After Icarus put his mask back on, Maarschalk's takeover had dissipated; again, this had occurred without him being aware that he had been in this phase up until now. It was likely that the board-game that he played with Icarus had calmed his core down; without his notice -- clearly unknown whether this was the sign of a veteran soldier; or a boy who was playing with fire he could not control.
His dull gaze began to wander across the room; scanning for anything interesting -- wondering whether or not Icarus would drink tea in this room, in his lonesome. Maarschalk didn't focus his attention on Icarus whilst he spoke, he rather stared off into the distance; whilst his fingers slipped down his coat to grab his cig.
Icarus
“You're in no position to pity me.“
Immediately the eyebrow of the gentle giant arched itself. Weren't it for the lit cigarette resting between his lips he'd have given him some lip in return. What was more fascinating was that Icarus seemingly could read his emotion at a whim, and find out the complexity of it at that. Similar to what Maarschalk could do, but only at a much higher level. Knowing when someone is angry, or happy is a child's trick -- figuring out emotions requires a high level of life experience. Perhaps Icarus was more mature than what seemed; perhaps the reason why he wore the mask was because he is baby-faced. Icarus, amidst the chess match begun to explain the fine intricacies of the job he had in mind for Maarschalk. What the ins and outs were;
By accepting the job he had given him, Icarus could communicate to Maarschalk at any given moment; no boundaries could stop him from doing so.
Something about this job seemed off; was Maarschalk treated as a pawn in the grand scheme of things? He wasn't amused by the idea that he was a pawn. The feeling of relative importance would be significant enough for him to accept this job. However - since he had presented himself, in a face - to - face meetup, it was more convincing. He endangered himself by meeting up with the tall man in this fashion -- was this enough to convince him to join his cause.
Maarschalk
“Why should I go for Grimoire instead of Phantom?“
Icarus
“They operate in the spotlight.“
“We operate in the dark ...“
“... Much like you do“
Icarus
“You're left with a choice.“
“Blue or red.“
Maarschalk
“I see. Hm, fuck it. I choose Grimoire.“
Upon accepting the job, Maarschalk sensed a sense of relief from Icarus -- perhaps he was unsure whether or not the tall figure would accept or not. After taking off his mask once more, he explained that the mask now belonged to the tall figure. Should he ever find himself in a situation where using it would hide his identity in a crucial manner during his activities, he should use it. At least, that's what Icarus recommended.
What came with the mask was a vial -- supposed to work like an enhancement buff that worked permanently.
Although Maarschalk was instructed to drink it; he was wary. Icarus explained that he had gone through some troubles acquiring the vial -- and that Maarschalk should drink it, in order to prove his trust.
Thus, he drunk it, and felt the aura points in his body open up, he felt like he was gushing with energy.
The game of chess was over.
The vial wasn't poisoned, neither was Maarschalk under an effect of a powerful hypnotic spell; trust had been established between the two individuals. After Maarschalk drunk the potion, he felt a deep high over encumber him; similar to an LSD trip. He stared around the room, without a gaze in his eyes - as vague as that was. Icarus scoffed slightly, at the sight of the tall warrior who was now tripping. Icarus standing up didn't cause a reaction - he casted the spell that would allow him to talk to Maarschalk at any given moment.
With that done, the dark minister had disappeared into thin air.
As had the room that Maarschalk was in. He blinked, and the world seemed to have teleport him away,. From a dark obsidian room to the nature, where he was laying in tall grass. Probably caused by the high he felt from the potion. His head faced the sky, it had become night within a moment's notice. The shiny stars were distracting him, but - slowly it had been creeping up to him.
The realization that he had become a Grimoire spy; it didn't dawn on him quietly. Perhaps his ambition to become relevant had led him to a path that was too dark for him to follow.
Who is to say that it is a dark path to follow. Evil is a concept perceived by the eye of the beholder.
The philosophical issues that begun to trouble his mind seemed to take the edge of the high away. Sobering him up quite quickly. Getting up was difficult, as his muscles felt incredibly sore.
He had been wandering for a long time to end up here. Either that, or he had been in a fight and got hit in a lot of places. Either way, he had experienced a black out; unknown what had happened after meeting Icarus and arriving here.
His next objective was to go to home.
To go back to Lamia Scale and prove his worth.