders instead.
Instead of letting go, Mithra pulled Faust closer—until their faces were only inches away from each other.
Once again, Faust tried to lean as far back away as he could. “Would you get off of me?”
“Hey, let go. Mithra?” Nero shook him again.
Ignoring their words, Mithra decided to pull Faust closer once more—this time into something that resembled a kiss, but was so Mithra-like in fashion that Nero hesitated to call it such. He stood shocked, and only pulled Mithra away by the shoulder once his brain registered Faust trying to push him off.
To both of their surprises, Mithra didn’t resist once Nero pulled him. He simply stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tiletta used to do that.”
Faust’s mouth was still agape. He blinked at Mithra incredulously. “What?”
“Yes. Sometimes she would approach men at bars we visited. She would ask how their drink tasted, and then do the same thing. However, I don’t think she ever did that at Shylock’s…”
Mithra was treating the situation with the kind of casual apathy you’d expect of someone commenting on the weather. Meanwhile Faust and Nero were looking at each other with wide-eyed stares, as if to ask each other, “Is this guy serious?”
“Ah.. Earlier Nero offered the rest of the bottle to me. I’ll take it. Arthim.” Mithra summoned his door, then reached over to grab the bottle still on the desk. “Thank you very much.” Just as suddenly as he’d arrived, he left.
Faust sighed and returned to his seat. He leaned forward onto the desk and put his head in his hands. “...Sorry about that.”
“Yeah, it’s… uh,” Nero gave him an awkward pat on the back, “Don’t worry about it. Maybe he’ll forget about it if we act like it didn’t happen. I won’t say anything if you won’t say anything?”
“Agreed. I’d like to forget it happened too.”