Butler
Butler took a small sip of tea as he listened to Wiseman's story, carefully taking in every detail. Once the wizard was done, he laid his cup back down, and looked to the other man.
"That is quite the rich tale. I hope you'll forgive me if mine does not seem up to par," he said, unnecessarily coughing into his hand before continuing. "Bear with my unorthodox method of narration. It is the best way I know to tell my story."
Butler let his hands drop to his lap closed, straightened himself out, and with a long intake of breath began.
"Once there was a little boy whose family had been separated and sold into slavery, the boy included. The boy was alone, and mistreated, and did not know what to do about himself. But he was bought by a quaint sir, who wanted a young aide he could mold as he desired. The boy's new master was kind, kinder than any of the slavers or the previous people he had to serve, and he was generous.
The sir taught the boy a lot. He taught him how to read, how to write, how to fight, how to use a firearm, how to serve. He wanted to teach the boy all he could, and in return the boy served him well, and loved him like a surrogate father. One day, the boy dared to ask him about his estranged family, and much to his surprise, not only did his master answer his inquiries, he gave him all the aid he could in tracking them down.
Alas, the boy was too late to find them. His family had all perished by the time he went on his journey. Demotivated, he returned to his master. And though the good sir could not console him, he offered him freedom and any amount of money he wanted to find his way in the world again. But the boy decided to stay. He had nothing else left aside from his master. This decision struck the sir, who swore upon the boy eternal friendship. So the years went by. Until one day, the boy's master collapsed. He had not died yet - but he was knocking at the doors of death. So the sir asked the boy, who he loved as the son he never had, if he would receive one final gift from him. Anything, the boy answered.
You see, the sir was a magician. One who had pursued the occult and the mystic for the sake of knowledge alone, always seeking to touch the divine with his mind. In the final years of his life, he had finally found something of substance in that research. And though he could use it to save himself, he didn't. Instead, he granted the boy an undying body made with flesh stolen from the realm of God, and wished that he would live on.
So the magician passed away. And the boy was left alone. In devotion to his master, thankful of his kindness, in adoration of his character, and appreciation of what he was taught, the boy - long past a man, now even beyond Man - resolved to dedicate his life to those that would be worthy of it. For himself, and for his master, to thank him for all he had done for him."
Butler ducked his head as he finished the story told as if in a single breath, giving the impression of someone dozing off in reminiscence. For a moment, his featureless skull of a face was alive with the expression of an tried and aged man, brightened by nostalgia and fondness. The next instant, it was gone, and he looked up to Wiseman.
"Did I satisfy your curiosity accordingly?" He asked, once more bringing his cup to his mouth.
