[Seven-Minute Semblance] GENIUSFORSALE & VORSTELLUNGEN

VORSTELLUNGEN || Chapter 3 - Hemlock

Edward Dace.

18. March.
Friday, 7:00 p.m.
Mýrdalshreppur, Iceland.

IT TOOK US two days to actually find a safe and suitable place to stay.

I can't count how many times I've tried to convince them that we can stay at a hotel, but Sir Lance said we can't risk being seen on cities. I asked if we could stay at Vorstellungen's base but Laevateinn said we still have to wait for Hemlock to get married before we join and before Vorstellungen could allow us inside their base.

I also asked if I could buy a house in Iceland but apparently that is stupid, takes time, and goes on record.

I stopped suggesting places and just decided to complain about how my feet hurt, how my knees hurt, how I was too cold, and how I just wanna stay inside a cosy turf house and play video games.

Laevateinn got so annoyed, he finally invited us to his own house.

I can't believe whining got me what I wanted.

Laevateinn led us to his place some kilometres away from Vik. It's a charming two-storey Bauhaus-inspired house. Like Forseti's house, 372A High Street, it's black and white. The inside was darker and older than I expected and smelt oddly of old books.

We settled and with the groceries we bought on the way, Futhark cooked us dinner.

We ate dinner at the kitchen, where Laevateinn casually brought up the topic of Hemlock's wedding.

"You two need to get married immediately," he said. "We can't stay here for more than a week."

Futhark got worried. "Bakit? May makakakita ba sa 'tin dito?"

"No, I just don't like the idea of too many people in my house."

Sir Lance grimaced and sliced the lamb Joyeuse and I didn't want to touch. "It's not like we can waltz inside a chapel and say, "Hey! Marry us!""

"Aren't you going to tell your family?" I asked, staring at the herring on my plate.

"I told Hermod, so everyone in my family probably know now." Sir Lance shrugged.

"I'm waiting for Luciano to die," Sir Arthur said, bluntly. "I could slip it somewhere in his eulogy, if I'd have the decency to give him a eulogy."

"What about your mu—ARGH!"

Laevateinn stepped on my foot before I could finish the word "mum".

"We're planning to have a small wedding." Sir Lance narrowed his eyes at me, as if warning me not to say another word about Sir Arthur's mum.

"Isn't your nephew Forseti a judge?" Joyeuse asked and drank beer like water. "He can marry you."

"But he's in the Philippines."