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1180, 7th of the Harpstring Moon
■■■■■■■■■ Realm
“I'm booooooored! It's been thirty years, since I got to mess with some mortals!”
A being of blackened skin with legs twice the size of the rest of its body stretched its bony arms, looking as though it were about to pout. Its legs were pulled to its chest so as to leave space for the person it was complaining at, as it sat on a dune of grey sand, while its partner floated in front of it.
“And it's been thirty years of you complaining about being punished for breaking the rules”, another being said in a tired voice. This one did not seem to have skin at all, instead being made of dark blue bones forming a large pair of hands attached to an eyeball. “You should be glad you didn't get your notebook taken for longer than that.”
“Come on, it was some harmless fun, that's all! Succession wars are always so interesting, who cares if I had to pull some strings. I might go and start another, actually. Ol' Riegan's about to keel over, anyways, and his heir's not accepted by the other nobles.”
“And I'm sure killing him is all you're going to do?”, the eyeball asked, sounding like she knew for a fact the other being wouldn't be able to restrain itself.
“Maybe! Ooh, or maybe I could play the ol' snake-and-apple trick!”
It was impressive how the being's partner could convey a mixture of murderous intent and tired exasperation with only a single eye. “Just when I thought none of the people stupid enough to do that were left over …”
“Hey, it's not stupid! If I happen to drop a notebook, and a human happens to find it, surely I can't be blamed for it.” The being looked very satisfied with itself. “That one guy - what was his name, Rug? Rio? Ryu? - did it eighteen times before the king got fed up with him for good!”
“That was approximately nine millenia ago”, the being's partner retorted. “After that, nobody has repeated it.”
“So? They're just boring! How could they be anything else? Our realm is all grey and depressing, not at all like the world below! Well, it might have been grey and drab during the time some dragon flooded it.”
“Assuming that the king doesn't catch you – and that is a big assumption – what will you do if the human gets your note destroyed? You'd be as good as dead, in that case.”
“Oh, Verin, Verin, you just have no imagination at all. Of course I won't hand my own notebook over to some random mortal. That's why I got a spare!”
“You … have a spare? Then why didn't you use that while you were banned from using your own notebook?”
“Sure, I could have done that … If I wanted to get caught disobeying the king. Not a fun situation to be in, you know. Besides, I only got it around two years ago, when Nabori faded after forgetting to write names for a couple centuries.”
“I am far too surprised at the fact you actually managed to have enough sense to do that.”
The being cackled at Verin's dry statement. “Oh, I have plenty of sense. I just know how to have fun, too. Hmm … Yes, I think I will drop Nabori's book. There's plenty of potential this year! The mortals've got a genocidal civilization hidden underground, a pope that could turn murderous at the drop of a hat, a princess that might decide to get revenge on the empire that killed her people, a maniac dressing up like one of us, a prince that's one bad day away from becoming a wild beast … Oh, there's so much potential to have fun!”
“This is incredibly unwise, and when you get caught, I will tell you that I warned you.”
The being cackled again, while Verin merely sighed. “Of course you will, sister dearest, of course you will.
“We're not even related!”, was all Verin could yell, as the other being flew away on wings that seemed to be made from grey smoke.
---XxXxX---
Garreg Mach Monastery, Training Grounds
The early sun was just rising, as a boy with blue hair threw open the door to the training grounds, stepping inside with energy in every step.
“Alright! I even got here before Raphael and Felix! That's a first! Heh, I'll soon be strong enough to beat even the Professor, if I keep this up!”
As the boy went to pick up one of the training axes, he tripped over something right in the middle of the training grounds, landing smack on his face.
“Ouch! What was that?” Getting up, he took a look at what he tripped over. “A book? Huh, I guess someone must have forgotten it here. Let's see … 'Death Note'? Sheesh, what kind of title is this?”
The boy flipped through it, only to find that the pages were completely blank.
“Eh? There's not even anything written in here? I guess it's just a fancy notebook. Well, at least it's empty, that means nobody lost their notes for class.” As he was about to close the book, the boy noticed that the first few pages did contain writing.
“Hold on, what's this about? 'How to use it'? It's a notebook, you just write stuff in it, right?”
As the boy read through the instructions, his eyes grew wide. “This thing kills people?! I never heard of magic notebooks, but I guess they could exist … Wait, no, then nobody would need soldiers! So, this can't be real, right? Yeah, it's probably just some prank. Claude probably wants revenge after we kicked his butt in the mock battle!”
Satisfied with this explanation, the boy simply put the notebook in his bag, and didn't keep bothering with it – There was training to be done, after all!
---XxXxX---
Garreg Mach Monastery, Dining Hall
At lunch, the boy had completely forgotten about the notebook. Instead, he was talking with – or rather, at – the Professor, while Bernadetta did her best to minimize her presence.
“So, what do you think is the better way to fight a mage? Fists or an axe? Linhardt always says fists are the better option, but an axe to the face takes everyone out, so that's also a good option, right?”
The Professor took another spoonful of her desert, thinking for a bit, before she answered. “Fists counter magic. You can punch faster than mages can chant. A hit to the throat stops any spell.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. I guess an axe would be too slow for that, wouldn't it?” Suddenly remembering the notebook he found, the boy asked another question. “Oh, by the way, Professor, while we're already talking about magic, what's the strongest spell out there?”
“Ragnarok. It's very good at killing people.”
“So there's no, like, instant-kill spell, right?”, the boy asked. “Because I really wouldn't want to go up against someone with a spell like that!”
“No. A hit to the heart or head might be instantly lethal, but it is not an innate property of any spell, as far as I know.” She looked at the boy oddly. “Are you worried about this month's mission? Don't. Even if there are spells like that, Kostas' bandits wouldn't know them. Fear and recklessness are both far more efficient killers.”
Bernadetta squeaked at that. “Eh? F-fear is a killer? N-no, I like fear! Fear is my friend! It wouldn't kill me, right?”
“Survival instinct and fear are different things. You're more like … a prey animal. It is a matter of instinct.”
“Why are you the second person to call me prey?! D-dont eat Bernie!” Faster than the boy had ever seen anyone move, Bernadetta had dashed away, leaving him alone with the Professor.
“Strange. I thought that was comforting.”
Not for the first time, the boy had to wonder whether his teacher had ever interacted with another human being before.
---XxXxX---
Garreg Mach Monastery, Dormitory
After lunch, the boy had returned to his room, taking the notebook he found out of his bag.
“Right … That bandit guy that attacked us was called Kostas. Argh, I hate guys like him, that take advantage of others! I … guess it couldn't hurt to try the Death Note, right? We'd be going to kill him, anyway, so if it works, that just makes things easier. And if it doesn't, I know for sure this is a prank!” The boy seemed quite pleased with his decision. “Yeah! Let's do it!”
Taking out his quill, the boy scribbled a name onto the blank page, picturing the bandit who had led the attack on their camp in the previous month.
“Alright!”, he said. “Now I'll know if it actually works!”