Chapter 22: A Gargoyle Butler Named Marrok
Chapter 22: A Gargoyle Butler Named Marrok
If anyone had asked me what I expected to happen after Vaelory fainted in the middle of the grand hall, a gargoyle picking her up like fine china would not have made the list. But that was exactly what happened.
Zorathys stepped forward, unbothered by the dramatic collapse. He gestured to the gargoyle—the same towering stone figure who had bowed earlier—and finally said, "This is Marrok. He’s the butler here."
I couldn’t deny it; the name suited him... even if I had no idea what it meant.
Marrok moved with a careful precision that did not match the roughness of his form. His wings shifted just enough to balance his center of gravity as he crouched. He slid an arm beneath Vaelory’s shoulders and another beneath her knees, lifting her as if she weighed no more than a feather.
Vaelory did not stir. Her head lolled dramatically against his shoulder. Her hair was a mess of blonde curls covering part of her face, and her lips were parted in the tragic pose of someone whose entire worldview had betrayed them.
Zorathys shifted his gaze to me. "Marrok will show you to your room," he said with a loud yawn.
"You’re sleepy already?" I asked him.
He stared at me with half-closed eyelids. "I’m always sleepy, Firefly. If you need anything, ask Marrok. He knows everything around here."
"What about you?" I asked.
"I’ll be in my chambers, obviously," he said with an eye roll.
I glared at him, but he didn’t even care.
Zorathys stepped back. His form flickered, edges blurring. "I’ll see you at dinner, Firefly."
Then he vanished—as though he had simply stepped behind a curtain of air and the world swallowed him whole.
I blinked at the empty space he’d occupied.
Then at Marrok.
Then at Vaelory’s unconscious form dangling in his arms.
Marrok turned his head to me, wings folding neatly behind him. "Your Highness," he said, "if you will follow me?"
Before I could respond, he lifted one hand.
A dozen echoes responded.
Small gargoyles—half his height and nothing like him in build or refinement—fluttered in from unseen corners. Their stone bodies were rounder, their wings slightly too big for their frames, giving them a bobbing, almost birdlike flight. They hovered around my luggage, each picking up a box or bag easily, as if handling feathers rather than belongings.
My jaw dropped.
I had never seen luggage carried by airborne stone creatures. Not even in Aelthryn did we have anything like this.
Marrok noticed my shock. "Do not be alarmed," he said calmly. "They are assistant gargoyles. They will ensure your belongings reach your room promptly."
One of the smaller gargoyles tried to lift a particularly large box. It wobbled mid-air, wings flapping with fierce determination, and managed to stabilize itself with a triumphant squeak before zooming upward after the others.
I swallowed hard. "That’s... efficient."
Marrok inclined his head. "Shall we?"
I nodded.
He led the way up the sweeping circular staircase. His steps were silent despite his weight. Mine echoed faintly on the marble. Vaelory’s body remained limp in his arms, her head occasionally bouncing slightly with each step—though Marrok adjusted his hold each time with careful, calculated control.
As we climbed higher, I noticed more details I had missed before. Soft lanterns embedded in the walls glowed with warm red-gold light. The banister was carved with swirling tendrils that reminded me of smoke curling in a breeze. The air grew cooler, smelling faintly of stone, lavender, and something else—something rich and warm I couldn’t place.
We reached a long hallway lined with tall archways. The ceilings rose higher here, the tapestries thicker, the colors deeper.
Marrok stopped before a double door painted in deep midnight blue trimmed with muted gold.
"This is your room, Your Highness."
He used a key—carved stone with flowing lines—to unlock the door. It opened with a soft inhale, like the room itself was welcoming me.
I stepped inside.
And holy chicken... the bedroom was stunning.
It wasn’t extravagant or overbearing like the one in Aelthryn. This was different.
Soft carpets covered the floor—thick, plush, in a muted shade of teal that matched the curtains framing the tall windows. The walls were painted in a gentle blend of soft blues and lavender, with tiny sparkles embedded in the paint like crushed stars.
In the center stood a wide bed draped with silken sheets in pale sea-green. The canopy above was woven from translucent fabric embroidered with delicate golden threads forming constellations. Pillows of varying sizes and hues—cream, blue, gold—were neatly arranged, waiting.
A low table near the window held a crystal vase filled with fragrant dark-red flowers. A writing desk stood nearby, polished until it gleamed. A shelf of books rested against one wall—stories and histories and perhaps spellbooks, all neatly arranged.
And the wardrobe...
It was stunning. Dark polished wood with swirling carvings and softly glowing runes along the edges. The handles were shaped like curling vines, smooth and cool to the touch.
The room felt warm and peaceful in a way that made me feel almost... safe.
"Do you like it?" Marrok spoke up.
The little gargoyles were already inside, buzzing around the room with efficient choreography. One opened the wardrobe. Another placed folded clothes inside. A third hung up dresses. They moved quickly but carefully, handling everything with delicate precision.
Marrok, standing tall and statuesque near the door, looked oddly proud.
I smiled. "I do. Thank you."
A subtle glow flickered in Marrok’s stone-carved eyes. "I’m glad you do. His—" Then he stopped and shook his head. "I’m glad you like it."
I wondered what he’d been about to say but decided not to think too much about it.
I hesitated before speaking again. "Um... what about Vaelory?"
"She will be taken to her own room." His voice remained calm. "She fainted from shock. Most humans die when they see me, but she only fainted. A short rest will help."
I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear the word die for the sake of my sanity.
I exhaled a laugh. "Figures."
Marrok tilted his head slightly. "May I ask, Your Highness... you did not react extremely when you saw me."
I blinked.
"Because there was no need to react so. You’re just the first demon I’ve seen. I’m sure there will be many more—and worse-looking ones too," I told him.
"Ah... that is true. You have spoken like the wife of our Lord."
I’m not his wife yet.
We stood there for a moment—me surrounded by fluttering gargoyles, him holding an unconscious Vaelory in his arms—and I realized the demon realm was going to be nothing like what I had imagined.
Marrok dipped his head once more. "Some maids will be by shortly to ensure you have everything you need. Your assistant will join you as well."
"Right," I said automatically. I didn’t know why I needed an assistant. I didn’t even ask, because at that point, the bed was calling out to me.