Chapter Text
“You would think that being crippled would mean getting a break from these gatherings, but nooo, they except me to somehow get into this damned dress trouser.”
Gepard grumbles, currently standing in the middle of his room. His upper body has a shirt and vest on, a simple dark-blue, Landau style. The dress trouser he’s been told to put on are in his hands, being looked down upon with displeasure.
Serval, the only other person in the room, snorts, already stunningly prepared in her own white suit, “Shut up, I’m not going to lift you up when it’s just us, now hurry up and put them on.”
Gepard grumbles some more, but obediently turns around and puts on the navy trouser, then leans over to put on his socks and leather shoes.
“You could just sit on your wheelchair, you know.” Serval says.
Gepard turns around, smoothing the creases on the fabric, “I just want to stand a bit longer.” He stretches out his hand, “Jacket?”
Serval throws the suit jacket at him, the gold embroidery glittering in the air.
“Mother would kill you if she sees you doing that,” Gepard says as he catches it.
“Nah, she’ll kill you first if she comes in,” Serval grins. “Hurry, we’ve probably only got a couple minutes left.”
Gepard sighs at the seamless logic and puts the jacket on, wincing when he lifts his left arm. Serval notices the slight expression change and looks slightly more concerned.
“You’ve got to change the way you fight, Geppie.” She says, her voice still light, “At this rate, I’ll start to think that you’re a masochist.”
“I’m not.” Gepard puts the jacket on, his left arm slightly more careful in it movements.
Serval crosses her arms, “That’s not what it seemed like when you ‘forgot’ about your dying arm three days ago. Do you know it takes time and materials to repair your outfit?”
“…Sorry for taking up your time.” Gepard mumbles as he buttons up his suit.
Serval scoffs, “Just for that? Not for your own arm?” She points at him dramatically, “I can tell, you don’t care. As I said, masochist.”
Gepard huffs and adjusts the cuffs on his right sleeve, not answering Serval’s accusation. He sits down on his waiting wheelchair, shifting his legs to a comfortable position for the next few hours.
“Let’s go.”
Serval rolls her eyes at him, “Denial.”
“…I am not a masochist.” Gepard stiffly adjusts his collar, “C’mon, I thought we were in a hurry?”
The crowd moves under the chandelier slowly, a hum of polite chatter just audible over the faint classical music. The Landau family doesn’t host large gatherings like this very often, so everyone worthy of a name has squeezed into this hall with their most exquisite attire.
Among the well-dressed people, an equally well-dressed—almost too normally well-dressed—man in purple slips through every conversation and fluttering fans, his broad figure seeming to appear within all sights before instantly disappearing again at the next second.
“Oh! My apologies, I can’t believe I didn’t see you earlier…”
“Me? I’m just a modest dealer…”
“Did I mention how much I love your earrings? Those pearls…”
“Oh! I am honored to receive such compliments from someone like you…”
“I know, right? He has done exactly the same to my friend, and it’s just…”
“Actually, I just happen to know someone who can get those parts that you need…”
Sampo lets out a contented sigh as he cheerfully accepts another drink from the passing waiter. The effort of getting into this fancy gathering is beginning to show its worth, as shown with the firm wad of business cards in his suit pocket. He hasn’t really made his name known yet with this class of people, being a bit occupied with helping the poor and the Underworld (“I’m just the nice person, okay?”). This made it possible for him to slip into this very-rare-Landau-hosting gathering, because who can resist knowing a bit more rich people?
If you’re asking what else he’s trying to do here, then he’ll just gasp and shake his head dramatically.
(“I just want some free drinks, what’s wrong with that?”)
He pops another tiny tart into his mouth—lemon is always the best, they make his tongue shrivel up and die in a good way—as he observes the way the group of elite businessmen or noble members or some other upper-class kind of people flows around the main hall, flitting towards each other like birds.
Sampo finds them to be like canaries. Constantly looking for nectar from flower to flower, and they also tend to be extremely delicate (vulnerable).
And in some cases, Sampo’s eyes turn towards one of the few centers of attention for tonight, A pleasant sight to view.
The crowd thins (probably because they finally remembered the food part), revealing Gepard Landau, impeccably dressed in blue, sitting on a wheelchair.
Sampo’s eyebrow jumps at the new accessory. Well. Guess the newspaper is reliable enough for once.
He knows Gepard Landau, of course. Why, he can almost assure that the Landau prince has probably chased after him more than any other girl. It was one of the few amusements he had in Belobog, watching the man’s internal battle—usually created by yours truly—between chasing after him and breaking some boring protocol of leaving patrol areas.
Sampo was even feeling anticipated when he heard of how close Gepard Landau was to becoming the Silvermane Captain. That means more power of Gepard, more risks for himself. It would be the best fun he had for ages, besides just seeing more monsters descend onto this planet every day.
But now, seeing how all of that fun is now all gone, constricted in the moving seat under the no-longer-will-be-captain Gepard, Sampo can’t help but feel disappointed. He really hopes that the new Captain—Dunn, if he remembers correctly—can live up to his expectations. He has quite a few surprises for them.
But still…Sampo finds his gaze drawn to those smiling but impassive blue eyes, looking up towards some random businessman. What a shame.
“Oh! What is that?”
A small gasp snatches Sampo’s attention from the crippled man to an old lady, who is pointing at something in an eye-catching woman’s hands, the second main character of tonight.
“Hey, nothing to worry about,” Serval Landau, the Head Engineer of the Silvermane Guards, laughs. Her golden hair gleams under the chandelier light as she flips it over her shoulder, revealing the silver stripes on her white suit. Unlike her cool (pun intended) brother, her smile is much brighter, filled with a confidence that attracts the room to her.
“You said you wanted to see my latest inventions, here it is!” The crowd around her parts, just enough for Sampo to see an apple-sized spherical, silver-plated, rather boring ball-thing mechanism.
“Well, I can’t show you the confidential stuff,” A few laughs rise at Serval’s comment, “But here’s a little toy that I made a few days ago.”
Sampo peers over the crowd’s shoulders to see the Landau princess’s hands move, and the ball-thing flashes blue as it cracks open by a slit, a faint humming noise filling the air.
“C’mon, touch it!” Serval Landau invites a woman, who gingerly touches it before her eyes widen dramatically in surprise.
“It’s warm!”
The Silvermane engineer grins, “It’s a fancy Silvermane-style hand warmer with the latest geomarrow technology with a seventy-two hour battery life!”
Everyone falls into unanimous silence, perhaps wondering why anyone would need seventy-two hour, before remembering their manners to praise Serval Landau’s genius quietly.
Serval Landau seems unaffected by the hesitant commendations and grins proudly, the ball-thing—now a seventy-twohour battery life handwarmer—clicking shut with another blue flash through the plating lines.
Among the murmurs of polite praising, Sampo’s silent and surprised staring seems very out of place.
“…Huh.”
He’ll admit, he might not be as genius as Serval Landau can be with technology or geomarrow, but he’s quite confident in his observational skills and memory (it is quite important to be able to remember things when you’re travelling planets and trying to find interesting stuff).
A memory helpfully appears in Sampo’s vision, one in a drastically different setting than right now, with filled darkness and monsters.
Of course, it could all be the best and hilarious coincidence, but…
The flash of blue, the plating style, the sound…is awfully similar to Blackmane’s gauntlet, isn’t it?
Now that anyone thinks of it…Sampo’s mind goes into storytelling mode, as he turns to look back at Gepard Landau, currently free from any awkward greetings. The man sits in his wheelchair, alone near the dessert table, a brooding aura around him. He seems to be quite lonely, stock still with those blonde hair covering over his eyes, a very different image than the snapshots of what Sampo usually sees during his Silvermane times.
He can almost relate. After all, no one can handle the crushing disappointment of dropping out on the brink of success so easily, right? Sampo can only imagine how much worse it would be for Gepard Landau, the valiant successor of an old family who was meant to protect Belobog with his life.
Man, what a depression moment for him, right?
At this moment, as if sensing Sampo’s observant stare, Gepard Landau’s head lifts to meet his eyes. The soft light finally reaches the man’s eyes, lighting them up to a brilliant blue, yet devoid of any warmth.
It only took one instant for Sampo to see through the impassive eyes.
A silent fire, burning deep within the blue orbs. No one else seems to notice it, but for Sampo, it might as well as burn him alive.
Intense, resolute, and certainly not something that should be seen (to be fair, it’s just Sampo’s great observation skills) in someone who just had themselves crushed (perhaps literally?) out of a bright future they were preparing with their whole life.
…Huh.
Sampo slips back into the crowd, just in time to prevent Gepard from recognizing him further or to see the grin rising on his own face.
Now, now… Sampo puts on a dazzling smile as he approaches an old lady, the one who touched Serval Landau’s Silvermane handwarmer. Let’s not hurry to conclusions.
Sampo, like every other guest in the room, greets politely—maybe just a bit more dramatic than the rest—the elderly face, with a very different thought in his mind.
When did Gepard Landau dropped out from the Silvermane Guards again?
(Gepard before he sees a suspiciously familiar figure: My legs are getting numb again…)