"What a backwater town..."
That was the only opinion the figure could give as she surveyed the city of Kuoh down below her. Had anybody seen her, they would have mistaken her for a bird, or most likely a crow, given the feathered, ebony black wings that rested behind her shoulders. She was perhaps the embodiment of a cold beauty, with a beautiful face that resembled near perfection, her luscious pink lips set into a scowl of disdain. Her figure was slender, her skin without blemish nor stain, and her figure a finely-shaped hourglass. Her attire was little more than black leather, straps moving in various directions with spikes at the shoulders and at the heel. Her posture was set into lazy boredom, legs crossed over one another with a hand cupping her cheek, staring down at the town with disinterest. Her violet eyes gazed at it with apathy while her silky black hair flowed through the breezes that past by her.
She just couldn't understand why she was sent here. She didn't question her orders, as they came directly from her superior, the person she loved and admired more than anything else in the world. That being said, she still didn't quite understand why she was here, but she never questioned it. Kuoh was a city of little interest to her, and why should it? It was nothing more than a city of lazy pathetic lower beings, though she did receive a few letters from her friend, Kalawarner, that there was some excitement to be had, though the context of such letters had only made her roll her eyes when it involved seducing younger men than herself... which was saying a whole lot, given how old she was. Heck, just about almost all of them were nearly a century old! But, getting back on topic, her orders were to simply observe someone in the city. She was given a picture of the person that had suddenly interested her superior, but she would receive the details from Dohnaseek, another of her ilk tasked with watching over the town.
With that said, caution was advised. Backwater town it may be, it was still the territory of both the Pillars of Gremory and Sitri, and given that, she dared not want to imagine what would happen if they violated the peace here. If they had, a fate worse than death was sure to be upon them, and death was not exactly high on her priorities. She sighed to herself as she began to fly to where her friends were, stationed at a small rundown church at the outskirts of the city. As she did so, she pulled out a small paper from out of her cleavage, little more than a small photograph. Her target was printed on it, a boy with spiky red hair and eyes with a goofy smile on his face. Raynare gave an eye roll at the face of the person she was asked to investigate. They didn't look even the slightest bit interesting, hell he was even duller than she was expecting.
"I'll never understand what Azazel-sama sees in pathetic humans like this."
Raynare held little interest over humans. In fact, there was a great disdain for them in her heart. Even though God had made them in His image, they had done nothing to deserve the love, respect, admiration, and recognition from Him. No, all they did was ruin themselves. One need not look any further than history. How many civilizations fell at the hands of their own folly? How many kingdoms fell at their own foolish actions? How many kings were slain because of their incompetence? How many years have passed since humanity had ever, truly, come to realize their mistakes and break free from this wretched path of theirs? The fallen angel held them in so little regard that, in a small part of her, she greatly enjoyed their suffering. There was also another part of her that resented them. He believed that humans were worth attention, but why? What was so great about them? Why would they have to watch over such pathetic beings? They were so much greater… higher beings!
Raynare hated humans. Simple as that.
She gave one last look at the picture of her target, then tucked it away in her cleavage. As much as she hated it, Azazel had given her orders. Unless orders changed, she would observe him. Though she wished she was instead given orders to kill him once she's gotten she needs out of him, whatever it was.
Now, came the question...how to approach him?
"Ooof!" Haru grunted, setting down the last of the boxes on the floor. He gave a sigh of relief, and fell flat on his butt, wiping the sweat off of his brow. "Finally… seriously, how much crap did we stockpile in here?!" He gave a look around the storage room. When he got inside, the damn place was littered with cardboard boxes haphazardly, with even the slightest mishap meaning a tumbling avalanche of cardboard boxes filled with crap. Now, however, after several hours, everything was neatly organized and placed properly, right where they should be. Some were still left out, while the rest were tucked away in the cupboards neatly, and in the small spaces in between shelves and the walls. Haru then gave a look at himself, and cringed in disgust, as some of his clothes had gotten dirty with either dust or dirt and just a bit of everything else. "Ugh, man… and this is my favorite shirt, too." He gave himself a brief dust-off before giving a quick look around the storage room.
A smile of pride filled his face. "Not bad, if I do say so myself," he said, nodding. However, he then noticed that there was a small box sticking out on the top shelf near the door. Unlike the other boxes, this one wasn't cardboard. It seemed to be metallic, almost black. "What's that?" Curious, he walked over and pulled the box out from the shelf. The box was actually a trunk, evident by the handle, though it was certainly odd, given the gold trims. "The heck is this thing?" He had never seen this before...and it looked pretty different from the other cases he's seen. Maybe it was a custom-made one? He gave the case a brief examination, and found a lock. It was a weird lock, too. It had five dials, each with strange letters, and to the left was a small button, likely to input the code. Haru frowned. Who in the world would make a lock like this?
Wait… isn't this Greek?
Haru looked closer. As he suspected, the strange marks were actually the Greek alphabet. Well, that was one way to keep whatever was inside safe. Who even knew Greek in this day and age? Well… except maybe him and his mom. For some strange reason, his grandmother had insisted (read: demanded) that he learn not only Greek, but also Sanskrit, some of the oldest languages next to whatever gibberish the Mayans spoke. Looking more closely, he also found writing above the lock. "Geez, Sanskrit too?" he muttered. "Guess that youkai's lessons are worth something. Let's see..."
He blinked.
"... Monty Python? The heck?"
What was it even referring to? He knew the comical movies somewhat, but what in the hell did that have to do with anything? "Going by that there's five dials… maybe a title from one of the films?" Haru tilted his head, deep in thought. Honestly, what was he even doing? He could be in his room playing his eroge games rather than check this thing out… yet something inside of it told him otherwise. That he should investigate it. He didn't understand why he felt that way. He just did. Like it was… instinctual. "Five letters… five letters..."
Then, a thought came to him. He gave a shrug, thinking it wouldn't hurt if he got it wrong and possibly call it quits if it was just a one-try thing, and spun the dials.
άγ-ιο-πο-τή-ρ-ιο
He gave a brief sigh. "Okay… let's see if this works," he muttered, and pushed the button. A click was heard, and his eyes widened. "Your kidding… that actually worked?" He gave a stare of disbelief. The use of Sanskrit was certainly ingenious, as was writing the letters in Greek… though he did question why in the hell the answer was directly from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail." Maybe the owner had a fascination about it or something? He gave another shrug. Oh well, not that it actually mattered. It was time to see what was inside this trunk.
He popped the lid open, and found himself staring. As soon as he opened the trunk, he found several photographs taped to the top. Each photo had different people, two of which he recognized. The most prominent of the pictures was the one directly in the center. It showed two people, probably a couple going by the fact that the woman was holding a baby in her arms. The man had messy red hair, unkempt with his bangs nearly covering his rich brown eyes, and a warm smile on his face. Beside him was a woman with black hair that fell down past the shoulders, and bearing wonderful vibrant green eyes, staring down at the infant in her eyes with a loving gaze. Her face was instantly familiar to him. "That's...grandma," he realized, breathing in amazement. "Then, the guy with the red hair is gramps… I always wondered what he looked like. Now that I think about it, Mom doesn't have any photos of Ojii-san."
That was an oddity that confused him much through his early years as a child. Most kids have pictures of their grandparents, Shidou being no exception. However… His mother didn't have a single photo of his grandfather. He'd always questioned it, and his mother always told him that there were simply no pictures that she could find. She did describe him from the pictures his youkai of a grandmother had, though, yet none could do justice the worn out, yet happy visage that was the man in the photograph. His gaze was then directed at the contents of the trunk.
Junk.
Really, that's the best he could describe it. Pieces of junk. Old junk would be a better description. There were several old objects scattered inside, some of them looking to be incredibly ancient. Some looked like old charms of pieces of wood. Others looked like pieces of weapons or jewelry. Buried beneath it, however, he caught sight of something colored brilliant gold. Curious, he gently shifted the objects away so that he could get a better look at it, quick to realize that the objects in the trunk must have belonged to his grandfather. He then gently pulled the golden item that caught his attention out from the trunk. Once he did, his eyes widened in amazement. "Whoa..."
It was a golden scabbard, inscribed with blue lines near the hilt, and around the edges, ending at the tip of the sheathe. Unlike the majority of the objects in the trunk, the scabbard showed no damage whatsoever. No rust, no scrapes, not even a dent. It was as if it was a relic untouched by time. Even as he held it, he felt how smooth, how wonderful it felt.
"Man… Ojii-san must have been a helluva architect nut," Haru wondered to himself. It was the only logical conclusion he could come up with, given how old everything seemed. His grandfather must have traveled the world, going from archeological sights to old temples to ruined castles and whatnot, retrieving relics of the past. "Damn, this thing looks brand freaking new… I wonder where he got it?" He then gently set the scabbard down, and looked at the old pieces of junk inside the trunk. "What else you got in here, old man?"
As he continued to shift through his grandfather's trunk, he had failed to notice at all, even during his cleaning, the strange white markings sprawled on the floor.