"Mono/Dialogue"
'Inner thoughts'
Narration
[Message/communication apparatus]
Date: 1090
Location: Terra
POV: Narrator
In the sanctified city of the Sankta, the Holy City of Laterano id an ancient basilica that oversees this prosperous nd under The Law’s divine will. A city that becomes the center of Terra-spanning belief and role model of a utopia. Laterano’s serenity and testament of influence made a title bequeathed to them as the finest, safest, and no less advanced in the entirety of Terra. Despite their limited territory compared to their expansive neighbors, this country could hold cim as one of the mightiest in the nd.
As decreed by their prowess and luck would have it, the Citizens of Laterano live in a truly sedated and calming environment. People do their everyday activities with a distinct ck of fear or apprehension. The Legionnaires and Auxiliaries are patrolling the street while guiding those who seek it, but even with their heavier arms, not a single soul feels unease.
What a truly peaceful and harmonious country, free from tomfoolery that often bordered crimes.
“Alright, everything is set!”
“Ok! Back up folks, on 3 alright!?”
“Yep, yep! So gather up and after this, we should be on our way to the café.”
“Man, I want the parfait, especially the banana one.”
“Have you tried that divine chocote sagna?”
“Oh yeah, that was delicious, I have no idea why the Siracusan hates them.”
“Eh, they have weird taste buds, end of story.”
“Ain’t that right?”
“Ok, ready to cheer right?!” The crowds lines up in front of a statue. Appears that these freshmen and sophomores are doing a little photo-shoot, just after css is done. Teachers and other students smiled seeing their cheerful expressions or rushed out of the premises before the local sweets stalls were sold out.
“Ok, with me! One!” Said the cameraman holding a long button.
““““One!”””
“Two!” Wall, that’s normal. Lateran often has penchants for antiques after all.
““““Two!””” Strangely enough, there is also another cameraman on the second floor…
“Three!” Then… it was certainly curious how the cable was winding at the statue’s feet…
““““Three!””” A rge booming sound could be heard from even outside of the academy.
That cable was not linked to a camera… That was linked to a bomb buried into the statue’s foundation and that was a detonator the one initiating the countdown had held, not a button. That explosion was equal to 150 lbs. of TNT but because of careful pnning and preparation, it was not lethal.
A statue was blown to high heaven when the countdown hit three, the perpetrators started ughing like watching fireworks and not even once thinking it was done by UXO…
Instead of panic, the locals go about their day like business as usual. But sure enough, one or two executors could be seen heading towards the point of the incident. That was nice to know, their capricious nature still warrants the officers responsible for
“Hey, want a geto?”
“Sure thing, that statue can wait.”
“So, which fvor do you want?”
“Hmm…. Cheese and bckcurrant or perhaps the simpler vanil and mint.”
“That’s a weird choice, but alright. Oh yeah, how many recipes do you have the st time you go vacay?”
“Still too little for my taste, the st vacation to Yan only get me 46 recipes…”
“By The Law, that’s low as hell.”
Ok, but not before stopping for some geto stalls and talking about sweets, I guess.
Such a jarring view would no doubt bewilder foreign visitors. Let alone the explosion, the very act of government apparatuses taking a detour for delicacy on what could be perceived as national falcy would nd them in hot water immediately if it were anywhere else.
Not here, and probably never will.
What a bizarre country. This is the very city where another talk between people of power is being held. Contrasting the hubbub of peace and willfulness of its citizens, an old Sankta man had just returned from the innermost depth that held the truth of utmost secrecy for the fabled nd. His brows creased in worry but also hope, thus he walked forth to his office.
Once he was about to take the st corner to the elevator, he met quite an intimidating presence. There towered a knight armed with an Originium cannon, their armor glistened with divinity and will of the Paradise on Terra. They appear to be waiting for him, and that’s a cause for concern enough. Their armor and equipment indicate that their station was anything but ordinary. The Old Man’s brows knitted in intrigue, and he approached the knight. They saluted him before conveying a greeting.
“Good evening, Your Holiness, Pope Yvangelista XI.”
“Good evening to you too, Apostolic Gun Knight Giovani, was there anything you wish to convey?”
“Indeed, I just came across a courier, but not any courier.” He shuts his mouth, and the man revealed to be The Pope of Laterano understands the Gun Knight’s attitude. He motioned him to follow. They walked wordlessly while admiring the architecture and history etched onto the hallowed halls of Lateran faith. Thousands of years of history have been recorded and signify the core tenets… or perhaps warning from times long gone.
When they finally arrived, the Gun Knight pulled out an envelope with a peculiar seal protecting its contents. Yvangelista knew whose it belonged to.
“Truly surprising, even after all these years… he still has it in him.”
“Indeed, he wasn’t one of the finest executors in the nd for nothing.” The Gun Knight is about to leave, but the Pope halts him. His brows had been knitted tighter when she read the envelope’s content, but instead of worry… there are palpable telltales of hope in his eyes.
“A moment please, I would rather have a second or a third opinion with me.” The Knight pauses with one of his hands on his chin. He thinks about whether it’s a good idea or not before he decides that suggesting it wouldn’t be a bad one.
“Should we summon all avaible high-ranking personnel?”
“Hmm… good idea, more heads are always better than one. Immanuel had never mentioned sophistry, so let us discuss it with a council.” As he was about to leave, he turned his head back. He spoke with an air of utter seriousness. Even through the hardened, steel-encased, helmet, Giovani’s expression could be told vividly as if he wasn’t obstructed. Yvangelista XI straightened his posture, appears that he found another worthy endeavor to be discussed.
“… Your Holiness…” The grip on his guardian cannon shimmered with the splendid reflection of dawn.
“Speak pinly, my friend.” The Pope’s antique but no less anarchic choice of revolver hummed in contrast.
To giant of their rights are staring down one another. The air rippled with anticipation, tension ran thick, and for one singur moment, the sound had fled the hallowed halls. Then this armored giant of a Sankta spoke softly, mustering utmost confidence.
“I propose that we have Banana and Chocote tart, as it was assured such a sublime delicacy has been quite the novelty these st few weeks.”
The Gun Knight’s tone was no different than someone being given a suicide mission. Let’s just say that this sweet-toothed nation often fought tooth and nail when deciding what to have as dessert (they still purchase everything, it is just that the novelty of dessert seems to be a tipping point of their culture).
“I think we should have vanil for once, we must remember to return down the basic after all.”
“Your Holiness, you’re courting war.”
“Then let it be so, I was no champion of Basilica’s Arm Wrestling Competition for nothing!”
“Hah! The nerve of ye. That was a fluke!”
“Nerve was it?! Then let it be the Exalted Sweet Council to decide who shall stand triumph.”
“Ah, I see, how cunning, trying to use my spell against me?!”
“No spell, Giovani, just pure girth.”
“So be it! I shall ensure you see the folly of denying the most precious of cocoa!”
“And I shall see to it that excess be not the right course of action!” Thus two old men rattled about the extent of their choice and reasoning, a debate that could provoke conflict between their respective believers.
Truly, it was nothing less than a pair of old men waffling about…
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No nation on Terra could truly cim complete supremacy like the Empire of Victoria does for the past 2 centuries. The nation was once on the brink of colpse under the thudding march Gaulish war machine is now standing as the richest titan on Terra with theoretically limitless industrial output to churn war machines left and right with more to spare.
These nds they had rooted into their legacy are mostly catastrophe-free, a nd where millions could be fed easily while other nations struggle for less. The old Empire of Gaul was the fuel to their rise in titanic might, comparable only to Yan or Ursus. Many had accepted that Victoria shall maintain its hegemony forever more. Yet the truth is oftentimes cruel.
They absorbed much of the defeated Gaul, yes, but now the country is just a shadow of its former self. Rampant corruption is nothing new, but a seed of internal disintegration to its most basic foundation has been growing steadily. Rumors of both Taran and Gaulish nationalists gathering under their elusive banner have been spreading amongst the masses. Dispute over Siesta with Columbia has been simmering beneath notice.
Victoria’s Grand Dukes are spending more time, manpower, and wealth on consolidating power bases than keeping the nation intact. Reports regarding syndicates being slowly annihited one by one left many befuddled. More than a few started accusing a certain someone of it, but there was no evidence and little logic. Whatever it might be, they are looking for a scapegoat.
Victorian Throne is still empty; the st one was hanged by popur rebellion. Galvanizing rumor or lionizing truth matters little, including who engineered it. This could be due to nobles' prolonged power struggles, workers having enough being pushed around with meager improvement, or a shadow war. Many are great theories worth debate but no factual, concrete, truth is avaible as an answer.
This country grows fat on the backs of all its territory, but social inequality in the accimed most civilized country is a stark reminder. The hunger for bor and opportunity is as thick as the industrial smoke that pgued their mobile or conventional cities. City blocks by city blocks had their own unique set of circumstances, one different from the other. There can be gangs, mafias, and even smugglers that make a living through its cracks.
Victoria's backbone was always its industrial output for both domestic and foreign needs. It also means that Victoria required a lot of consumer goods to sustain itself with enough leeway for foreign sales. Nowadays Columbia starts to catch up, but that’s a story for another time.
The industrial sector of the city relied, like most cities in terra do, heavily upon originium to feed their insatiable production capability. One would be hard-pressed to find a heavy industrial product that doesn’t contain Victorian materials. Their capital, Londinium, is flourishing indeed, but it comes at another much more heated issue… infected.
One of their brightest researchers was mocked for warning the Victorians of the impending Industrial Crisis due to Oripathy which has been showing symptoms of being true. With so much residue in both air and ground, the infection rate had been on the rise. It is no wonder that both infected and non-infected are getting anxious. If left unmitigated, the situation will only worsen Victoria’s stability.
Frankly speaking, it is a complete mess. The Grand Dukes always had a strong grip on power before the st king was even hanged in his backyard. The current climate usually centered around the 5 Grand Duchies, namely the Grand Duchy of Wellington, the Grand Duchy of Windermere, the Grand Duchy of Caster, the Grand Duchy of Stafford, and the Grand Duchy of Cavendish.
The Grand Duchy of Normandy had been more or less on the sideline to see how the situation developed, but rumors abound that they are gathering power through the shadow. There were also rumors that Gaulish reformist had been nurtured and coopted into their swelling ranks.
The Grand Duchy of Goddodin had been taking a much more passive stance, not wanting to further the complexity and rising tension between aristocrats. Their stance was seen as opportunistic and cowardly, but it is undeniable that a sense of bance can be supported by this stance of theirs.
They bickered endlessly… most of them anyway.
On the border close to Leithanien, there lies the mighty Windermere. With its current reigning Grand Duchess being none other than Amphelise Windermere. This woman dubbed as the ‘Kurfurst’s Archenemy’ is walking listlessly in one of her many halls. She promptly left for her study, her guest had just arrived.
Once there she sees a female Efia waiting for her. The woman wore a non-standardized uniform beneath her winter coat. She snapped back on her feet and saluted, Amphelise waved her off and offered her a handshake.
“Pardon my tardiness, Miss Aino, the nobles are always a difficult bunch.”
“Fret not, Your Excellency. I for one understand the sheer dissonance that pgued your realm.”
“Thank you for your understanding, please be seated while I prepare the tea. I insist.”
“Then I shall be remiss to decline, my gratitude for your hospitality.” The Grand Duchess readied the tea with practice. As luck would have it, she has stocked the authentic highnd blend. Amphelise thinks that it always suits her pate nicely, especially for its wilder scent that is usually frowned upon to be served on the many, many noble gatherings. She returned with the cups and teapot and pced them on the table. Aino lights up in surprise seeing what was served.
“Wild Walce? Quite a bold choice, something I can respect.”
“Just a guilty pleasure, one too many parties, and even the rarest and most prized leaves taste no different than wild grass.”
“That I can agree with, but I would be more partial.”
“Hmph, partial.” They have a nice little tea break with more biscuits and cakes. Depending on where they are, how fast or how slow one enjoys tea would be an indication of respect. Amphelise happens to be the type of person who often acts rashly, the fact that she isn’t proves the seriousness of the matter. Once done, the Grand Duchess of Windermere prompts her to start.
“The Grey Serpent… we had underestimated her.”
“… Hah…” Nursing a growing headache, the one-eyed feline's hopes were dashed spectacurly. She has known her to be someone who could influence the bance of power significantly… but she was not prepared to know she was someone who could flip it so effortlessly.
“What is Hector’s opinion?”
“His Lordship wished to convey that she is no threat to Victoria. Although it couldn’t be understated how someone like her only surfaced in this dire period.”
“Precisely, that woman’s skills are no slouch. The first time I read the content about that duel, I could not help but wonder where she came from. Nyx’s repertoire of connections and set of skills would have been ample enough and we should have found leads to pinpoint her nature. Yet years pass by and we are still in the dark.”
“Theories regarding her had been floating around the investigation team. Ranging from a runaway Sargonian Princess to a b rat.”
“Neither fits the bill, her popurity would have coaxed anyone responsible to try and cim her back. To this very day, no one did so unless we count delusional fools who think that she is that low to be brought into their folds.”
“Cavendish and Stafford.”
“Indeed… those two…” Their discussion continues beneath notice. A fact is certain, to step on the Serpent’s tail would be unwise.
“Report of rearmament had sent the nobles into a frenzy. This news from Kazdel had yet to be disseminated.”
“Then what would Old Hector shall do?”
“My Lord wishes to convey his total neutrality, Victoria would surely plunge into civil war soon enough if he were to act. He stresses that while it would not explode immediately, the fuse has been lit. We don’t know how far it goes.”
“Appreciated opinion… if we disregarded Rita Skamandros’ fame.”
“…” Aino bit back from denying her words carelessly. Amphelise has shown favor and leniency throughout this conversation, but she is still a Grand Duke of Victoria. Windermere’s military might could rival that of Wellington, and the tter has been known to be voraciously warlike.
“Her status is that of wild a card. It won’t do to cim neutrality with an unsupervised meddler. Her prowess is undeniable, her expertise robust, and all she would ever need to seize a parliament would be a willing supporter. Victoria could not accept meddlers, especially someone who excelled and blossomed under her guidance.” The Feline calmly sipped her tea but her eyes sharpened. She is like a predator prowling for a chance to strike. Aino understands the implicit meaning.
‘Do be warned that her freedom was never out of expectation nor sentimental feelings. Tread lightly.’ The Efia dipped a biscuit in her tea… and left it there, an act that was viewed with amusement. Amphelise could not help but wish for someone of her caliber, her life would be so much easier. She has ample military power, but skullduggery is… serviceable.
“I’m well aware Your Excellency. The Young Lady’s action does warrant concerns, but I shall once again affirm that she has only herself to rely upon. There is no County of Skamandros following her steps, only the name she had the misfortune to bear despite being so willful. Each fame she garnered was all hers and each folly she reaped was hers and hers alone.”
“… I suppose we could hash out the details ter. Please, do tell Hector that I would be thrilled to meet him when spring passes. Meeting a fellow sane person would be a nice change of pace.”
“Duly noted, Your Excellency.”
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An L.G.D’s officer had just parked her bike in her hideout. She prefers to keep some of her things hidden from prying eyes, because that’s a habit she developed due to certain someone. She uncsped her jacket and left on the bike, from there she took a quick stroll through the retively deserted walkways.
Her gaze is pointed towards the tallest building in the city, and she couldn’t hide her growing scowl of annoyance. But duty calls, and she is not the type to shirk such a responsibility.
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“Just when I was done… what does that old man want?” Ch’en said while tapping her feet angrily. She just returned from a routine investigation in the slum, and before she could even have her iced tea, her uncle summoned her. She is tired, she is stressed, and she is stuck with greenhorns so green she swore they smell like carefully cultivated bonsai trees that functioned through being looked at.
It made her miss her cssmates, especially the bubbly and energetic Vouivre. She took them for granted, and now without them, she feels like regressing a few steps back. All this talk about fondness, and yet she is not thrilled about being trained by Nyx again. The mere mention of the ashen-haired Pythia is enough to make her involuntarily wince instinctively. She doesn’t hold back just because she is the de facto heiress of Lungmen. If anything, her training becomes worse.
Ch’en remembered that one day she got shoved into the mud head first at 3 A.M. because she challenged the instructor, and Nyx's face was that of someone shamelessly enjoying her tailored curriculum. The blue-haired Lung would lie that the idea of not reporting Nyx to a disciplinary committee never crossed her mind, but she owe a lot to that reasonably insane and capable torturer who happens to be an exceptional teacher.
Such as when she does several interrogations. She needs to rough up some people, but with Nyx’s teaching of how to hurt while minimizing lethality, Ch’en manages to get more than just 1 or 2 songbirds to sing. The Pythia had also taught her how to navigate urban areas much better than her tutor did. That goes to show that a war veteran would beat a book smart in practicality.
The elevator stopped momentarily, prompting her to groan aloud. She was about to just take the stairs before more interruption came, but the person in front of her made that no longer an option.
“A-Aunt Fumizuki?” Her aunt entered the elevator and pressed the button that conveniently was the blue-haired Lung’s destination. Her aunt is dressed in a traditional Higashinese outfit for this occasion and yet Ch’en eyed her gloved hands instead. Her eyes twitched realizing that her sweet aunt had just returned from her usual stroll… across the downtown on a motorbike and may or may not be beating gangsters she happened to cross…
‘I need to tell Inspector Hoshiguma to make another roll call… God… my mind is just so tired…’
“Oh my, you look exhausted. I suppose I need to give that sve driver a strong-talking to~.” The Lung woman smiled seeing her niece. Ch’en shivered to see that smile, however, and decided that perhaps she just imagined it and left at that.
To be perfectly candid, she views her less as a retive and more like an actual blood retive despite their family… complicated situation.
“Still, how are you so far? You do not mind me tagging along don’t you sweetie?”
“W-Well, I- Ahem. I do not mind.”
“Wonderful and since you’re tired, I brought these just for you.” Fumizuki reached inside her coat to pull cans of soda. Ch’en’s eyes widened seeing her guilty pleasure drink being easily guessed by her.
“Come now, take your pick. I know you want it.”
“I-I don’t think that…”
“Aww… and I had gone all the way from home for this…” Before more teasing could occur, Ch’en decides to give up early and take the drink. Fumizuki is satisfied seeing her being less stubborn… perhaps it was a good idea to have Nyx train-
“Aunty, I don’t like that look on your face…” Her instinct bred of danger and her gaze narrowed at the darker-shade-of-red-haired Lung.
“Whatever does that mean, Ch’en~?” replying with a sing-a-song voice only made her niece roll her eyes. They waited with comfortable silence before the elevator finally reached their destination. That feeling is back again, Ch’en doesn’t know why but she feels like someone is watching her from the shadow. Fumizuki noticed her wariness but decided not to comment.
They soon meet the Magistrate of Lungmen, his expression is nothing less than an abject worry.
“You have arrived.”
“Yes, we do, dear.”
“What do you want, Uncle?”
“Well… for starter… what can you tell me about Nyx?”
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“What a frightening woman, wouldn’t you agree, Grimmacht?” Lieselotte reclined on her sofa, a smirk forming on her lips. Her sister groaned with a noise that would truly be unacceptable where they were in a public setting. The bck-haired Caprinae stops pying with her instrument and strides toward her sister.
“The matter in Kazdel was beyond even my prediction… You should have known that pnning-wise, you’re always better than me.” The Bck Empress sat on the side of her sister, her pale hand encased within her sister’s warmth. The White Empress had never seen her sister looking so disturbed, so she tried to press on.
“Coming from someone who orchestrated surgical strike on multiple hideouts of the Loyalists all over Leithanien doesn’t sound like much of a compliment.” She tried to uplift her mood, but that was moot. Grimmacht only grimaced after being reminded of what needed to be done to preserve this nation.
“I’m serious. My true and tested method of preventing or culling problems would always involve bdes being swung.”
“So am I. You need to realize that cruelty, as much as I disagree with it, is but one of many tools of statesmanship.” Grimmacht poured herself some tea, but the way she did it always irked her sister. Lieselotte would have preferred it more if she had taken it easy, but that had never been a choice for them after sitting on the throne.
“Not going to hedge the bet on your part? Or would you be waiting for the prime opportunity to save her?”
“Nothing, the matter in Kazimierz and Kazdel is none of our concern. We have our hands full of uprooting those delusional idiots. Just yesterday problematic news came from Urtica, the boy’s caretakers are trying to make him a symbol of resistance.”
“We had been through this, Sister. The boy's only crime was to survive and suffer. One branch at a time, those on the surface could be handily taken care of by the Voices.”
“You think other nations would not try getting a head start?”
“If by head start means that 3 armies worth of soldiers being dead, then by all means. I have no desire to make an enemy of someone who made the King of Vampire ugh jovially.”
“Our Eastern ally would not be so reticent with this development.”
“Lungmen have their circumstances and while that much is true, Lord Wei Yenwu won’t try to wrangle her. For that I’m assured, he was not that type of person… unless outside factor occurred.”
“He will try to make a move when the Grey Serpent has been sufficiently exhausted.” Grimmacht let go of her sister’s assuring grasp. She brought the tea on her lips but soon paused, her brows creased and knitted tightly. Swallowing a sigh, she decides to be candid with her.
“You know how I think right?”
“More than anyone.”
“There are no conceivable scenarios without resulting in severe casualties. She is a valuable ally, but it is my burden to assume the worst-case possibility. Others would have been downpying the sheer danger the Grey Serpent could muster, my worst estimate amounted to 2-3 mobile cities being caught in the crossfire if Nyx had abandoned every shred of principle… Who on Terra is she? I’m still coming up bnk.”
To say that the White Empress was surprised would be an understatement. Grimmacht had always tried to keep the military matter out of her sister’s concern, the fact that she confessed so readily is an indication of the danger Nyx represents. It takes one to know one, yes, but Lieselotte won’t have it.
“You should take it easy, stressing about what ifs would not do you any positive service. Besides, Cordelia has been cooperative with our endeavor. Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt else the very demon we fear shall manifest. Then as far as I could see, she would not risk conflict if she could help it… barring certain circumstances of course.”
“I envy you … you could always be so optimistic about life.” The bck-haired Caprinae sports a forlorn smile. Her sister softly caressed the back of her head, soothing her from the weight of choosing which would be the best method with the least fatalities within the least amount of timeframe.
“I become like this because I have you and keeping our people’s dream; our dream, alive. I had been burdening you with infamy to always look after us. I could never measure your decisiveness, so please… I will always follow you, every step of the way, sister. Do what you must but I hope you never forget that I would always stand by your side.”
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“A marvelous surprise, the Grey Serpent shows adaptability and tenacity beyond comprehension. She would have been a truly wondrous specimen if I ever id my hands on her.” The Confessarius said after reading the reports gained from his subordinates. Nyx had shown traits that would have been truly beneficial to his research, as she had slipped away.
That being said, the fact that not only did she defy The Duke of Crimson, the very pinnacle of vampiric blood arts, but she had grown stronger. The reports also show that while she has sentimentality that could be exploited, it is not preferable. From what she has shown, there was a prevalent theory that harming anyone close to her would only spell an agonizing distraction.
He is also left questioning just how quickly and effectively could she enhance herself. It would be thrilling and terrifying if there was no upper ceiling to her growth. In spite of the many negatives, the Confessarius couldn’t help but smile with potential in store for the future.
“No matter, it is time for me to attend the council.” Closing his notebook, he took his staff and ascended from this underground boratory. Numerous medical tools, both modern and arcane, are being dispyed for his family's perusal. There are also tanks filled with floating bodies encased by tempered gss.
He found his fellow cnsmen and women hard at work with research. Some of the more intellectually enthused individuals found little problem with subjecting experiments upon themselves while others gathered to note down all the happenings. He smiled again, he loved seeing them being so energetic.
“Truly unfortunate.” His amusement was palpable. That Pythia is probably the third most desirable item he ever wanted. What he would sacrifice for a chance to dissect the Grey Serpent… searching for what made her oh-so-special…
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“That would be the end of my report.” Theresis is holding council with his protégé, he is a blond-haired Sarkaz with an armored hand and a few floating orbs that act like drones. The man is fairly tall and well-built, but most interesting would be his rank and stature. He is none other than Manfred, the de facto Second-In-Command for the General.
“It is joyous news for our lost brethren to finally start their journeys home… This war of ours would be a foundation of a future for Sarkaz. To welcome them in open arms is our preferable option.” The General answered while his hands processed the documents on his desk. These documents include the most militarily sensitive information such as pns and troop movements to the very simple and often considered menial such as the report of a few houses with cracks.
“Then what about the subject of interest?” His fingers stopped. He heaved a tired sigh, before willing them to go back to work. The man seems to age a good few decades from that single sigh, but ultimately undeterred to achieve his dream.
“The Grey Serpent would be out of my hands now, she dispys little interest in meddling in the civil war. I hypothesize that she merely arrived upon an inopportune moment.” Theresis then snorted with a hint of amusement, a gesture that intrigued his protégé.
“Her belligerence and non-compliant nature truly gave the Sanguinarch a pause. I had yet to receive news or reports of him throwing a tantrum, but I shall caution you to not try to find him either.”
“Very well and what would be the Royal Court’s opinions?”
“The Nachzehrer King and The previous Matriarch of the Banshees were rumored to take an interest in her. Damazti had made contact and I doubt they would stay idle seeing someone interesting, or mysterious. The Lich King gave no reply as usual. Lastly, My Sister’s retainers would no doubt restrain her conduct, bringing Nyx into the whirlpool of death benefits no one.” He then rummaged something from his desk. He takes them out and shows a letter. Manfred’s eyes widened seeing the insignia on it.
“Even the Cyclops took notice?”
“Surprising, isn’t it? Do read for yourself. It was an enlightening piece, to be perfectly honest.” The blonde Sarkaz took it and proceeded to grasp its content. There is only a single line.
[Tread lightly, we fathom only a circle that revolves and stretches surpassing mere cognition.] Manfred is speechless. The passage itself was puzzling, but he could feel a tiny, brief, but undeniably hopeful if not terrified tone being etched inside each letter. He keeps reading them over and over, trying to ascertain that it is real.
The Cyclops were known to be very pessimistic, to put it gently, for the future of this world. One of theirs was a King of Sarkaz, but was soon assailed by horror and succumbed to despair. Ever since that, every Cyclops had left for the frigid Samifjord. Purpose unknown other than giving up to fate, at least that’s what common Sarkaz thinks.
The younger generation of Kazdelian even thought they were a myth, but here it is. A letter from their King for someone unreted to Kazdel. Or is it? Manfred decides to brush it aside, not out of underestimation but because it is a distant problem. He is more concerned with Cyclops’ support for Kazdel.
“… I would much prefer it if the Cyclops would lend us their aid.”
“Think nothing of it. They had foretold my doom, and if that’s the price for our freedom then do please cast me into hell. It changes nothing, the common Teekaz deserves better.” He rose from his seat and walked towards the window.
The sprawling capital is buried under snow, but he could see the common denizens milling about in frugal happiness. There are those rougher around the edges, but they too find it better to berate children or those who know no better than to stop pying while the snow is high. His eyes then darted to the massive furnace where Kazdel started.
‘Wouldn’t it be terrific… for just one more seat around the furnace?’
[END OF CHAPTER]
Author’s Note:
Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who… uhhhh…….
Anyway, here we see people start scheming in the back. Or something like that anyway.
Apparently, there are still ways to know about what happened, who would have thought huh? Ok but enough joking, I’ll be dialing down the violence a little. Before making it explode again.
Update as what I typed in the announcement.
Ciao
