The One Unworthy of Legends - V:1.1 - Maria's Ascension

~ Chapter 1 ~ Midnight Meeting

The sound of a pen scratching against paper echoed in a dimly lit room while a fire burned quietly in the hearth. 

Knock knock.

Moonlight cascaded through the large window mixing with the fire's light to give the room a warm feeling. An older man sat at the desk writing as a knock was heard at his door. The man looked up towards the door, a smile crept up his old face. The man had eyes like a crow, smart and devious. He had silver hair, likely not natural, but more from age revealed in the shadowed wrinkles across his face.

"Come in." He called out, stacking the papers and moving them to the side of his desk as he stood up. It's not like their was anything to hide, no it was probably a nervous tendency for him.

Screech.

The sound of a chair cut through the night. A Chill seemed to sweep the room as the door opened to reveal a young man with a mischievous smile. The fire trembled, pushing back the shadows slightly to reveal the man. He wore a black trench coat, the hem of the coat split into two points, reminiscent of a butler's tailcoat. Beneath his coat he wore a black buttoned vest over a fancy white shirt with a ruffled front erupting from the V-neck of the vest. He realigned his collar casually as his eyes narrowed on the old man approaching him. 

His black slacks caused him to seemingly fade as if he was a floating torso with slicked back black hair that complimented his red eyes. He also wore shiny black shoes reflecting a mix of the golden fire light and the moon as it seemed to glare at the new guest through the window. A pocket watch hung from his pocket on a chain. This particular pocket watch was black and red metallic, the clock face ticked away against a blood red magic circle that glowed. Lastly a pendant hung from his neck, He brushed his fingers against it when straightening his collar. The pendant was a snake wrapped around a dagger. This man's presence evoked a sense of danger and darkness that would cause most to sweat just by being near him. The old man was thankful for the lighting which gave him shadows to hide his emotions that threatened to slip out, he was afraid as much as he was excited.

"Ah, welcome Mr. Maxwell, we have much to discuss." The old man reached his hand out towards his guest, his blue eyes filled with purpose and expectation. However, contrary to this expectation Maxwell stood at the door with his hands in the pockets of his coat and his elbows pointed back in a very relaxed, but arrogant posture. He made no move to accept the friendly gesture. This should have annoyed the man who was a Noble, a Baron. This was a blatant act of disrespect towards him especially from Maxwell who wasn't just a commoner but a Black Market dealer of illegal status. On the contrary though, Seraph did nothing, what this man could give was more valuable.

"Ah, yes. How's your daughter?" Maxwell asked, avoiding the handshake as he slipped into the room walking calmly towards the fireplace. This question introduced an odd emotion into the surrounding air, a sense of constriction  almost like a threat had been issued. However the older man was fully aware that this was no threat more a checkup on the current state of his own affairs. The older fella let that hand fall as a sense of frustration and a little worry came about from the interaction.

"Umm, Maria, yes, well. . . She's still going against everything, her mother instilled values I can't seem to crush." He spoke hesitantly as his thoughts briefly lingered on his late wife, the most unusual death left a bitter taste in his mouth. It probably could have been done cleaner but to this day it had yet to come back to bite him.

"Yes I'm aware, but your other daughter? Sarah is who I am interested in." Maxwell settled into a large chair in front of the fire, the flickering light creating an atmosphere that fit him scarily well, his eyes drifted to the swords crossed and sheathed into a shield above the mantle of the hearth. The fire's light reflected off of them giving them an almost golden hue. This was definitely not an omen, for these swords to Maxwell at least represented a decline rather than a rise. He seemed to be remembering something or maybe seeing a perceived future. He always seemed particularly distant during these interactions almost as if he wasn't all there. Whether that be because he wasn't truly interested in most of what was going on or because he wasn't all right in the head wasn't a question the older man dared to ask.