[center][hr][hr][h2][color=1a7b30]M[/color]anfred [color=1a7b30]H[/color]ohenfelter von [color=1a7b30]M[/color]eckelin-[color=1a7b30]T[/color]handau[/h2][hr][hr][/center]
She was not the woman he loved.

And that was a problem.

On the surface, Manfred was smiling, for it was Dorothea Hohnstein's birthday and he was her beloved. It was an impeccable performance - Manfred had been an actor for much of his life - yet, that was all that it was. In another plane of reality, he knew that the real Dory - [i]his[/i] Dory - was alone and afraid and bereaved, blaming herself for his death. In truth, he had not died. He had been stolen, by this... [i]bastardization[/i] of his dearest, and substituted for the headless body of the Manfred who had died in this reality. To think of it! His heart burned with rage. It howled for justice for Dorothea, left broken and alone and wondering how she had gone wrong when, in truth, she had not! Certain that nobody was watching, he clenched and unclenched his fists in ice-cold silence and took some of his drink.

The first few minutes had been a blur. He might not have even known had not those around him expressed their shock and joy at his seeming 'resurrection'. gradually, however, Manfred had begun to notice other things - little things - that were slightly different: for one, there was no Eun-ji. She had been called back to distant Tan-Keoul at the behest of the Lotus. Yalen and Jocasta were engaged and the tethered sorceress a far more confident person than he remembered. Niallus was noticeably stronger, and Evander less of a nationalist. Small matters, to be sure, but they had confirmed his suspicions.

Somehow, the Manfred of this realm had failed Dorothea: this other him and another her. She had gone wrong and become a thing of evil. He drank some more, but only sipped, lest he lose control of himself. When people called on him to join int he celebrations, he merrily did so. There was no magic required for this illusion, merely a lifetime spent within the pit of snakes that was Kerreman high society. 

It was that bastard crown, he decided. It was with her every waking moment, save when she bathed or undertook the... most strenuous of activities. Somehow, it was the source of her unholy powers. It was... magic such as that yasoi witch, Ismet, had called upon, and it controlled her utterly or soon would. Whatever it then did with her would unleash only evil on this world and perhaps on others - on his.

There was a part of him that longed to confess what he knew - not to the witch, for she was surely lost to that black item, even if she did not yet know it - but to... Marceline, perhaps? His precious sister and closest friend. Then, maybe to Jocasta, from there, or even make a devil's bargain with this realm's Ismet? He could return to where he belonged. He could live and love again. Yet, he knew it could not be so, for Manfred Hohenfelter von meckelin-Thandau was a man of duty. He had never been the strongest, nor the wealthiest, nor the quickest to learn, but he was a man of duty.

Under the guise of studying for his classes, he had spent hours poring over what scant resources the Grand Library contained on demons, demonic items, and dark magic that weren't the discreditable ravings of halfwits, drunkards, and snake-oil salesmen. Already, he had begun to hatch a plan. It would require all that he had, and patience, and a meticulous, unswerving attention to detail. 

Manfred would cultivate within himself a ruthless strength and resolve. On the morrow, he would visit those to whom he had allied, and he would sell himself into their service in exchange for the raw power that he had always lacked. Then, he would better himself, through relentless work and study. Finally, he would strike and, hopefully, when it was all finished, he would find his way back. [color=1a7b30][i]To you, my Schmetterling.[/i][/color] His eyes hovered over the false Dorothea for a moment, and he flashed a quick smile when she met them. [color=1a7b30][i]To the real you, somehow, I promise.[/i][/color]

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