Herald 7 : Disgust

Katachi took a bite out of a pear and gave a sour look around the house.

K: (It's quite orderly, but there's probably more behind that doorway. Maybe I'll find something there.)

There was a figure poised perfectly in place by the bed, a short woman with a weathered dress and simple ponytail. Her eyes were half-open and she appeared completely dazed. It was mere moments ago when she was scrying into Katachi's subconscious in order to learn of his deepest insecurities.

Earlier, the poor Etria made a heavy oversight when creating the Etims rune to restrain Katachi. While it was common for fresh blood to denote the ownership and vitality of the magus in question, it was no longer especial to the creator once it had dried. All Katachi had to do was set his own status as Constant to let her blood shrivel before using the rune against her.

K: (This house has a strange layout. The dining room is placed furthest from the front entrance, as though it were a trap for the guests to rest and relax at. Those things around the backdoor seem to be some kind of Wier rune trap, or something like that.)

Had the stumpy lady used her saliva instead of blood, the counterattack would not exist. Given her stature and positioning, Katachi could only guess that her right hand was on his forehead, therefore using her left hand to draw the rune was likely an extremely awkward feat. Aside from that, the other alternative was that her inscribing hand was dirtied or unhygienic from something she did earlier.

Was it fortune that gave him an easy way out? Perhaps. But an opportunity meant nothing to the ones who could not act upon it. Katachi unfolded an envelope sandwiched between two books to find a letter too important to ignore.

K: (This... This is probably from the previous Acolyte of Hraxiif. It looks like some kind of instruction meant to be followed.)

The letter made mentions to the next Acolyte she was to guide Katachi towards, an ambiguous figure by the name of Giazza. There was also a blank paper of sorts with something embellished at the bottom left corner... It was likely an enchanted paper that Etria was supposed to convey her findings to.

Within the envelope was a strange circular ring that looked almost like an eye.

K: (It says here that I'm supposed to put this on the tattoo... Huh.)

Katachi fumbled with the strange ring and tried planting it on the back of his hand. As though in defiance, the pupil of the eye tattoo kept looking away from his finger, much like the natural aversion a human would have against a foreign object primed before their face. He had to pin down the eyeball with his middle finger so that the eye would not steer from his index finger... The faint-hearted would have caved in long ago at the incredibly unnerving scene, despite the lack of gore or bloodshed.

In response, the skin around the eye suddenly aged and wrinkled, his youth and vibrancy sapped by the implant. It now looked like the eye before was snuffed out, and in its place was the eye of the second acolyte, Giazza. It gave him a welling feeling of anxiety over the grudge-like response from introducing the ring forcefully.

K: (Old and wrinkly... I suppose the next acolyte is an elder of sorts. What does the house look like?)

Katachi primed the eye tattoo so that it would turn itself inside out. The vision that came in view was a decent shack next to a lake with a road running between them.

K: (That road... It's nice and paved, but it's next to a lake. The house is across the road, and I don't recognize the trees in the background. So it's probably somewhere in Ohde or Auser.)

The clues would have to wait. Nothing was more persuasive than actually arriving at the destination, after all.

K: (Okay. I need a road next to a lake. There's a bricklayer somewhere outside, I should ask him if there's any nearby. If not... The only reliable place left would be to use Lein's Urgency back to Dermesten, travel all the way to Stuznoche and try the road by the Charity Pond in secret.)

If there were no other alternatives, the only way forward was the roundabout route to the capital of Findel. And even then, using a magic like Lein's Urgency at a public facility like the Charity Pond was an outright crime. It was best to do it in the dead of the night, or when the guards were distracted by a diversion of sorts.

Something along the lines of fixating a pot in midair and releasing it to cause a commotion elsewhere should do the trick nicely. In everything, changes were usually subtle, minute and gradual; considering every factor in play was the safest way to proceed. Katachi loaded his bag with some additional supplies from Etria's house and headed out.

*** ***

"Gentlemen, the attendance today is gracious. Thank you for coming."

In a bright room filled with various knights and nobles, a fortnightly meeting was held to address the current events in Rugnud. The various nobles took their seats on chairs arranged to form a ring, while their retainers leaned against the walls for comfort. Lord Doyle stood in the chairman seat with a slightly worried expression.

D: "We shall begin, then. Today's meeting is to discuss the Venanir incident follow-up primarily, among other things. Baroness Nouman, do begin with a summary to bring everyone up to speed."

N: "Understood. Currently, the situation in the Venanir district is tense. The outbreak of crime and violence have occurred in higher frequencies than other regions like Ivanmeld and Scorle. From the findings of an investigation team, the root cause is due to the malady that has afflicted the owner of the largest grocery store, Samuel Riggamrod. He runs an operation that sells produce as well as the transport of them to the smaller groceries."

Roberia stole a small peek to the side, where one of the servants was playfully twirling the hair of a retainer esquire who flashed an embarrassed smile.

N: "With his business suspended, the sales and transport of produce stagnated and food became scarce in the district. Grocery stores were barricaded and bakeries closed early, the ones that didn't prepare in time were lost to the masses. The cut in supply that was supposed to balance the demand also resulted in a heavy inclination towards the black market, which took the chance to raise their prices exorbitantly."

A: "We should have their heads for this! No amount of profit is worth the suffering of our people!"

In an outburst of rage, Count Anders stomped the ground loudly and made a fierce declaration. The couple who were not attentive to the meeting jolted temporarily, and a unique decorative sword next to them fell onto the ground from the quake.

R: (A ceremonial sword? So they're courting each other...)
D: "Count Anders, I believe the nobles present share your feelings but please restrain yourself. Baroness Nouman is not finished."

The hot-tempered noble gave a quiet nod and looked away with grumbles. Count Anders had a face that suggested the meeting was expending valuable time, and he looked like he was itching to mobilize his forces in Unthrupe immediately to assist in the subjugation.

N: "Thank you for being steadfast as always, Count Anders. As I was saying, an inflation in the cost of produce is clearly unnatural, and it appears that the transport owned by the other grocery enterprises were also sabotaged deliberately at the same time. This established produce as a monopoly that only the black market sells. Increased expenditure in the average household caused the outbreak of crime and violence as tensions and food prices continue to rise in Venanir."

"As an addendum, it has been confirmed by my lord Duke Harlot that organized crime has been occurring in the Venanir district. The people believe they're called the Miners' Independence Liberation Front, and there is currently an investigation underway to determine whether the incidents were isolated or otherwise."

*Cozy's Notes: MILF... I will never understand myself. Why did I do this*

Roberia could not concentrate on the meeting as much as she wished she did.

R: (Entrusting one's fate to Ilpoh... Should I do the same? It would certainly be much easier on myself if I abandoned reason and behaved as Count Anders usually does. He's a good man, though quick to anger.)

If she drawled her courage out and antagonized Cosette as a love rival, surely Jullan would be made aware of her feelings. There certainly was nothing wrong with that, one could not expect to befriend everyone under the blue sky. Those who took a stance and stood by their beliefs and convictions were the ones worthy of trust compared to the cunning men always on the fence.

D: "Very well. We shall temporarily abbreviate this group as the MIL-Front. But if what Duke Harlot says is founded, then surely their net must be wider and more complex than anticipated, is it not? Are there any news on that front, steward of Harlot?"

"My deepest apologies, Lord Doyle, for I may not answer that which my lord has yet to confirm. However, the possibility is high."

D: "Understood. Baroness, please continue."

But it felt like forcing an answer immediately was too hasty. At the very least, Roberia should explore all options carefully before making a decision that would permanently affect her future like so; especially when her position as royalty was factored in.

N: "As of this moment, the armies of Duke Marcyn and relief troops of Baron Issemedi have gathered for a peacekeeping operation. While it is reassuring for the economy in the short term, this stopgap measure would hold out for about a month at best. As for the development of this operation, there is no news thus far on the location of the MIL-Front base of operations."

D: "Thank you, Baroness. As I have mentioned before, our primary subject for this meeting will be the actions and follow-up measures in regards to this situation. I would like to hear of any ideas that you think may contribute to the operation. Be it the assignment of your own troops, the management of resources and personnel, anything you suggest will be put through consideration. We shall proceed with a token system, as usual, to funnel the ideas that might be repeated."

*** ***

Zirco had a hard time understanding the purpose behind the scroll in his hands. He imagined something like a magical contract where Mother Rinnesfeld or the accursed child was bringing benefit to his family in some way, but nothing could have prepared him for what was to come.

It was Katachi. To be more accurate, it was a portrait of the child years ago, when he was younger. Zirco noticed the small wound etched on his right ear that had long healed, so it was probably sometime around four years ago.

The clues, the details, everything started to piece together. The parchment itself was not terribly old so a family tree would be rather unreasonable. Magic contracts were often cast in Gopbid broth frozen into ice slabs to preserve it, so keeping it in a sealed scroll format like so offered little to no protection.

The magic used was one meant for important confidential instructions. Whatever was inside the scroll had been bound in such a specific way that its contents were never to see the light of day unless intended. Knowledge banal enough to be kept with such careful measures... But why? It was just a picture, a portrait of a child with an ugly scowl on his face. Was it that dangerous to warrant such a meticulous technique?

Slenn withdrew a bottle of something murky from his coat and placed it inside the cage. He grabbed the scroll and illuminated it carefully with a candle from a table nearby. With a short gasp, Slenn kicked the jail cell gates and caused a racket to grab his attention.

S: "Onzag. I brought you some wine."

O: "... I'm not thirsty."

The feeble figure in tattered rags briefly budged in reluctance. His voice was dried, croaky and filled with a strange vibe that gave Zirco a terrible premonition.

S: "I know you aren't. But this wine's filled with rat poison, it might make you feel better."

Z: (Rat poison? Why would rat poison make him feel better?)
O: "... Who's the one next to you? I heard someone gasp just now."

Slenn gave Zirco a stern glare and pointed at the prisoner with his chin.

Z: "My name is Zirco. I'm the son of Reeve Ovdermes."

O: "You brought your own boy to prison? Whatever for?"

The broken figure slowly got up and stretched his neck briefly before turning around slowly.

O: "Is he going to take over your place in the of- FFOOH THE GODS' MERCY!? No! No!! What have you done!?"

What a vivacious response! Onzag took an almost reflexive stance against the drawing, averting his eyes and curling up on the floor.

Z: (He looks deathly pale! What the heck happened for- ?!)
O: "No, no no no no no no no!! I'm not hungry! I'm not hungry!!- Aaa, AAARRRGGGGHHHH!!!"

As though he were praying to the gods, the animated prisoner clutched his stomach and throat at the same time with an anguished expression. He knelt and writhed and squirmed in an almost-unholy series of movements, before facing skyward in an unnatural movement to release a haunting bellow.

O: "They, they're coming! Aaahgh! WWUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHKKKGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"

Zirco could do nothing but watch as swarms of brown spiders crawled out from his mouth and across his body. The terrible shell of a man fell on his back and passed out from experiencing the unimaginable horror. The spiders aggressively jumped and leapt about the cellar, picking up and salvaging anything they could get their pincers on. Strands of hay across the ground, leftovers from a plate, the drain meant for transporting sewage, nothing was spared in their large-scale material collection.

The pests were too much for him to bear. Zirco reached for a piece of chalk on the hanging blackboard, but he was stopped by his father.

S: "Don't. You will only hurt him in the long run."

Hurting the prisoner by destroying the spiders infesting his body? Slenn did not make sense, nor did he attempt to explain why. Zirco could only quietly watch as the spiders returned to the unconscious Onzag with their supplies restocked. What was it like to have a spider that dived into the sewage crawl back down one's throat? Let alone the act itself, that unclean idea was enough to make Zirco feel like retching.

Z: (By the gods... That's going to plague my sleep tonight.)
S: "Sorry, Onzag. With this, you will never trust anyone ever again."

With a silent prayer, the reeve offered sincere apologies to a prisoner that had his courage devoured by the parchment. Zirco felt absolutely horrible in the three minutes he arrived in the cellar and had to turn his back on Onzag. It was astonishing to find the gagged man's stoic reaction towards the chaos.

Z: "What, by Croxa's beard, was that?!"

Zirco could spare a guess, but asking directly felt more reassuring. The gnawing, sinking feeling had taken a foothold long ago, but now it was spreading through his body like a rampant fever. If the portrait of Katachi was the one responsible for that monstrosity, there could only be one logical outcome.

S: "That is what happens when you cross the Watcher. Why else do you think the adults refer to him by that name?"

It was as he feared; Katachi performed something truly wicked to the poor man in the cell, one where calling him heretical was an understatement. Having lived a carefree and milquetoast life, he could feel how awful it was to be stripped of that freedom and pitted in a damp jail with nothing but torn rags as a pathetic cover for his crotch.

But a deeper fear was permeating him from deep within. If that was what happened when the man was shown a mere portrait of the accursed child, then how severe would it actually be if Katachi himself was present? Was that not a permanent disability akin to crippling him for life? He felt an urgency, more than ever before, to research and banish the spell. If the heretic were to cast it on everyone in town out of pure malice, then Mielfeud was as good as dead.

Z: "We... We need to remove that, that... Whatever that is. What spell was that?"

The answer to come would break him entirely.

S: "We tried. Minister Lein headed back to the Duvel to consult various other ministers and the Grande of Auser, and-..."

Slenn had a painful look on his face when he realized that the conversation was going to drop the hope in his son's eyes.

S: "... The only person who knows how to dispel it would be the caster himself."

That was the worst news he had ever heard in the entire time he was alive.

Z: (Impossible! No one but the caster knows?! Then, isn't that spell unique to the magus?) "That... That's an original spell?!"

Slenn could only give a firm nod.

Z: (That bag of torn skin and bones, created a unique spell at the age of six?...)

The math did not add up, not in the slightest. Zirco pulled off his first successful spell at the age of nine when he felt lonely from Dante departing for the Sage Raufid Magus Academy. But, years before that, the heretic child had long arrived at a proficiency much higher than his own; and he created an original spell that could not be understood by even the various sorcerors across the countries.

His words echoed in Zirco's head. 'Is that your extent as a magus?' At that time, Zirco thought it was a remark of scorn, to depreciate his chances of being viewed in a favourable light by Minister Lein. But for that same Minister Lein to know of Katachi's magnitude that he sought counsel from the other members of the Duvel... It was an even bigger shock how someone like Katachi was left alone and not conscripted.

S: "Yes it is. Let's head back, it is starting to get dark. We can talk on the way."

But, put from another perspective, it was possible that the heretic child was simply interested in how Zirco's magic developed. It was like acing a difficult test with ease and asking how the surrounding classmates fared. Beneath his façade of a quiet exiled child was a powerful and ambitious magus with the single-minded focus of pursuing a goal grander than his peers were prepared for.

What was this strange sense of insignificance expanding within Zirco? All that time, when Dante was bullying him and making him look so weak and passive... Had it always been the other way round, where Katachi saw the three as mere grass next to his feet? He felt like he had been treading on a Bhast the entire time, barely avoiding a dangerous fate by not acting out of place.

It was horrific, it was mind-blowing, but most of all it was... Frustrating. His childhood felt like a waste, and it gave him this sense of an unfathomable competition. There was every reason to be afraid of a magus powerful enough to possess his own original spell, and even then Katachi took the liberty to explain his shortcomings as though he were a teacher or senior.

Shame, disgust, self-hatred and fear. The four swirled and meshed into a marble texture, and it painted a sight he might have been better off never knowing. Was it actually jealousy that kept Zirco anchored to Dante's superiority complex? For the brief time he spent with Bellius, for the childhood he enjoyed with his friends, that same time-span gave birth to what was possibly the scariest person he had ever met.

A child with the qualifications to become a sorceror.

S: "Zirco, regarding the reason why Onzag is-"
Z: "-Father, is it really an original spell?"

He had to know. He felt like the knowledge, even if minimal, would bridge the gap between them if only for a little bit. Zirco was not keen on experiencing the inferiority imposed upon him, just as Dante had on Katachi himself. It was truly a bitter twist of fate, and perhaps the very reason why Zirco felt power, security and acknowledgement by Dante's side.

S: "Yes. None of the sorcerors have ever seen anything quite like it. Grande Aubivzsky attempted to dispel it but to no avail, since that isn't considered a curse."

Z: (Not even a Grande could dispel it?) "It's not a curse? Then, is it an attack?"

S: "You would probably have as hard a time accepting this as I have, but... Believe it or not, it appears that spell is actually a protective ward."

That was even more confusing. The spider infestation spell was not meant to hurt or torture, but to protect? It was the worst word that could be used to describe something so averse to its intended meaning.

Z: "What kind of twisted ward is that supposed to be?"

S: "I was as surprised as you are. There is a term called 'protecting a child from hurting himself' by removing him from danger, but it's the first time I've seen that used on a grown man. You'd think that being an accountable adult allows yourself to steer clear of danger, so he should have been symbolically immune to it even if Onzag were a wretched bastard. Then again, I don't really get what principles that original spell acts on. I'm not a magus, I wouldn't know."

A spell that forcibly encumbered the target in order to protect them from themselves... As expected, the common sense behind it was warped beyond comprehension. It hardly seemed like a protective ward, and resembled a torture device that only Katachi knew how to use. A brief notion surfaced in his head as he mocked himself for thinking he had a solution the sorcerors didn't know about.

Did he really believe he was some elite who would 'save the day' and find the miraculous answer that eluded other magi? If even the Grande at the forefront of magic development knew nought of it, what made him so certain? For certain, his admiration of Dante's free-spirited attitude must have afflicted him somehow... But more importantly, if Katachi could prove his ability to cast and enact the spell at will, he would be more than qualified to be a sorceror. Yet, the evidence of him staying in town suggested otherwise.

*Cozy's Notes: As a revision for those who need it, there are three Titled Sorceror positions. Ministers are for matters with politics, Sages are for matters with nature and Grande are for matters with magic & the direction it should develop in. Think of them as bureaucrats, naturalists and philosophers.*

Z: (I can't believe he could give other sorcerors a hard time... Is he even human?) "You were saying that destroying the spiders would only hurt Onzag in the long run?"

S: "Yeah, it's been tried and tested years ago. Even if you did kill the spiders, the eggs within his body would hatch and cause him immense agony. There's no hope left for Onzag, I'm afraid. In fact, keeping him in jail was Grande Aubivzsky's proposal. Not that it made much of a difference since that spell is a stronger jail than any amount of security we could provide. But, at least nobody would kill his spiders by accident."

The truth was terrible. Old-bones Onzag would live the rest of his life as a slave to that spell, to fear and hate Katachi to his last breath. Also, with the heretic child in mind, it was entirely possible that there were no means to undo the spell, even if its methods were known. It might even be possible that the means to release it held consequences even worse than the spell itself, which would render any attempt at destroying it meaningless.

That was the hazardous nature of original spells which escaped the revision and judgment of the Grande. They were often powerful but carried severe drawbacks to its caster most of the time. He couldn't feel anything wrong with Katachi despite that, so either the effect was something he managed to reverse in the spare time he had, or...

Z: "Why is that scum still allowed in town, then? What if he used that spell on everyone he meets?"

S: "The ministers took care of it with Mother Rinnesfeld. Don't brood over that matter."

... or that Zirco was already witnessing it. Could his seclusion and apathy be the consequence of using a spell like so, to revoke the rights of a human being? Never in his life had Zirco seen the heretic smile. The idea itself seemed impossible, and if he ever were to smile it would be the forced kind with fingers pushing the sides of his mouth upwards.

Z: "How, and when, did this even happen? I can't imagine or remember it."

A terrible price paid for a mere moment of unfathomable power. To trade one's freedom for another, perhaps that sufficed as the spell's base? But that theory would not hold. As mentioned, the spell itself was not made of malice, so there was nothing Grande Aubivzsky could do to dispel it. The begrudging of two individuals with the intent to make them suffer for their sins would certainly be dispelled if it were the base.

Changing the angle might help a bit in times like so. If, by establishing that it was indeed a warding spell, then the specifications should be clarified. It was a protective ward, so it had a target to protect in mind. That did not have to be Onzag himself, as evidenced by various different sources of self-sacrifice in history. But, in that case, who or what was it made for?

S: "I recall that it was around the time Juval had hay fever and you went over to take care of him. Back then, Onzag was a paedophile who had his eyes on the potter's daughters. You know, Phigail and her sisters."

Z: "He WHAT?!"

S: "There's a lot to be said, but it's better if you read about it. <1565 A.D. Month of the Seeds: Conclusion of the Aberrant Case.> The profiles of the people involved, the proceedings, everything you want to know about the case can be found there, Zirco. Look it up in my office when you have the time. For now, we'll wrap this up."

*Cozy's Notes: For those who wish to read the full report, sound out so I'll write it. Otherwise, I'll keep it for Bad Ends & Bloopers.*

Perhaps Katachi's actions were more justified than he thought. If it was performed to contain a criminal, he could understand how that heinous act could be projected as the heroics of a vigilante. That might be the reason why Mielfeud was not the ghost town he feared it would become.

S: "If you think that was bad enough, don't forget that it was a spell he created at least four years ago when he was only six. Only the gods know how much he's grown since then. You now know better than to cross him, Zirco. So for your safety, I do not want you to approach that child, not under any circumstances. Not even in emergencies. Do that, and I'll overlook your escapades at the Pedud Inn."

The topic shifted in a peculiar direction.

Z: "What? You knew? Wh- when did you find out?"

S: "Who do you think I am? Anyway. You want to woo that innkeeper's daughter, right? Bring her home."

Z: "Gods, father, shut up. I haven't asked."

It felt embarrassing. Whatever privacy and reputation he forged for himself out there was, in the end, a mere forgery. Zirco's private life was too different from his public life for him to feel comfort over that.

S: "She seems nice enough. Don't worry about the backlash and go for it. You don't want to be perpetually lonely like the Watcher, do you?"

Z: "I know what I'm doing, father. Don't interfere in my love life."

As they strolled back to their house, Zirco hid a small smile. It brought him comfort knowing that Brianna would be welcomed with open arms should she ever visit. More than ever, he felt the burning desire to save up more coin and purchase materials to build their own house with.

Z: (... The only inn I should splurge at is hers. If it's to lessen the burden even by a little, I guess I'll hold off drinking, for her sake.)

*** ***

The cool night air about her only meant one thing – She suffered a counterattack from the vessel candidate and let him escape. Etria quickly prostrated herself when she felt a chilling presence behind her.

E: "My- my lord, please forgive this foolish one for failing you."

From under her bed emerged a small shadowy presence in the shape of a quadruped animal. Small light surfaced on its skin and created a mesmerizing display of the night sky.

H: "I don't need excuses. Only results."

E: "Y- yes, my lord, the child's weakness would be his guardian, the nun. I shall send it to Giazza immediately."

Etria got up on her feet and rushed to a table where the objects around her house were laying on. The house was strangely rearranged and tidied up, with loose papers placed in a neat stack and the enchanted paper she was looking for rolled up on the table prepared to receive her words. It was as though some hired assistant or housekeeper came by the place prior to her return from a dazed state.

E: (Did... Did he do this? His memories of the church often showed it in a neat state. Maybe he has a compulsion to house-keep? Or did he steal something from the house and rearranged the items to obfuscate the thievery?) "My lord, while the nun serves as a bargaining chip, I have no guarantees that this is the fear which we can use to keep him on a leash. In the rare event that happens, what should we do?"

H: "Don't worry about it. I have no intent on controlling him that thoroughly."

Etria felt a sense of extreme discomfort across her whole body. She sat down on the seat and scribbled her findings onto the enchanted paper roll. When it was done, she rubbed her nose and dabbled on the paper with her oily fingertips a strange set of symbols.

E: "Forgive me for speaking out of line, my lord, but a child like that could jeopardize your plans if he were not cuffed and chained like a hound. I fear the worst where he might devise a ploy to destroy you. Is it really alright to let him move with such freedom?"

H: "I believe in the success of this plan. To repeat errs is mere folly, while spicing things up can lead to progress and change. I don't need every vessel to be a mindless puppet."

But the divine beast was unconvinced. Etria frowned and felt a looming sense of frustration and defeat. The measures for Hraxiif to defend himself were essential to make his vessels incapable of retaliation. To share his great might with the contractors was no different from telling them his weaknesses, and should the wilful and resistant ones come along they would put its very being in danger. Yet her lord took no such measures against someone deceptive enough to trick her.

Why did it not understand that Etria only wished the best for her master? Why would it willingly position its heart right before a blade? Why did she feel so helpless to aid her benefactor that overlooked her indulgence into Vitnen's mind-probing and granted her a house, food and peace among many other things? Etria felt conflicted in her heart, when suddenly-

E: (... Huh? I can't move?) "... ?!"

-she realized a beat too late that she could not move. Etria frantically eyeballed the surrounding region to find something ivory rising from the floorboards before her.

E: (What- what is going on?! What is that?!?)

The figure before her resembled a terrifying mass of bones sanded into fine powder and mixed with some liquid, like water, or cream, or something alike. It gave off an immense and repulsive feeling with a rotten and earthy smell which could only suggest the dead forcibly reanimated into its current form. Etria could not even begin to take in the scene before Hraxiif's claw flashed before her in a mere instant.

In that action, the amorphous mass of ivory water approaching her lost the form it held and splashed onto the floor en masse. When Etria looked down to examine the mess she had to clean up, a parchment hiding under the books had been scarred by a prominent scratch mark, and the books by the side toppled to reveal one with a wine-stained cover.

The scene took a while for Etria's brain to register what just happened, but she finally had the composure to flip the parchment around. On the other end of the paper read 'Eat yourself, you puckercrack' in wine.

E: "He... He tried to silence me?"

The clues lodged into place, piece by piece. An isolated room, to imitate a jail. The key to her house missing from its usual spot, to construct the absence of freedom. The paper with the incomplete sentence, representing a desperation of someone at their wits' end. The presence of wine, to insinuate the inevitable circumstances and acceptance of fate. And, the only piece missing was...

H: "Why wouldn't he? You know enough of his secrets to be a threat. But, put another way, what you've learned is important enough for him to attempt eliminating you. Isn't that great?"

... herself. She had symbolically fulfilled the condition of powerlessness by mentally submitting to the factors beyond her control. It was a very delicate trap that had several obscure components, knowing that she would feel angst and disappointment, knowing that she needed to write on the paper. Knowing, that she would complete the symbolism all by herself and let The Sworn's Last Meal activate by naturally aligning circumstances to trigger a spell which was not supposed to be there.

This was no slipshod job. It was set up to look like an accident, when the perpetrator had long departed from the location. Was he quietly laughing somewhere far away? No, perhaps not. Did he also predict that Hraxiif would intervene, given her importance? Plausible. The trap was a pretty slow spell, and could be interrupted ahead of time. It was not meant to be a trap, but a demonstration; to pry no further within his memories.

What truly disturbed her, above all else, was the discreet build behind it. Katachi was a complete stranger, one that she knew for less than an hour. Yet somehow, he was able to rout her train of thought and have her dance along to his scheme. For someone who didn't know her well, he somehow managed to gauge how she would act, even more than her previous fiance guessing at their anniversary.

H: "Against someone of that calibre, whatever submission he shows is feigned anyway; and his treachery strikes unseen. The purpose of the leash you proposed will only backfire against that child. Why would I want another bound puppet, when the unshackled can do so much more?"

Where others saw only disgust, Hraxiif saw potential. The child who was trapped and propelled by his fears, while inspiring fear and awe in the people he met all the same. In what appeared to be a devious smirk, the wolf flashed its teeth and sunk back into the shadows.

*** ***

"As far as supplies are concerned, I can offer some of my own to sustain the relief troops at the moment. But, if the situation remains unchanged by the time my corps returns from the exercise, they will be mobilized towards Venanir directly."

D: "Thank you, Baron Viette. Every little bit helps. It's your turn, Baron Issemedi."

Roberia flashed an ugly frown at her own selfishness.

I: "Well, I'll keep it brief. My relief troops are now in Venanir at the moment, my father is still ailing and I need to prepare for my wife's labour. Forgive me if I'm not in the mood to join in the discussion."

D: "Of course, good sir. Thank you as always. Count Anders?"

Love and war were simply stances where one ought to confront the opposing sides. In that conflicting struggle, beauty was to be found; that was one of Ilpoh's teachings she remembered vividly. Yet somehow, the reality did not appear quite as expected.

As Roberia thought of a possible future between Jullan and herself pleasantly, she could not bear to imagine a future where Jullan and Cosette would be with each other. Picturing the two people she loved the most, both lacking the confidence and drive to wield their courage, somehow felt wrong. She thought that Jullan would not suit someone of a frail and gentle demeanour like Cosette.

Somewhere down the line, she wished for their relationship to go awry.

It was a hideous thought among many that should never be allowed the light of day. Roberia felt sickened with herself for thinking that. How could she? It was no time to play matchmaker. It was the happiness of the three of them at stake, and a choice like that could not be taken lightly. She turned to the rugged man next to her impatiently tapping his fingers against the seat.

A: "Unthrupe will prepare their men at once to join Duke Marcyn's forces. That is all."

D: "Thank you, Count Anders. Your Highness Roberia, is there anything you would like to share in order to enrich this meeting?"

The territorial nobles who travelled from afar took the effort to join and discuss an important matter regarding the well-being of her people, and what was she doing? Mulling over personal affairs while her people starved and struggled. What a terrible disgrace she was, to be trapped by the subject from yesterday and affecting the important matters.

Roberia paused for a moment in silence to organize her thoughts before proceeding with her speech.

R: "I think it's important to consider the far-reaching implications of their actions. I understand that everyone would like this matter to be resolved in a clean sweep, but it never hurts to prepare for when it fails."

D: "Agreed. What implications do you believe this incident would pose, Your Highness?"

R: "For example, there is the issue with what they plan to use all that coin for. If we are talking about organised crime, the MIL-Front does not seem to have a long history. Rather than amassing funds for weaponry, I think the revenue they gathered will be used to start a trade, or a dummy company at least."

V: "A dummy company... It would act as a cover for the revenue they gathered, as well as legalise the funds!"

N: "But the upkeep of their cover would make it a loss, wouldn't it?"

R: "I don't think the company is all they're planning to purchase. It's common for merchants to buy resources that can rake in bigger fortunes when refined. Buying cloth and thread to sew into clothes has a higher profit than simply selling the cloth and thread alone. The company itself is just a cover to obtain the rights to sell."

"With that in mind, something cheap and in demand that can make use of the miners' physique to gain profit far more than a simple resell... Alcohol, perhaps?"

N: "Consumables are definitely the easiest to market since they need to be restocked frequently."

V: "What if they want to lay low, and avoided consumables? I mean, with the uproar of food shortage in Venanir, any new company that establishes itself with produce will be suspected of their dealings with the incident."

N: "Point taken. We should list down and categorise jobs that have a high-profit ratio, and jobs that require manpower. We can start from there."

"We need to finish the list quickly. The sooner we know their next objective, the more likely we are in catching them."

I: "I will have Ilarys gather a list by tomorrow, which will be sent to everyone present and otherwise. Aren't there other agendas to discuss?"

The lethargic Baron Issemedi cut the conversation short with a solid conclusion. He looked stressed and fouled the mood quickly. Roberia could understand some part of his sullen mood since he was the only baron who dispatched aid swiftly at the mere notice of strife, unlike most of the other nobles assembled.

D: "Er, thank you, Baron Issemedi. Out of consideration for time, please postpone your discussions until after the meeting, we shall be skimming through the remaining subjects. Our next primary agenda on the list is regarding the Boarding School program, as per request from Duke Harlot. So far four esquires have agreed to the program, namely Chotil Nea of Casa del Chotil, Panille Viette, George Rubertson and Cillian de Vorsche."

Roberia initially wanted Jullan to join her in the Boarding School program, to create opportunities that would make him favour her over Cosette. That, however, was not to be, given her disinterest towards magic and Jullan's desire to pursue swordplay.

D: "Two pairs have been sent out, one to Auser and the other to Findel, as exchange students to the respective academies. Thus far, their feedback proves the program is very fruitful, and they have confidence in facing magi as opponents in the future. Are there any nobles who would also like their children to partake in the Boarding School program? Aside from Baron Viette, of course."

N: "Yes, I do."

D: "Understood. Steward of Harlot, after the meeting, if you please."

"Thank you, sir."

D: "Right, are there any outstanding events to address? If not, then on the consideration of time, let us conclude. This monthly meeting is adjourned, thank you for your time."

The nobles dismissed themselves from the room readily. Roberia walked towards the courtyard to resume her daily training regime when a colossal and familiar figure obstructed her path.

R: "... Father."

The king, Matalpalhallafaelladrapahamo Fastiel Slingeneyer, stood before her with half-opened eyes. For a figure such as himself to attend the meeting was rare enough, seeing how difficult it was to move about with the cursed restraints on him.

F: "Roberia, were you in the monthly meeting just now?"

R: "Yes. Were you planning on a visit? It ended minutes ago."

Why would her father be here, of all places? It could not possibly be a coincidence that he decided to drop by on a whim. Was this, perhaps, a guidance from Ilpoh himself? Roberia steeled herself and prepared her heart for whatever he was about to say.

F: "So I missed it... Very well, summarise for me the contents of the meeting."

Quite the contrary, it seemed that Fastiel was here to listen in on the current events, not to start a sermon. He might have caught wind of the gossip among the chamberlains and maids regarding the Venanir incident a week ago. With that in mind, Roberia gave him a brief run-down.

R: "Organised crime is suspected in Venanir, and Duke Marcyn moved out with Issemedi immediately to quell the situation. Viette pledges resources for the relief troops and promises to mobilise if a standstill persists, Anders pledges his primary armed forces and Bragante pledges thirty steeds for the peacekeeping. Gwenpete is pinned by the audit work in Ivanmeld so she can't pledge any resources. Duke Harlot is holding his own investigation into the matter, and both de Vorsche and Gracer are absent."

F: "I see. So Unthrupe will have lowered security with their forces mobilised. I don't imagine that to be the wisest choice, but I do hope Anders liaised with Harlot on that matter."

Unthrupe was the region closest to Ohde and Auser at the same time, seated right next to the borders. Thinning the defences there would render Rugnud quite vulnerable to external attacks, but if the other countries do not perceive it as an opportunity to invade, then it would be alright to simply bluff the presence of the troops.

R: "He is a great knight, but not that appropriate as a noble. He's not very far-sighted and is too impulsive, at least, relative to the other nobles."

F: "Is that so? Then, among the various nobles, which of them do you think would make for appropriate nobles in times of need?"

R: "I am in favour of Duke Marcyn, de Vorsche, and Bragante."

Fastiel flashed a brief smile, as though he heard an answer he expected.

F: "Then, who among them do you think would make for a good king?"

Was this a test? Did Fastiel mean to imply the nobles themselves, or their children? Roberia couldn't help but feel that the candidacy selection Gaza participated in was a political move. Strictly speaking, as per tradition, the candidacy selection was a free-for-all selection process for any promising fighters to receive a chance at candidacy.

In some cases, as was Roberia's current dilemma, where the age gap was the smallest between the candidate and the princess, it was almost a given for her to select the candidate. It was possible to choose from the current nobles' households, but their ages were unsuitably wide that remarriage was likely.

R: "Are you asking me to marry their children instead, father?"

F: "No. I am asking who among the current nobles do you think have what it takes to be a good king."

That was a difficult question. If she were to elect one of the nobles as the monarch, the noble had to possess the right qualities to guide Rugnud towards prosperity. Immediately, Duke Harlot and Count Anders struck her as the candidates, but both were not without their problems.

Count Anders would make for a great ruler, but his upfront honesty and disregard for long-term consequences spelled a dictatorship. On the contrary, Duke Harlot was wise, but secretive and restrained. He would make excellent decisions for his people, but without the frankness and desire for publicity that Count Anders held, the people would not associate their successes with him but with the people who worked under him. The sense of unity a country ought to have couldn't be pronounced with his opaque tendencies.

The various nobles were not without their problems. For example, Nouman who possessed the equity the other nobles lacked did not have the foresight necessary to guide the people. Count de Vorsche who favoured conquest would attempt to occupy the other countries, only to fail when confronting Rugnud's fatal flaw. If she were to select one, going by the benefits and deficits of each individual noble, there certainly was little to choose from.

R: "... I think that Grand Duke Marlot would make for a good king."

Her answer was met with a sharp glare.

F: "As much as I agree with you, I cannot associate someone of my generation with the role of king. It would defeat the purpose of replacing me, Roberia."

R: "Is there any noble you would anoint as the king then, father? You look like you have an answer."

F: "Certainly. I would anoint Issemedi as king, if I had to choose."

That was a puzzling answer. Baron Issemedi, as the next king? It was quite the difficult image to picture.

R: "What is your choice based on?"

F: "He deployed his relief troops on the shortest notice, knowing that the people's lives are of the utmost importance. He's protecting his people and restoring order, while Duke Marcyn's forces are there to ensure his relief troops can provide what the people need. He is decisive and firm in his stance to protect others at the dangers of his men, where other nobles concern themselves with the risks first. Are those not great qualities for a king loved by his people?"

Indeed, ironic as it were the youngest baron certainly did act in an appropriate manner. For all the angst he showed during the party, it was hard to imagine the baron as the most suitable candidate for kingship.

I: "Ple- please do not flatter me, Your Majesty! I would never dream of taking your throne."

From the table of foods prepared outside the meeting room, Baron Issemedi immediately prostrated himself before Fastiel. It fell upon his ancestry to manage the food and catering in the castle, and he was probably still hanging around to examine the food quality.

F: "Arise, baron. And humble yourself not, this is scarcely the first occasion of your selflessness."

I: "I am truly honoured, Your Majesty, but I would never dream of a position like that. If you would excuse me, I really must be going, my wife may enter labour at any time."

The scurrying figure left with a rather nervous and tired look upon his face. Roberia prayed for him quietly in her heart to endure his current troubles.

R: "I can see Issemedi as a king, but... He doesn't wish to be one."

Once more, her father gave a brief chuckle. King Fastiel was strangely light-hearted today, to laugh during so many occasions. Was this really her father? No, no sane human could possibly impersonate the king and his physique. But, something really was off today; for the times he laughed and gestured, the floor did not seem to ripple from the excessive power from his motions.

F: "But of course. The best people to put on a throne are those who refuse it. Are you, too, not bothered by having to succeed the responsibilities behind that seat?"

Hitting it right on the nail, a painful nerve struck!

R: "Of course I am! My childhood friend is too much of a coward to confess, my cousin wants to marry me, and Pierre Marillin being the cause of it all irks me to no end! I just... I just...!! I just, feel like burying my head in work to forget about my own problems."

F: "And succeeding the throne would force you to acknowledge those problems, wouldn't it?"

R: "Obviously! Everyone would want me to have children, and I'll have to manage so many matters that I don't even have time to-"

With a brief flick of her forehead, Roberia stagnated for a brief moment.

R: (... Huh? It didn't hurt? What?)
F: "I've heard more than enough. You pass."

What happened next was astonishing and completely unprecedented. The king of Rugnud, for reasons unknown, morphed into a winged bucket that was covered in green rust, before flapping its miniature wings and out of the castle.

R: (What the- Huh? Father doesn't know magic! It's some kind of, summoned being like a familiar! We've been compromised!!)

Roberia quickly glanced around and commanded the servants nearby.

R: "Intruder alert! Orange flag intruder alert! Get to the signal tower, it's an emergency!"

*** ***

*Cozy's Notes: Who or what could the mysterious green bucket be? What did Roberia pass? Hmm... How curious.*