Chapter 33: Book 2 Chapter 3 – Paternal Standards (Part 3)

I knew that something was off the moment Aclysia came in through the door.

To start with, Esther had arrived thirty minutes before she did. Aclysia getting halted by the teachers was not an uncommon situation, given who she was. Many of the teachers she had known since childhood and sometimes they wanted to chat. Further, the Anomalia Management teacher, Veliona, was quite the empathetic individual. When she felt someone needed a 1 on 1 talk, she gave it. The delay, therefore, did not give me pause in and of itself.

When Aclysia avoided my gaze upon entering, that was the clearest sign that I could have asked for. Like a bird seeking shelter, so too was the sideway glance of a lover a sign of storm or rain. I did not press her on it, neither did I comment. I greeted her like I normally would, offered her the share of pudding I had prepared in their absence, and waited patiently for her to present what was (or could be) the problem. Until then, we had our regular chatter about this and that.

It was after I had loaded the bowl into the dishwasher and returned to the table that Aclysia revealed what had her unnerved. An envelope, pulled from her shoulder bag, and placed in front of me. “An invitation from my honoured father.”

The preface was necessary, given that the envelope was the same kind of simple paper that I would expect to receive advertisement in. It wasn’t even addressed to anybody, every last segment left blank. ‘He could have just sent me a message on the Ashod,’ I thought and opened the unsealed envelope.

Inside I found two items. One was a folded letter, just a standard format page that looked like it had been taken out of a printer and re-used for a handwritten message. The other was a business card, showing on it the location of the headmaster’s office. Unlike everything else about the message, it was of incredibly high quality. It was made from plastic, with metal decorations around the edges and a chip embedded in one corner.

Unfolding the letter, I read the short message inside.

 

“To Karitas Desia,

 

I wish to discuss with you the nature of your relationship with my daughter, Aclysia. Please find me in my office during working hours (from 8 to 12 and from 13 to 18 o’clock during weekdays) or at my residence during the weekend at any reasonable hour. Show the business card to be given entrance.

 

I expect to see you within two weeks.

 

With regards,

 

Arustius Taurus.”

 

“Straight and to the point, I like it,” I said and handed the letter off to Esther. She had been keeping her eyes to herself, but her intrigue was clear either way. While she, and then Aclysia, read through it, I turned the card in my hands. ‘How do I transport this?’ I asked myself. Not since I had visited Earth, had I carried a purse on me. Everything around here was done via Ashod. I would have to tuck it into a folder to keep it unblemished. “Any tips on what I should expect?”

“My older sisters have been silent on the matter,” Aclysia reported with a sigh. “It appears to be some kind of interview for your fitness. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Don’t be.” I took her hand and gallantly kissed the ring finger. “It is proper for a father to take interest in his daughter’s partner. All that could be improper is the degree of control he wants to have over our relationship.” With a wink, I raised my head. “I don’t think this is his first rodeo. He’ll be reasonable.”

“I hope so,” Aclysia sighed.

“Should I accompany you during this?” Esther asked, changing the topic.

“No, I think this is a man-to-man conversation.” My tone was more certain than my choice of words let on. “If he wanted to meet all of us, he would have asked for all of us. This is specifically addressed to me.”

The lady of my love nodded and carefully put the letter back into the envelope. “Understood. You are the King of this Anomalia, my Karitas.”

“Indeed, I am,” I hummed and put an arm around her. Without comment, I rubbed her back. She turned her gaze towards me and I gave her a supportive smile. Disapproving family must have reminded her of her own. All I knew about them was that they were to blame for the scars on her back. That was plenty to deduce that they were horrible people.

Esther moved her chair a little closer. Eyes closed, she rested her head on my shoulder. I kept rubbing her side, and gave Aclysia’s hand an inviting tug. A moment later, her bubble butt found rest on the left side of my lap. Now I certainly felt like a King.

“When do you intend to answer my honoured father’s invitation?” Aclysia quietly inquired. Whether she wanted to maintain the quiet for Esther’s sake or due to the intimate proximity we now shared, I respected her choice of tone. Not that she needed any excuse at all for me to appreciate that reserved whisper caressing my ears.

I considered the question. Today was out, I had somewhere else to be in the evening. Tomorrow would be Sunday. Not an issue according to the letter and I would have time to be well rested. “Might as well get it done tomorrow,” I therefore decided.

“Your timeliness is appreciated.” Aclysia’s elegant little smile was worth the time taken out of my Sunday already. Those pretty pink lips of hers were deeply enticing. Alas, they were also not mine. Reserved, they were, the lips of a spouse, a promised, a beloved to be, yet still not mine to claim. That her father gave me an invitation was proof that we appeared serious to the rest of the world.

Longingly, the maidly student returned my gaze. Gentle arms embraced my neck, a hug born of mutual adoration. The borders set and agreed upon bound her by honour and prevented her from initiating what I denied myself. While a touch of our lips would have been inappropriate, hers on my scalp and mine on her neck was well within our reservations. A first kiss saved until the moment of true love was a first kiss imbued with meaning and so we stayed as we were.

Admittedly, I was making the lesser sacrifice.

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The whole affair left me excited. I neither had to resist the urge to masturbate nor indulge in it, as I had next to me a straight-laced woman who I could drag to the bedroom and reliably excite. It pleased me to no end, to have this woman of powerful character submit to me so eagerly in matters of passion.

Besides the letter, the time between their return and our shift at the Café Served was spent as usual. We talked, worked out, Aclysia cooked, and when I felt like it I checked the quality of the mattress. By that I meant that I observed how long it took for Esther’s outline to disappear after I pounded her into it. The length of our engagements varied wildly, anything between five and forty minutes. The regularity of them tilted endurance towards the latter. Also, I tended to employ alternative means whenever I knew I wouldn’t last long. Even when I overestimated myself, I did get Esther to climax. It was a matter of pride. When penetration failed, fingers would have to do.

Eventually we did go to work, had a regular shift, headed back, and went to sleep after another round of sex and a shower. In that order, by Esther’s demand.

And then came Sunday.

______________________________________________________________________

 

At the heart of Welldark’s campus was an octagonal building. Although following the general colour scheme of the university, a mixture of gothic and luxurious elements, it seemed all around humbler than what lay around it. Less gold and silver had been used in the construction. The wood of the doors and the stones of the walls had been allowed a degree of degradation from the weather, where the rest of the campus was kept in pristine condition through effort and magic. The windows were simple, crystal clear panes of glass held in wooden frames.

The exception to it all was the large stained-glass relief that decorated the front of the four-sided tower that extended far above the slanted roof. It depicted a splendid bull on a radiant background that gave it a sanctified appearance. Even though the university had continued to grow all around the first building, that tower was the highest of its kind. Tall enough for that bull to watch over all that lay beyond.

There was very little activity anywhere around me, including the building when I entered it. It had that particular smell that only old institutions of knowledge could produce. A mixture of leather, old wood, and the various chemicals used to scrub the floors. I passed humble classrooms that almost reminded me of my time at high school. The notable difference was the quality of the chairs. It appeared Welldark had always cared about the comfort of its students.

My steps echoed in the corridor. Somewhere in the distance, I heard someone pushing a cart. Cleaning personnel, most likely. I checked my shoes to make sure I wasn’t dragging any dirt onto the meticulously cleaned, dark grey slabs. Not anymore than was reasonable, by my estimation.

The structure of the building was straightforward. Each of the main entrances along the cardinal directions had broad corridors that went simply ahead. Ignoring the various forks eventually brought me to where all four of these corridors intersected: a circular hall with a pillar at its centre. A pillar that was, on short inspection, revealed to be an elevator shaft. I pushed the button to call the elevator and inspected the hall as I waited.

It was a simple gathering area with tables and chairs for students to lounge, work, and converse. Although kept nice and tidy, I could not imagine it saw a lot of use these days. Each of the thirteen branches of the institution had their own hangouts, then there were the cafeterias, and, given the season, the sprawling green areas. This seemed to be nothing but a remnant of a time long passed. That, in itself, made it valuable to be maintained.

A loud ding notified me of the elevator’s arrival. Black-painted doors parted, retreating into the sides of the gothic pillar. I stepped inside. The hard carpet felt quite different compared to the stone. The quiet was bothering me a little bit. I liked activity around me. I distracted myself by wondering what the five greyed out buttons on the panel before me were. Rooms only the administration was supposed to access, perhaps? Maybe Taurus’ personal sex dungeon? If I had this much space, I would have at least two of those.

‘Not like I have a lot of choices here,’ I mused to myself. Two buttons were left and one of them was the floor I was currently on. I put my finger on the magical interface. The little square of stone yielded to my touch, then pushed back out, as any mundanely engineered button would. Smoothly, the doors closed and the entire elevator rose at a leisurely pace.

After ten seconds, it stopped. Another ding. With a whisper, the doors opened again. Now I found myself in a foyer.

The difference from the hall below was stark. Gone was the simple cleanliness of the old institution, replaced with a complex that had been retrofitted considerably to move with the times. The gothic designs here were in keeping with the splendour displayed by the newer buildings. Paintings, weapons, and ornaments hung from the walls, invoking a vague sense of symmetry. The floor was black marble, white veins running through it. By no doubt supernatural means, all of them came together underneath a wine-red, semi-circular desk at the far end of the room. Like a red sun radiating white mist.

Behind the desk were two women. One was working on a computer, wearing the kind of long-sleeved white blouse often associated with the secretary image. The other I knew already, a woman with long, silvery-white hair. She was of pale complexion, had emerald green eyes and ears that were notably pointy, without being much longer than those of a regular human. Standing behind the secretary, her maid outfit was on full display, from the frills that covered her petite breasts, over the corset that covered her midriff, down to the long skirt with the two frontal slits.

Surprisingly little separated Derilea’s looks from that of her daughter (specifically the one I was currently living with). Their difference in age was not as apparent as it should have been, given that it covered several hundred years. Between her species and the potent magic in her veins though (personal and Anomalia in origin), aging must have been a crawling if not completely halted process. Because of this Derilea looked like the world’s least wrinkled thirty-something.

Both the redheaded secretary and Derilea turned their eyes to me. “I will return in a moment,” the Queen of Taurus’ Anomalia announced and circled around the table. I had to keep myself from checking her out too much, as we walked towards each other. There was much to behold in how her thighs peeked out of her slit skirt with every measured step. The likeness to her daughter did extend to her bottom heavy figure.

One of my primary principles was to not covet another man’s woman (more exactly it was not to covet another person’s partner, but I had not yet found myself wanting someone who was engaged in a lesbian relationship). What made me weak in this instance was that Aclysia came so firmly after her mother that I could gleam what she would look like in a couple hundred years by watching Derilea. Keeping the inappropriate gazes to a minimum, I could tell that I was in for a very happy future.

“Hey there,” I greeted with a casual wave. Immediately, Derilea gave me a raised eyebrow. It appeared she still held some scepticism towards me. My natural expressiveness had rubbed her the wrong way during the introduction ceremony and I had not given her a chance to redeem myself. Clearing my throat, I reminded myself to behave in an approvable way and bowed my head respectfully, “I’m here on invitation of the headmaster, I hope I did not come at an inopportune time?”

“Only the usual pains of administration,” Derilea responded.

“Unruly programs not doing what they are supposed to?” I took an educated guess. I wanted to add a joke or three to that, but if I had learned anything during our last encounter, it was that the Queen of Welldark’s founder appreciated briefness and sincerity.

“Exactly,” she responded in a neutral tone. Much like moving into a dirty apartment after living on the street, her ambivalence was already a step up.

I raised my head. Derilea was mustering me, analysing me in a way only parents could muster potential suitors of their children. It felt a tiny bit like I was some cattle for sale, but it ran much deeper than that. “Will you require the card?” I asked, reaching for the blue shoulder bag Esther had lent me.

“That won’t be necessary. Come along.” Derilea led the way to one of the two corridors to the sides of the secretary’s desk. Step for step, I was brought into the headmaster’s domain. The deeper we got, the less it felt like a place of administrative business and more like a home. It had those various marks of being lived in, from the placement of objects that had been adjusted to purely personal preference to the many small doors that isolated private areas.

At one point, we came across a dark-haired, human woman holding a young child, around three years old. She gave Derilea a smiling nod, and the maid returned in kind. It occurred to me that she must have been another one of Taurus’ Anomalia members and, by extension, that the boy was Aclysia’s half-brother.

Human sensibilities were a bit weirded out at the prospect of a family still growing after several hundred years. Having spent a lot of my time in Hell, however, I didn't really have any of that left in me. Not that there had been much to start with.

I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from any attempts at banter. Whether Derilea was always this stuck-up or if I had to whittle away at her exterior over the years would remain to be seen. I hoped it was the latter. Having a steadily annoyed mother-in-law sounded like the kind of misery I wanted to spare myself.

In silence, we made our way up the flights of stairs. The surroundings narrowed, as we ascended from the main building into the tower. We walked all the way up. I couldn’t help but wonder why we weren’t using the elevator, but did not dare to ask.

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