"You're already dead?" Ruger asked.
The boy smiled and nodded.
"I died a long time ago. Among the nobles, they call it passing on. Old Izel knew too, but then he forgot." The boy seemed rather helpless. "I don't like how he is now. When he was young, he was my father's closest friend, but he couldn't keep up with my father. He had very little talent. Only with my father's help did he reach the level he eventually attained and gain a few more years of life. By the time I was born, he had become this Ancient Castle's butler, here to care for me—a born weakling who couldn't touch supernatural power..."
Ruger listened in silence without interrupting. The young man seemed eager to unburden himself.
Knock, knock, knock!
A knock sounded at the door, its steady, unchanging rhythm revealing who had come.
"Young master, I've brought dinner to your room."
The old butler's voice outside the door made Ruger tense for a moment, but the boy's calm expression beside him put him at ease again. He simply moved the bed back into place, then went to open the door.
The boy followed at his side.
"Young master, please keep your spirits up and enjoy your dinner."
The old butler slowly wheeled in the familiar dining cart.
"He used to say that all the time too. Father said he was getting old and wasn't as amusing as he used to be. But he only looked old, really. My father was the older one. Father said that on their adventures in the past, Izel was a lively fellow who would sing at the top of his lungs when they rested. He would even let out foul-smelling farts right in Father's face. Sometimes his flighty nature would get them into trouble,