Interlude 1

The seven seats of power were all filled, for the first time in years.

It was a dark chamber, but every surface was made from polished black marble inlaid with gold. Lit by a constellation of stars hovering near the ceiling, the room was dim as the night sky.

The atmosphere was oppressive, thick enough to choke anyone not seated in one of the seven chairs. But even they hesitated.

A figure at the head of the table leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath their chin. The starlight caught on ornate rings. "...Salos, you say we need to act now?"

Salos stood abruptly, scraping his chair against marble. He was gaunt, almost skeletal, with hair far too grey for his age. His robes hung loose on his frame, as though he'd forgotten to eat for weeks. 

"I can only interpret what the magic is telling me. The mana signal from Javos is creating ripples I've never seen before. The fabric of time is changing without stop."

A heavyset man to the right shifted his bulk, wobbling his jowls as he spoke. "But why in Javos of all places? The only big shots there are under our control."

"That can change in a day." A thin woman with severe features and iron-gray hair pulled tight against her skull spoke without looking up from the papers before her. "The guardian is on our side, but I doubt he will understand our vision when the time comes."

The figure at the head nodded slowly. "Indeed. We can only hope he comes peacefully. That other elf can be lured away by sending more threats to the western countries."

A female elf with wild copper hair threw her head back and laughed. "Hah! Such is the life of a heroic spirit!" She was sprawled in her seat with one leg hooked over the armrest, far less elegantly dressed than her fellow members.

The severe woman's lips pursed in disapproval. "Well, we can only manipulate them so much before they turn wary. According to current reports, she abruptly ended her mission and changed course for Novanny. That might be connected."

"Another unruly piece on our board…" The figure at the head tapped one ringed finger against the table. "But she may be important in the future. If that formationist returns one day, we'll need her on our side."

"Artorias Grifantes," Salos corrected, speaking the name with a hint of reverence. He pressed his palms flat against the table, leaning forward intensely. “His return would advance our strength greatly, but we cannot bet on such uncertainties. We need to continue the research on our own, no matter the cost.”

The severe woman's voice turned sharp. "We have already voted on this, Salos. There are limits."

“Hear, hear.” The heavyset man knocked a fist on the table, making the heavy floor shake beneath it. “Orphanages already stand empty.”

Salos slammed his fist on the table, making the others flinch. "This is why I told you we needed to start another war in Patropil. No one would notice a few thousand soldiers missing."

"The votes are final." The figure at the head's voice carried absolute authority.

Salos's knuckles went white as he gripped the edge of the table. "...Have you all forgotten what we're fighting against? There is no price too high!"

The elf kicked her leg down from the armrest and sat up, suddenly serious. "Hold your farts, Salos. Some of us still enjoy thinking for ourselves."

A spectacled young man with blonde hair cleared his throat delicately. Unlike the others, his posture was perfectly composed, almost casual in his confidence. "...I believe Charlotte is saying we've already listened to your warnings, Salos. And we have, which is why only three seals remain now."

“We need to deal with the final seals now,” Salos replied, running a hand through his wild hair. “This can no longer be delayed.”

The spectacled young man tilted his head thoughtfully. "I say we send some of the black hats to meet the guardian in Javos, so we see where he stands. I can take care of that, and save them if things slip."

"It's no big problem either way." The figure at the head gestured dismissively. "We can always send our friend to deal with it."

Charlotte's grin widened, showing teeth. "Hah, then no defenses would be strong enough."

Salos finally sank back into his chair. "Not even those created by the father of formations himself."

In the far corner, a seventh figure sat perfectly still, shrouded in shadow. They had not moved once during the entire exchange, watching everything with eyes that reflected nothing of the starlight above.

I miss you, old Turtle…

Ch.42 | Ch.43