"Mono/Dialogue"
'Inner thoughts'
Narration
[Message/communication apparatus]
Date: March 1091
Location: Kazimierz
POV: Narrator
An old bck-haired Kuranta said with gravitas and confidence. Standing almost a whole foot taller than the rest, his gaze bore the seriousness of a man who had seen hell. A massive scar runs across his face diagonally to complement his bearing.
He is wearing the trademark Campaign Knights armor and insignias but with gold accents and silver linings to form tasteful artwork on an otherwise fully functional war gear. He is surrounded by his fellow cadre along the rectangur table. Some of them are as old as he is, but a good chunk of the assembled people is closer to Margaret’s Nearl age.
This group is none other than those who supported a vision she had unconsciously formed beneath notice. Margaret would have been appalled and horrified if she knew what her motivations had fostered, but it is not entirely her fault. Kazimierz has been divided for too long, neither side is gaining the needed power base to topple the other.
And no, it was not just about K.G.C.C. and the Adeptus, it is deeper than that.
Nobles and Merchants, ' retionship has been dynamic for ages but there are those who cannot forget old grudges. One such grudge would be between Konstantyn Jagiello II’s loyalist and the Sobieski’ reformist which had ironically destroyed the both of them.
The te king has been reduced to a mere figurehead, and thus his te intervention in the war was deemed incompetence of an unforgivable level. Sobieski's ascension to being a hero was the nail in the coffin of his rule; an opinion that their rule should have ended when Nightzmora id waste on their nd.
This conflict was exploited by the merchants and their noble rivals who finally terminated the King’s position for good, and thus a new rift was formed between those who won the political grandstanding and those who were robbed of their supposedly righteous dues. This rift has been festering, straining, and flowing between rocks and hard pces. The 72’s war would have almost ignited the continuance of their war into a civil war, if not for Kiril’s Nearl deeds that sapped much of both factions’ influence.
With him being a husk of his former self, his sons either missing or becoming the private company’s p dog, extended families that were forced to go on the sidelines for their good, and his granddaughter unwittingly igniting these factions’ shimmering tension, Kazimierz is marching full speed ahead towards a total war with their brothers and sisters. Those privy to the truth had noticed the increase in arms sales, training, and bolstering of mercenaries.
“We shall now begin the meeting in light of the upcoming war.” The man’s finger points towards several locations on the map id on top of it. They watch with interest the many projected camps, supply depots, and even contact points with the underworld. These nobles uphold chivalry, but they would not shy away from skullduggery.
“We have Koltynz force moving in from the west, he should bring with him a fresh train of supplies. He did however ask for complete command of the western force.” His words elicited murmurs from the attendance, not long after, a young woman objected to his words.
“Never, I would not have that wicked man drag his dirty boots along my region. I have well-trained soldiers and they are fed more than enough for prolonged conflict, adding mercenaries into the mix won’t end well, Sir Zandrewcyk.”
“I support the Countess’s words, Koltynz had been getting way too comfortable to deal with those Bolivarian and Columbian. Who knows what manner of dogs and dregs he would bring to our camp? It is one thing if it's mercenaries of seasoned wars, but if it’s those Infected? Never.” A louder chorus of agreement rang after his words. The majority of those cheers came from the younger knights, and that soon enticed a chuckle from senior attendees in the room.
“Na?ve. If you think that wars could be fought with mere determination and empty words such as having well-trained forces or a belly full for the foreseeable future, then we would have long since installed a Pegasus back on the throne.”
“What is your point, Duke Nesvizhcy? We might have not seen wars but we know how costly it would be.”
“Indeed, I’m very impressed how much you could discern from a piece of paper. A udable degree of comprehension, if I might add.” His words stung the Countess’ supporters and drew a slew of ughter who knows better.
“That is plenty, Old Friend. There is no need for us to bicker amongst ourselves.” The De Facto leader of this group soon silenced both sides. They backed down and returned the discussion on track.
“While I understand your distaste, Countess Radzvanna, I would only consent to him taking command on a predetermined path. Rest assured, your authority on these so-called Knights Clubs would be retained.”
“Hmph, the sooner we got of this demeaning name the better.”
“Indeed, it was unbecoming for Kazimierz’s faithful to be branded as mere commodities. We have our pride and honor on the line. Unlike those gdiators dancing on the stages running away at the first sign of danger, we won’t have such a problem. What is a circus of clowns against a full-fledged army?” A chorus of affirmation and nods complimented one of the member’s reasoning.
“Regarding our Casus Belii… what should we do with the throne?”
“We had yet to find His Highness, thus the throne must be held in the regency. That is why we should turn the Nearl on our side. Worse come to worse, their Pegasus blood could replenish the dwindling bloodline.”
“I heard that our Radiant Knight was quite the headstrong young dy. Would she even agree to a communion? This is very problematic, she has knights personally pledging fealty to her and no one else.”
“That is not a problem. She is a good and obedient kid, she wouldn’t have the heart to do what is right. Such a quality is perfect when coupled with our willingness to dirty our hands. In exchange for obedience and social welfare for those she cared, like the good-natured dy that she is, we should have a clear hand in keeping her in check.”
“She is not a bright person in geopolitical matters, thus I see the merits of your proposal. However, I heard that her branch families could work as substitutes when a dire situation emerges. For example, that Narleka’s Young Lady.”
“Forget that girl, she is just a crippled half-breed who couldn’t harness the full potential of the Pegasus bloodline. My spies had reported that her therapy progressed slowly with strenuous complications, and there would be little use of her other than a hostage.”
“Not mentioning the blood has been diluted and could harm our legitimacy. I have little love for the Elder Races, but no one would deny that they are simply better at warfare if honed and wielded correctly.”
“If that proven unrealistic, we only need to wait until the Youngest Nearl to mature. According to our informants, she is a picture-perfect enterprising dy who has an interest in engineering; her future is bright as is.”
“She should not become a knight?”
“Preferably. Technological advancement could be reincorporated into how we dictate the New Kazimierzian rules.”
“Not discounting how additions and changes to our doctrine have been tied with how time keeps changing. Centuries ago we drew our battle line and had the casters and archers as skirmishers. Now we have disposable drones and modern vehicles to keep our forces at their best during transit. Maintaining a static battle line is no longer effective unless done in cornerstone regions.”
“Do we need to start contacting our extended family?”
“I think we should wait. She won’t be herself for the next 5 years at least.”
“We could try getting our affiliates to get close to her. That Corporate Lap Dog shouldn’t be able to do much about defenseless civilians.”
“That ‘Corporate Lap Dog’ you speak of is Sir M?ynar Nearl. Show the man some respect as a Hero that he was.”
“He is still just a middle manager, he shouldn’t be able to leverage too much influence on our decision in the Council.”
“Let’s not be hasty here, we confirmed the report on the Armorless Union splinter group that had failed to snatch Maria Nearl away. I’m ready to fight and die for this country, but I won’t accept death, remembered, and ridiculed as a child kidnapper for the rest of my life.”
“Correct, but when the war erupted, Margaret must choose where she would send her younger sister. She could not leave her be in Kawalerielki, and sending her abroad should be a death sentence.” They groaned hearing the many problems that must be addressed by this one family. They don’t hate the Nearl per se, it is just that their short but storied history has become both a blessing and a curse.
Their blood is worth the effort of turning them to their side, willingly or not. Margaret Nearl’s grace, kindness, and skills are just the perfect material to help her ascension to the throne. If they could find the missing Royal Blood, the future is all but guaranteed. Margaret is known to be self-sacrificial to a fault, with a reminder of how much lives are at stake, they should persuade her.
While brainstorming for solutions on myriads of topics, ranging from simple negotiation for army supplies to subtly influencing the neutrals to act, they are at an impasse. Despite being on the same side, the centuries-old grudges still reared their ugly head most comically if the opposing side was privy to it. Truly a miracle that no one had yet to draw their bde.
Amidst the fiery discussion, a blonde-haired Liberi man is watching the exchange in complete silence. He neither spoke a word nor so much as gnced at the table where the map was id. His bearing, stature, and atmosphere suggest he is no ordinary man. Duke Nesviz noticed his odd behavior.
“Sir Mikoj, what ails someone as accomplished as you? The st time I noticed such an expression was when we were cut off by Ursine Armored Brigade.” His words move the discussion to the man cd in silver and bck armor. He notices their stares and soon his hand grips the ancient bde, unsheathing it from its scabbard.
He sighed before announcing his reason for silence.
“The Grey Serpent.”
His words were accompanied by a dull thud of sword stabbing through the map. It was pointed directly at Wdirosa, and consequently, at the Silvernces camp within the rapidly modernizing vilge’s vicinity. There are only 12 of them, but those 12 are always there and they rarely take kindly on intruders.
All of that is on top of Wdirosa gaining notoriety for producing talented personnel; be it military or civilian. Which would be quite discombobuting if one were to see the picture on the table. Rows upon rows of fields to export high-grade farming products and local handiworks that formed the ideal vilge. That is if they ignored the next picture.
Mikoj pced a see-through paper on top of it to reveal many hidden and camoufged defenses. The once idyllic vilge had been turned into a de facto stronghold with moats, walls, cannon empcements, rotorcraft nding pads, and a self-sufficient heavy and farming industry that had been cleverly hidden. Not to mention the Catastrophe’s scar providing a fuel source for the next decades.
Sinister rumors abound that the Grey Serpent had stored terrible and borderline illegal weaponry in its many armories. The next obstacle would be the vilge Chief himself, Jan Ramona, who is no pushover commander. Lastly, it is a surefire way to anger the Silvernce.
Nyx made her intention clear, touch this vilge and anyone who did so shall pay dearly before she will rain hell personally and ws be damned. The vilge had weathered Ursus’ assault with less firepower and might almost two decades ago, doing anything so overt will only result in devastating loss.
All discussion and hushed tones evaporated immediately.
“What are we going to do with the Serpentine Demon? We touched the Nearl, and her bde would be pointed towards us.”
“What could a single woman do? I admit, she is dangerous but she shouldn’t be this unstoppable juggernaut that feels neither pain nor capable of bleeding.” The Countess scoffed still finding it hard to believe that a man of his caliber would be so serious. Mikoj stared bnkly at her, before shaking his head, pulling back his sword, and settling back looking at the map.
“The Grey Serpent should be a non-issue.” The bck-haired Kuranta answered with clear conviction.
“How could you be so sure?”
“She had driven herself into a corner. As you might have known, she is neither K.G.C.C.’s ckey nor was she Adeptus’ enforcer. The souring retion between her and these factions could be attributed to the Nearl’s family.” Crossing his hands, he sweeps his gaze on the attendees.
“Nyx prioritized the cessation of conflict. We have confirmed several instances of her being the middleman for negotiation and an arbiter for petty border conflicts. She has the strength to be the adjudicator and won’t shy away from resorting to force if parties involved reneged on the agreement.”
“Didn’t Catastrophe Messenger warn her about using force?”
“That’s precisely why she would not mind meditating, but she still skirts around the rules when needed.”
“Any other behavior that denotes her willingness to stand aside?”
“Colteral damage between her and her targets had more or less become a thing of the past. It is a shame that the Armorless Union internal purge had robbed me of much-needed manpower.”
“It is a fair tiding that she had softened. We will not be defeated by a single woman, but the cost of such an endeavor is not one we could pay lightly. Best for everyone involved if she stands as she always does.”
“I found words from Sargon however, unlike the underworld in Kazimierz, she was fairly respected with a name of her own.”
“Any chances those tribes owed her blood debts and recognition?”
“Likely, all the more reason for us to not antagonize her. For recognition… She is called in the Sargonian Underworld as Musmahhu.”
“The Priestess of Serpent? Huh… If we could get Margaret to see our aspiration, we would have ourselves a highly competent war machine. Nyx’s handling must be done carefully. Even when facts and records stated otherwise, she had more than just become an icon for the countryside.”
“All in agreement to not add unnecessary animosity?” His words were taken seriously. Nyx had shown behaviors that diverged greatly compared to just being a solo mercenary with only payment in mind. She has been burdened, and the fact that she rarely retaliated with impunity shows that her bancing act is still in effect.
His assurance forwarded the meeting further. Details were hashed out, orders and ideas given or added, and the moonlight soon reached its zenith.
-
-
-
Many of the nobles had left and returned to their demesne, lingering for too long would attract unnecessary problems. Except for Radzvanna who eyed Mikoj. The man had cautioned the council about the Grey Serpent without even the slightest regard for his reputation or standing. She approached him, and he internally sighed at having his quiet night disturbed.
“Sir Mikoj, I believed you had yet to answer my question.”
“It is nothing of importance, Lady Countess. I’m merely a rambling old fool.”
“Judging by the reports and findings I found myself. Baroness Nyx is indeed a concern, but none among the papers mentioned anything of her being a detriment to such a degree. I found it amusing that you put up so much guard on a single person. No matter how strong or resourceful she is, no one could fight an entire nation on their lonesome.”
She spoke with equal interest and confidence. Her line of thinking is appropriate, Nyx has many figures and groups breathing down her neck, sure, but that’s not the man’s concern. Mikoj wearily and blearily decided to dignify her with a satisfying answer.
“I see… papers, useful.” He spoke softly and strides toward her, his impassive but tired-looking face made her realize that she had misspoken. Each step he took echoed louder than the st, each heave of breath made the room feel stiffly suffocating, and each second her heart raced. He stops and stares downward at her shaking figure.
He smiled and proceeded to eborate.
“I had seen it.” Pause, his eyes flicked back to the table and onto the edges of his bde.
“I witnessed it.” A growl bled into his utterance, and that smile grew tighter plus his eyes spoke of hell one can’t be keener and thrilled to have attended.
“Did you know… she has many names… mostly forgotten at this point and simply be called as the Grey Serpent… Strange, it wasn’t even two decades. Do you know one of her many names?”
“… I…” Unconsciously, her body trembled remembering those stories the te Count had taught her. At the time, and until moments ago, she merely thought of them as cautionary tales on the level to make children behave. Yet one gnce at his serious gaze was enough to tell her that was no mere tale. Those words of her father are his final gift, from a loving parent to their child.
“On 16th June, 1071… I came across a young woman; the nascent Grey Serpent used to be a seemingly run-off-the-mill Pythia lost in a foreign nd. Back then, I was part of the infiltration force to sow chaos behind Ursus’ line, and that young woman was much more detached and empty. Her eyes barely concealed her feeling of boredom.”
“Our eyes cshed and she instantly recognized my oddity compared to other Ursus-aligned individuals, she could discern it that easily. She gave me nothing else than that simple stare and left on her bike. ‘Where to?’ you might ask. Simple, even deeper into Ursus-held territory.” He circled her frozen body, the shaking was irrational as it is fatal if it were on the battlefield.
“Curiosity got the better of me, I was young and foolish just like you are. Oh, I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, that woman was an infiltrator too. Then she just tried to act cool and keep her face after being caught or she was a criminal on the run…” His tone flipped onto bemused but tired with a tinge of mischief.
“So what is a little adventure? I waded through the meadows and prairies, through the thicket and swamp one could visit freely nowadays… then I came across a depression on the ground… I peered down.” He slowly brought his palm to her face, she could see that he was shaking too. A man who had braved the Ursine War Machine has his palm trembling like a leaf and sweating like a waterfall.
“The sight was seared into my brain, and it ironically allowed; conditioned, me to be bsé when the real bloodbath happened. Headless bodies, skinless corpses of men and women, and more bones than one could shatter with a single cannonball… burnt clothing that had been doused with a stench of rotten meat and primitive chemical… their faces, if she had any sagacity left, are frozen in a maze of never-ending terror.” His face shows a conflicting emotion of nostalgia and relief of waking up from the nightmare.
“I could not believe it… but such an image would keep repeating time and time the longer I deviate off my path to chase where she goes next, youthful foolishness and sheer disbelief that someone who has the face of an angel is ever capable of committing. I should have stopped, but her savagery was alluring in the most twisted way possible.”
“…” She tried to speak but her voice was empty and her lungs burned. She feels an extreme sensation of dread and exhaustion from just hearing his tale.
“She was showing me her part in the war and dared me to follow her deeper. She taught me in silence what one must expect should they willingly drown themselves in such a mire.” Her gut feeling has been bring non-stop. Her mind is drowning in an instinctive fear like a child would when the lights go out.
“Her magnum opus, a magnificent dispy of inhuman cruelty but also an appallingly effective measure of control, was the woodnd massacres.” She felt the weight of the whole war bearing down on her. She was too young to fight back then, but the notion of glory and honor had romanticized her view and veered her attention toward success and ambition.
“I watched her drag a man with his stomach cut open cleanly that even when his organs spilled out… none were damaged aside from dust and dirt clinging upon fresh flesh. She analyzed a human body with the precision of a chef having the skillset of hunter, surgeon, and torturer.
Her cerations, cuts, and slices were portioned as a butcher would portion calves without damaging the marrow, muscles from the wrist, and even tendons on limbs. Each slice was cleanly seared of skin to reveal bones, each blood-red innard was pulsing with blood and bile, and each organ was shivering and alive while exposed to the element.
She gutted a man and many others like hogs to the butcher’s pleasure. That woman cackled madly as if being possessed by a demon from hell, or perhaps that’s the moment the demon ripped its mask to let loose on the world of the living.
The agony was never-ending, and each time her victim tried to beg her to stop this torment, her cackles would shimmer but her lips recited their sins coldly. Those Ursine Patrolmen had angered the devil and it tore them to hell amidst their kicking and screaming.
Before I knew it, she was staring at me with bloodied eyes and a smile. She inched closer, and I swear that I never ran faster in my whole life than those 7 hours of mad dash, the pain of tumbling on dirt, colliding with sharp branches, and breaking my bones from falling were not important.”
He stops and a grimace accompanied by a bitter grin paints his expression.
“So much stress; so much time spent with one eye opened had built, allowed me to harness a maddening frenzy on the battlefield. The sounds of gunfire, shells, and cshing of bdes were soothing compared to the bloodcurdling scream of her handiworks.
For years I was pgued by nightmares that she would come after me, but it had yet to happen.
Comes a time when I unluckily crossed paths with her, and my body betrayed me to freeze in terror. That She-Devil smiled thinly and patted me on the back, as one would to an old friend, before leaving on her next hunt or other godforsaken games…”
Radzvanna’s pride demanded her to deny his words; denouncing him as a coward. Her heart, however, begged her to heed his words. Each sylble he uttered felt like a dagger being sunk deeper into her brain, she could envision the taste of cold steel and iron drenching her lips should she go through with her pn. Her resolve was shattered by a single tale, and that caused her immense confusion. Soon, her mouth uttered a singur question.
“Why are you endangering yourself?” The man raised his brows in surprise and he spoke candidly before bidding his farewell on this greenhorned but reasonable Countess.
“You remind me of a dead niece, and she still had a long way to go. I understand you wish to be the best for not only your family, honor, and glory, but also Kazimierz… so… forget it. When the civil war happened, ‘Steer clear from her’ and… hope for the best.”
-
-
-
-
The sound of chanting from people around her feels morbidly alien to the ears and senses honed on a true battlefield. She had been so used to hearing the cries of those who were desperate to live that they committed grave sins. Shouts of indignation and denouncement in a bid for survival. It left her flummoxed to no end.
Memories of a young child, barely older than Maria, echoed the deep-seated agony of seeing their felled parents. She had tried to reason with them, but their desperation forced her to choose between their child and the crazed; maddened thugs that she never doubted to have been decent folks.
Those above are chanting the words meant to encourage feels so hollow. It feels like she is stepping into a whole new world. A world where people glorify the essence of violence and blood, to venerate and immortalize them. It bewilders her how Zofia could withstand something so dehumanizing but perhaps she is just being biased.
‘Not now, focus… but… I’m gd that Zofia could think of them as encouragement. I’m happy that she doesn’t see what I had seen in the wilderness…’ She tried to keep her mind clear and positive. That too was challenged because of how a particur word crawled up her spine. Nothing could hold a candle to the audience’s cries; cries of ‘kill!’, ‘kill!’, and more ‘kill!’ being uttered flippantly by not one, but thousands.
The Knight Primus of the Nearl Family never stops swinging her arts-powered Warhammer and heaving her shield up. She shatters swords as one would break a toothpick, colpsing an armor’s integrity from the rawest application of force, bending and twisting shield as one would a flimsy pstic pte. Arrows and Arts energy smmed her and yet those were futile because her robust constitution and Pegasi’s Might made her a nightmare to fight.
Margaret Nearl is the Campaign Knight pitted against people who mainly go in for the theatrics. They added firs and charms on their swings, sshes, cuts, and stabs, but that mattered little when a Warhammer struck with a fsh of thunder. Sparks and blood are ignited and spilled on the arena, and the ever-growing feeling of helplessness against the raging maelstrom’s each sundering stroke has stricken its competitors off the field.
It is not against the rule to try and bury a competitor beneath a mountain of broken bodies, but that too mattered just as much as a morning dew being swept by children to be spshed on the dirt. Her opponents would have been in a worse state had she not infused her strike with her potent bloodline’s arts. A soft light that caresses their wound, and puts them to sleep to ease the exhausted medical teams’ burden coming in and out of the field.
Aside from fear came indignation and hatred. Those who feel they were being cheated by the administration to fight a seasoned soldier. The more politically inclined individuals had even slipped to trace the probability of their rivals siccing her their way as a means of harassment and backstabbing.
Of course, there were Campaign Knights that retired the battlefield for the Tournament field, and they proved to be a much sharper opponent. They could coordinate and sacrifice a hit or dodge for a window of opportunity with a clear and practiced mind. One of them had even managed to knock her helmet away by striking its link.
Margaret accrued injuries from these foes; people who were ‘robbed’ of their chances to either shine or wish to test their mettle against a worthy foe. Her wounds are artificial by comparison, but they remind her that spite is a wonderful boost when covered by adrenaline.
The audience cheered and their fervor increased every time her strikes rang true. They are not just watching a battle royale match, but an all-around domination that mirrored Degenbrecher’s first phenomenal performance. Each hit, deflection, and exertion shows that she is not just a cut above the rest but also two or three steps ahead of her opponents.
Radiant Knight subdued her foes beneath the artificial light shining upon the arena full of anything but artificial bloodbath, their groaning and painful whimpers made her feel disgust at how easily she had killed people. This and that is different, one might argue but the essence stays the same; she forces people to bow down by utilizing violence.
She tried her best during her tenure as the guardian of Kazimierz, but that means nothing here. Men and women, with hopes and dreams, are trounced on the ground reeling from cracked bones, dislocated joints, and internal bleeding. She could not see her visage morphing into that of light; a Golden Pegasus with its resplendent wings spread proudly.
Margaret underestimated the sheer dissonance of the battlefield and those who think that the circus id for them is the real deal. It is too te for regrets, she had decided to step into the limelight and fight for the people that was wronged and forgotten.
The Golden-haired Knight Primus keeps repeating the mantra of doing everything for her fallen comrades and people trampled by time. Her bleeding heart infused the warhammer with a golden light. Her watchers, admirers, and abhorrers are entranced by this purest hue of Nearl’s fortitude and finesse. Their chanting grew fervent, and there were still many she must feel before moving on to the next round.
-
-
-
-
[GOODNESS GRACIOUS, MARGARET NEARL HAD LITERALLY TRAMPLED ALL OVER HER OPPONENT! IS THIS THE VAUNTED NEARL FAMILY?! WAS THE RADIANT KNIGHT MONIKER HOLD MORE CREDENCE THAN JUST ADMIRATION?!]
The MC betedly screamed in the stadium, unlike with Degenbrecher’s days, the mere fact that an empty seat for a champion was avaible had made the interest quadruple. After 9 long years of monotony, and brief surprises, the vaunted gdiatorial tournament is back. Excitement for blood, money, and fame has returned as a full-set buffet.
Inside one of the many VVIP rooms for the CEOs, Affluent businessmen, K.G.C.C. aligned Nobles, and even foreign dignitaries are exchanging polite pleasantries and affable ughter while discussing mundane topics. The Bck Knight's departure to what is effectively banishment and exiled reinvigorated the desire for business. Those who dabbled in tampering probability such as Casino and Stock Exchange are the most eager of the bunch.
They are not here just to watch of course, no. These people, especially the dignitaries, are visiting to watch how a single woman who should have known better dared to enter a tournament she shouldn’t have. It is a fascinating prospect, one the K.G.C.C. has no choice but to oblige, pn, and think around with.
“I heard that she has gained prominence in the countryside, I wonder how well would that transte into entertainment on the field?”
“The Campaign Knights are more or less a difficult bunch, this might prove problematic in how to market her value. Yet judging from the short-term and long-term… we would have enough fortune to construct smaller nomadic cities. What a troublesome family they are… giving us money and headache…”
“Fret not, we managed to have our fair with a certain someone’s merchandise, dealing with this bright-eyed dy is much easier. Sure, her Uncle objected informally but on the surfaced, he doesn’t wish to muddle the water further.”
“How is it going with the Grey Serpent, has she acted?”
“Nothing so far, Nyx had become very passive.” One of the aides whispered discretely to his superior.
“Armorless Union intelligence unit had confirmed complete radio silence from Lady Nyx. She had been busy working outside their range most of the time, but we never managed to record her trying to contact Margaret Nearl.”
“Has the Nearl family lost its value in her eyes?”
“Unlikely, our analyst and field agents had confirmed that she has more than a vested interest in the Nearl. This time, we do not know if she endorsed them or is pying carefully to avoid raising the tension.”
‘Tsk… a single woman gave us so much headache. We should have accepted that deal to ship her to Ursus. We could potentially have had our retionship mended by handing over that damn criminal…’ Of course, the man knew better than to voice his thoughts out loud.
“Keep me posted.”
“Understood.” Such conversation continues. Many would rather try and profit from this dire situation first, and there are plenty of ways to get out of this mess. Thus the lonely Knight Primus trudges onward while the shadow of wars lingers in the background.
[END OF CHAPTER]
Author’s Note:
Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who wants to congratute everyone who got either Wisadel or Logos (or both).
This chapter illuminated a few problems in how clean is it actually for Margaret to be exiled.
It is not unthinkable that Adeptus had really pulled the string not out of mercy but complete necessity. What is undeniable would be the Silvernces and Grandmaster Ioletta’s vow to not let down Kiril Nearl.
Hmm, what’s this? Another faction? Something like that. Politics are never so clear cut so it is fair to assume that Margaret’s future departure and return has something like that.
Nyx’s gambit is fairly on the lower end, but what would that be? We’ll see ter.
The first chapter of the month.
Ciao
