KKM Novel 4, Post 3
Here's the Anissina/Gwendal scene I've been promising since forever... :)
A demon's sixteenth birthday was the real deal. This day was anticipated with equal parts pride and fear.
On the one hand, the child would be accepted into the circle of adulthood, but on the other hand, during the ceremony the child would have to stand all alone and provide detailed self-accountability, surrounded by prominent members of society. It was not rare that a ceremony had to be postponed because the child lapsed into utter cluelessness from a lack of maturity.
The offspring of the ten great houses of nobility were subject to an especially intense interrogation. This torture could drag on for quite a few hours. There was no demon alive who could brag that their initiation rites had gone off without a hitch. This momentous and devastating event would remain forever present in one's memory, no matter how many years passed. Those embarrassing memories that brought a blush of shame to the cheeks would be taken to the grave. Even Lady Anissina von Kavernikov still remembered an inappropriate incident on that day, far in the past.
"That event was really not very enjoyable," Anissina spun around energetically. Her hair made a whipping noise and her bright blue eyes sparked with curiosity and self-confidence. "One of the questioners even started to cry," she added.
A drop of cold sweat ran down Lord Gwendal von Voltaire's temple.
He felt like a mouse which had been caught in the sights of a cat. "What were you even thinking back then, what?!" he yelled -- but only in his mind.
"Oh well, it was merely the reaction of one child, who was also just coming of age," Anissina said. "Even if I may have sounded quite convincing when I spoke of my loyalty to our country and my wish to serve it, there was no reason to take that so literally."
"What exactly did you say?"
"First I spoke of the necessity of restructuring our ministries and public offices. Then I described to them a confidential incident concerning my latest prototype at the time, the magic-driven Butcher-wolf Apparatus."
"Not this story...!"
Already at that time, Anissina was to Gwendal as a mad scientist to her test subject. Her device for the magic-driven production of hamburger meat was truly a successful invention. A giant rotating blade that carved up an entire pig -- that was a sight not so easily forgotten, indeed.
One day it so happened that Anissina's older brother was searching for his beloved housepet, a chicken, which had climbed into the Butcher-wolf cylinder. The end of this story is simply to horrific to be related in these pages.
"No wonder the questioner cried."
"Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Anissina sternly. "That anecdote was simply intended to lighten the mood at the ceremony."
The lady -- who held the unpleasant nickname "The Red Devil" -- operated the controls of her device. Her guinea pig Lord von Voltaire sat on the edge of a stool and was compelled to place both hands into a machine in front of him on a table. His lips formed a silent scream that he was only just able to swallow down. His fingers were spread wide, and fireworks of fluorescent violet sprang from their tips -- magic sparks that flowed, or rather, were pulled, out of his body.
"A-anissina, may I take my hands out of this machine now?"
"Not a moment before all the wool threads are used up."
On the other side of Gwendal's hands, a small sewing machine had been installed. A cross-thread flitted over the clamped horizontal threads, which were yellow in color. It went so fast that it could not be followed with the naked eye. Little by little, a wool fabric with complicated patterns emerged.
"Stop, enough already!" cried Gwendal. "At least turn your knitting machine off for a moment!"
"Quit making such a fuss!"
Anissina and Gwendal had known each other since childhood. She had taught him to knit, and had written at least 10,000 times in her journal that she would dedicate her life to the revival and prosperity of the Demon Empire. By outward appearances she looked small and delicate, but she was a strong and energetic person, who along with Madame Cherie was counted among the three most powerful demon women of the empire.
"Damn it," groaned Gwendal. "You truly are one of the three greatest nightmares of the empire."
"Would you like to say that one more time?"
Anissina detatched the finished product from her knitting machine, picked it up and examined it critically. The coloring and uniformity of the stitches were perfect, but the quality left something to be desired.
"Bah, the soft and delicate structure can only be created from the sensitive touch of real fingers. So in conclusion, this is..."
"... A failed design, right?" Gwendal ended her sentence.
"Correctly recognized. But how did you know?"
"Because that's how it's been for 150 years," muttered Gwendal as he dropped his head onto the tabletop. Why did she always have to keep inventing these useless devices? True, the Butcher-wolf Apparatus had been really impressive, a true masterwork -- in many, many aspects.
"Gwendal, you disappoint me!"
That wasn't the first time Gwendal had heard that, either. His only consolation was that no one knew about his pitiable circumstances -- at least, so he thought. Actually everyone had known for a long time that he was the test subject of the crazy sorceress.
Aww. I got nothin' but "awww."
A demon's sixteenth birthday was the real deal. This day was anticipated with equal parts pride and fear.
On the one hand, the child would be accepted into the circle of adulthood, but on the other hand, during the ceremony the child would have to stand all alone and provide detailed self-accountability, surrounded by prominent members of society. It was not rare that a ceremony had to be postponed because the child lapsed into utter cluelessness from a lack of maturity.
The offspring of the ten great houses of nobility were subject to an especially intense interrogation. This torture could drag on for quite a few hours. There was no demon alive who could brag that their initiation rites had gone off without a hitch. This momentous and devastating event would remain forever present in one's memory, no matter how many years passed. Those embarrassing memories that brought a blush of shame to the cheeks would be taken to the grave. Even Lady Anissina von Kavernikov still remembered an inappropriate incident on that day, far in the past.
"That event was really not very enjoyable," Anissina spun around energetically. Her hair made a whipping noise and her bright blue eyes sparked with curiosity and self-confidence. "One of the questioners even started to cry," she added.
A drop of cold sweat ran down Lord Gwendal von Voltaire's temple.
He felt like a mouse which had been caught in the sights of a cat. "What were you even thinking back then, what?!" he yelled -- but only in his mind.
"Oh well, it was merely the reaction of one child, who was also just coming of age," Anissina said. "Even if I may have sounded quite convincing when I spoke of my loyalty to our country and my wish to serve it, there was no reason to take that so literally."
"What exactly did you say?"
"First I spoke of the necessity of restructuring our ministries and public offices. Then I described to them a confidential incident concerning my latest prototype at the time, the magic-driven Butcher-wolf Apparatus."
"Not this story...!"
Already at that time, Anissina was to Gwendal as a mad scientist to her test subject. Her device for the magic-driven production of hamburger meat was truly a successful invention. A giant rotating blade that carved up an entire pig -- that was a sight not so easily forgotten, indeed.
One day it so happened that Anissina's older brother was searching for his beloved housepet, a chicken, which had climbed into the Butcher-wolf cylinder. The end of this story is simply to horrific to be related in these pages.
"No wonder the questioner cried."
"Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Anissina sternly. "That anecdote was simply intended to lighten the mood at the ceremony."
The lady -- who held the unpleasant nickname "The Red Devil" -- operated the controls of her device. Her guinea pig Lord von Voltaire sat on the edge of a stool and was compelled to place both hands into a machine in front of him on a table. His lips formed a silent scream that he was only just able to swallow down. His fingers were spread wide, and fireworks of fluorescent violet sprang from their tips -- magic sparks that flowed, or rather, were pulled, out of his body.
"A-anissina, may I take my hands out of this machine now?"
"Not a moment before all the wool threads are used up."
On the other side of Gwendal's hands, a small sewing machine had been installed. A cross-thread flitted over the clamped horizontal threads, which were yellow in color. It went so fast that it could not be followed with the naked eye. Little by little, a wool fabric with complicated patterns emerged.
"Stop, enough already!" cried Gwendal. "At least turn your knitting machine off for a moment!"
"Quit making such a fuss!"
Anissina and Gwendal had known each other since childhood. She had taught him to knit, and had written at least 10,000 times in her journal that she would dedicate her life to the revival and prosperity of the Demon Empire. By outward appearances she looked small and delicate, but she was a strong and energetic person, who along with Madame Cherie was counted among the three most powerful demon women of the empire.
"Damn it," groaned Gwendal. "You truly are one of the three greatest nightmares of the empire."
"Would you like to say that one more time?"
Anissina detatched the finished product from her knitting machine, picked it up and examined it critically. The coloring and uniformity of the stitches were perfect, but the quality left something to be desired.
"Bah, the soft and delicate structure can only be created from the sensitive touch of real fingers. So in conclusion, this is..."
"... A failed design, right?" Gwendal ended her sentence.
"Correctly recognized. But how did you know?"
"Because that's how it's been for 150 years," muttered Gwendal as he dropped his head onto the tabletop. Why did she always have to keep inventing these useless devices? True, the Butcher-wolf Apparatus had been really impressive, a true masterwork -- in many, many aspects.
"Gwendal, you disappoint me!"
That wasn't the first time Gwendal had heard that, either. His only consolation was that no one knew about his pitiable circumstances -- at least, so he thought. Actually everyone had known for a long time that he was the test subject of the crazy sorceress.
Aww. I got nothin' but "awww."