So they went, Tilo ahead, Nemo no more than three feet behind. On occasions where the path was wide enough, Tilo slowed his pace, matching Nemo’s, until they were side by side. 

Nemo reached out to touch a plant, blanching as Tilo swatted firmly at his shoulder. The contact knocked Nemo forward a bit, breathless.

“I wouldn’t do that - you might end up with fewer fingers than you had before.”

Nemo quickly retracted his hand and turned his attention to conversation, distracting himself from the dangers that Tilo made clear were everywhere.

“Do you mind if I ask a few questions? This place is unusual, to say the very least - besides, most of my experience lies in enchantment as opposed to, uh, plants and fortification magic.”

“Oh, right. I forgot you’ve never visited the manor before. Ah, I can’t tell you everything - I want to keep a few secrets for myself - but I believe that I can satisfy a bit of your curiosity.”

Nemo raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem cautious enough about sharing information on your reinforcements.” 

“Nemo, I consider myself an excellent judge of character, and I’m certain you only have the best of intentions. On that note, how did you know how to save me?” 

“You remember my family’s enchantery, right? A lot of the village kids come over to see the items we keep in stock. My father performs little shows with some of our items and sometimes magic carpet fibers fall. I know I normally just deliver for our enchantery, but sometimes dad wants me to take part in the shows, so he made me learn how to combat their effects. Heh, we have a lot of them. It’s kind of dangerous, now that I think about it.”

“So you’re well versed in ‘carpet rescue,’ are you?”

Nemo laughed. “I suppose so… This manor is yours, then?”

Tilo cocked his head. “Sort of, yes. It wasn’t originally mine, rather I inherited it from a friend of mine. He passed away due to unfortunate circumstances a few years ago. He wasn’t proficient in magic and had little interest in botany, so the atrium was added on a personal whim, and a majority of the magical enhancements are ones I added myself.”

Tilo paused. “Since you’ve never visited before, can I show you something?”

“May I ask what?”

“We don’t have to walk too far, we’re coming up on it right now.”

They turned the corner, a small circular courtyard coming into view. Tilo dashed towards a bench coated in ivy, pulling a trowel from one of the dozens of pockets in his coat. He pushed the seat out of the courtyard, his coat brushing away some of the dirt behind his path, revealing a small circle with only three symbols seated triangularly inside. When the entirety of the circle could be seen, the remaining dirt that had piled on top was brushed away.

Using the trowel, Tilo stabbed the circle’s center. It inserted itself perfectly within, as though there was no ground beneath to slow its path.

“I don’t get the chance to do this often, so this might not work.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I don’t think so. Then again-” 

Before Nemo could speak, Tilo twisted the trowel, whispering something. The circle lit up, the ground rumbling tremorously. Tilo’s eyes lit up. “I haven’t exactly tested it since it was fixed.”

He stood up, pushing Nemo over closer towards the circle. Nemo himself, caught in confusion, couldn’t oppose the immovable force that Tilo had become. When Nemo realized what was happening, he began to dig his heels into the ground, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else. Unfortunately for him, Tilo’s surprising strength was unbeatable.

 Tilo momentarily distracted him through a quick interjection. “You’ll want to sit. This thing moves quickly and I’d rather you didn’t fall.”

“So, what I’m getting from this is that I should be worried.”

“Not at all. You don’t get motion sick, do you?”

“I take a boat to the mainland every week. If-”

Before the sentence could reach its conclusion, the ground below, or more specifically the courtyard they stood on, began to lift. It rose slowly at first, the jittering motion shaking off bits of gravel, giving way to the concrete beneath. The platform itself was etched similarly to the circle with the trowel, a circle which was now illuminated with a deep magenta. Then, without warning, it shot upward with such force that Nemo had no choice but to sit. Tilo looked upwards, somehow still standing, and raised his open hand, palm skyward, at the glass above. The atrium’s glass cover, divided into sheets sealed with lead, held a single circle panel directly above them. Beneath Tilo’s sleeves, something illuminated, the light crawling up his arm to his gloved fingers.

‘Vollos’

Tilo closed his hand.