Evadale Knight Order (Master Trix)

Remaining in a state of grief wasn’t going to help me find my brothers. I convinced myself of this mindset.

“Why yah fear?” Bulldog had once asked me during one of our Zen training sessions.

Back then I had no answer. Now I understood what he was trying to teach me. Fear pushed my determination to find my brothers. Hope gave me a belief that they were unharmed. These feelings balanced each other with a purpose. Right now, it was prudent, learning as much of the place I had been thrown into. So far, luck was on my side.

I noticed there was an inner wall partition near the night table, which masked the view of the attached bathing alcove. The alcove had enough space to fit a one-man square shaped tub and a strange U-shaped seat with a funnel hole. I learned that the seat was called a Washlet Basin.

“According to Master Trix’s definition, ‘it’s a throne to relieve one’s load.’ I believe the proper term is human excretion device.” Forneas had crudely answered my question in regard to it.

When the basin’s iron side handle was cranked and released, spurts of water sprayed upwards to clean out the embarrassing body region. Crank the handle a second time, spurts of warm air and a lemon scent was released to dry down the area.

All good and well, but Forneas failed to mention what happened when the handle was cranked too much and released too fast. 

“Forneeaas!” I screamed when a geyser of hot air threw me through the rice paper wall partition.

I landed on the other side of the room with my naked butt in the air and face squashed to the ground. A compromising position no decent human being should ever experience.

“Oh, yes, that tends to happen from time to time.” Forneas had nonchalantly excused the incident.

“Ha!” I grumpily exhaled, blowing off annoying strands of fringe that had strayed into my eyes.

I stumbled to my feet and reclaimed my decency, feeling relieved that the only ones to witness my contorted body pose were a machine and a spider.

Either way, I was able to perform my ablution and say my prayers despite the conditions and my mixed feelings of anal violation.

Forneas never left the room. I didn’t receive other visitors after Leinard’s pop in. I figured that the care I received was subject to my level of threat.

I accepted the perks offered whilst I mulled over an escape plan and means to search for my brothers. 

The animachine brought in meals according to my preferences. Small Cap was given free rein of the room. Forneas offered him bugs and invertebrate suited his taste. Our happy bellies made it difficult to find the motivation to leave.

It was during one of my meal sittings that an odd bird of a man had dropped into the room from the ceiling and messed up my dinner.

“Gaah!” I cursed bitterly when my choice pieces of spring onion dumplings went flying all over the place and sauces were splayed across the ground.

I saw a pulchritude face of a man I haphazardly guessed to be around Death’s age.

A bronze monocle patch was strapped over his natural right eye. As I peered closer, I noticed the lens refracted colors as a kaleidoscope would when moved about.

I yelped when his natural left eye flicked open, his blue eyeball moved up and down as if it was performing a scan on my face like Forneas’s eye had done on Small Cap.

“Woah, a pretty angel!” The man piped up.

His large white-gloved hands cupped the sides of my head and pressed my lips onto his. I struggled to free myself from our lip-lock; oddly felt at ease from the warmth his lips pressed to mine. 

My eyes caught sight of the small body that had landed on his head. I was released when the man’s arms flailed about the air, struggling against Small Cap's eight-legged assault that messed up tufts of his short brown hair.

I shuffled to a safer position behind Forneas, vigorously wiped at my mouth and threw every bit of remaining drink down my throat to cleanse away germs that man would have given me.

When I had sanitized enough, I saw that Small Cap had been shaken off to the ground and stretched out with exhaustion.

The man was also panting for breath against the busted partition. “So that’s the spider Leinard was muttering about,” he chuckled when he had recovered his breath. “Pretty brutal attack for a small pest.”

I frowned.

He pushed himself up off the floor and stood before me, picking off bits of my meal from his dark patchwork overcoat unfastened to reveal his white cotton shirt beneath a buttoned-up navy blue vest and matching blue tie with a gold star symbol at its center.

I saw the largeness of his hands when they dusted off the remaining food debris from his navy-blue pants tucked into calf-length black boots. His long legs carried shape and promise of sinew strength.

“Sturdy like a racehorse,” I blurted and blushed when I had realized what came out of my mouth.

He picked up the coils of rope and a belt of finger size tube metal shells from the floor, removed his overcoat and began fitting them over his chest, so they were crisscrossed against his vest.

My eyes wandered over the outline of his body, which hinted at athleticism. They loitered around the tanned purpose belt—with attached pouch—to his waist and the strangely shaped holster strapped around his right thigh.

“You can keep checking me out. I don’t mind.” He smirked, standing tall, so I saw him in full glory.

“I would never!” I averted his gaze.

Forneas surprised me when he welcomed the intruder warmly by name.

“Oh, Master Trix. I was expecting you to drop in later. I would have laid another plate.” He skillfully cleared away the mess on the square meal mat that was in lieu of a table.

“Drop in? More like crashed in. Just look at the hole in the ceiling.” I pointed upwards to draw everyone’s attention to the gaping hole above us.

“If you were intending to hold me prisoner, you need to rethink your cell design,” I complained and received laughter from the man Forneas had called Trix.

“An angel with an attitude,” Trix commented.

He fiddled with his monocle until he was satisfied it was on properly.

“Call me Trix, Ohime-sama. I’m at your disposal.” He surprised me with a genuflection and tender kiss to the back of my hand.

I responded with a reflective backhanded slap to his face. It wasn’t enough to shake off the creeps I felt running up my arm.

“Gaah! You’re one of those perverts Death warned me of, aren’t you?”

“Master Trix is the Map of Hell’s Labyrinth. It would be impossible for our knights to find their way around the place without him,” Forneas answered.

“Map?” I frowned, perplexed on how this perverted man before me could be a map.

Trix faced me with a sober expression. I noticed his uncanny likeness to the man called Leinard for the first time.

“Down to brass tacks. Forneas.” He clicked his fingers to stir Forneas into action.

The animachine rummaged around the insides of the night table drawer and returned with a big box that he placed before me. He opened the box to reveal clothes. I gawked at the pile.

“Dumping your laundry on me?” I looked to Trix.

“Call it a welcome gift,” Trix declared. “Who knows how long that tunic you’re wearing will last before it drops off. Although I wouldn’t find it a displeasure, to see you running around in your birthday suit.” 

I cringed at his tacky words and gingerly touched the cloth.

The white butterfly collar blouse felt smooth and fluid. The gentleman’s navy-blue vest was unexpectedly light, even with the middle row of pure brass buttons joining the flaps together.

I unboxed a pair of crease-free tanned cotton pants, suspenders, a dark double-belt pouch, gray flat cap and open finger gloves.

The red bow tie next to the cap had intrigued me the most. I had only seen great scholars wear these in Bulldog’s newspaper books.

“I’m sure I’ll be smarter if I wore this,” I blurted with glee, holding out the bow tie before me.

“Unlikely,” Forneas flatly answered.

“Mean!” I pouted, figuring out on how I should dress in the outfit. 

“How long you’re going to sit there?” Trix suggestively smirked. “Hurry up and undress.”

An unpleasant vibe ran down my spine.

Small Cap scrambled up my arm to stand guard on my shoulder. “Not worry Freend. I bite big two-leg’s face if he causes trouble.” He reassured me.

I peered at Trix’s face, wondering what he was thinking.

He was, as Death would describe such a man, handsome. His unseemly behavior was a major turn-off. Who the hell kisses a stranger upon first sight?

“You’re not implying I undress before you?” I frowned. 

“Embarrassed? No need to be, we’re both men.” His form of reassurance achieved the opposite result.

“I think not!” I nervously snapped.

My heart thumped wildly against my chest when Trix approached the box of clothes.

The potent scent of vanilla and citrus from his body made me feel off balanced.

He pulled out the shirt and laid it against my back. I was too petrified to move away.

Small Cap raised his legs and swiped at the pervert’s face.

I yelped when his small body flew across the room from the backhand hit Trix had given in retaliation. He landed to the ground, unconscious.

“Small Cap! You bastard!” I spat at Trix.

It didn’t faze him. “Now that the critter is dealt with, I’ll help you undress.” His hot breath heated the back of my ears.

Obscured images flooded my mind. I felt a tingling sensation where his fingers stroked and teased my bare skin. My will was slipping away, not wanting to resist his kisses.

“Master Trix!” Forneas knocked Trix off me.

My senses had recovered, along with the will to move. I shuffled away from the man, who was shaking his head out of a daze.

“H-Hey! Whada Sol? B-Back off, you p-pervert!” I stammered my threat and shuffled to where Small Cap was.

My mind scrambled for an escape but failed. I couldn’t think straight in this dangerous situation. The ground quaked beneath us, adding to my escalating discomfort.

Running boots and curt yelling approached the room.

Two boys about my age, wearing glasses and donning the same uni‐ form as Trix—minus the ropes—stormed into view.

“Report,” Trix ordered the intruders.

“We have a problem,” stated the boy wearing thick framed glasses.

He stared at me for some time before speaking again. ”Strange prisoner.”

“Unexpected intruder, carry on.” Trix corrected the boy.

The other boy pushed his round framed glasses up the flat bridge of his button nose.

“The skrit in the West Wing gone berserk. They’re attacking any knight and prisoner they come across,” he soberly reported.

I was surprised by the serious frown creasing Trix’s forehead. His mannerisms to the other boys contrasted the treatment he gave me. Was his perverseness a way of testing character?

“How many knights are stationed?” he coolly asked.

“Four squads. Colonel had Colin’s team come in from the field to help. I don’t know how much longer they can hold out,” said the round- glasses boy.

He noticed me for the first time.

“Captain, you don’t think...” His voice trailed off. Fierce tremors shook the walls.

A gust of icy wind chilled my face. A group of hairless and eyeless tree-men in black suits barged into the room.

It was them; the ones responsible for my misery. The rage I felt for revenge replaced every other emotion in my heart.

“Bastards!” I lurched for them with fists raised, ignoring the warnings from the other men.

A tree-man grabbed my arms, raised me to the air, then slammed me to the ground with brute force.

“Ugh!” I cried out from the jarring pain I felt to my back.

High pitch shrieking attacked my eardrums. It was silenced by a wave of blue light.

“Stay down!” The round-glasses boy shouted at me.

He pulled out an iron marble from his coat pocket and threw it at the tree-man.

I shuddered at the shrilling noise the ball made in the air before it pierced the tree-man’s chest like tissue paper.

The demon burned with white light; its body was sucked inwards. A light shower of glitter replaced the creature.

“What?!” I gasped.

The room became an overwhelming din of shrills and high-pitched shrieks. My rage changed to fear as I was unable to move a muscle from the deafening noise jabbing at my eardrums.

“Eguzkiaren argia, sua deitzen dut!” Trix bellowed.

Fireballs formed in the air to hit the tree-men. The ones before us shrieked and writhed with pain before transforming into free-falling ash or glitter.

Tree-men reinforcements entered and faced the same drastic fate.

Where one skrit fell, another entered to take its place The noise intensified, air crackled and became hot.

“Aargh!” I cursed as I struggled to free my ankle from the clutches of a tree-man.

Swooping sounds blew across my ears. I was momentarily disoriented by a series of white flashes. My vision cleared to the sight of the tree-man’s hands crumbling to ash.

I relished the short-lived relief to my ears.

A couple more knights entered the room to aid the fight.

“Get him out of here!” I heard Leinard shout out his order from behind them.

He skillfully hacked his way inside with a pair of daggers.

Small Cap was still unconscious near Leinard’s boots. I scooped him up and into my pocket before he could be stomped on.

My countenance paled at the sight of three tiers of jagged teeth bared before me.

“Buddha, protect me,” I panted.

The tree-man shrieked before it imploded into a glitter shower.

The atmosphere became unbearable; it was hard to breathe, see anything. I was too fatigued to move.

“Goddamn useless weakling,” I mumbled, my self-loathing. My eyes drooped heavily.

Hands pulled me up. I groaned in Trix’s arms as he carried me out of the lantern room.

A thumping pain to my temples forced my mind into unconscious.