Chapter 47

Skyler

“Let them cheer on in their delirium; ruin is yet to come.”

Mind of the Heretic, Vol. XII

Sylene stared pensively at an unknown envelope sitting queerly at her desk, appearing entirely unassuming. It was not there last night, and, certainly, nobody was allowed to enter this room, especially so at night, of her staff. Could it have been Fammir? No. Even if he knew how to write, the concept of envelopes was lost on the silly man. One of her children? None would dare so brazenly break into her chambers at night, to say nothing of the fact that she would have caught them. Despite having aged considerably, she was not a lamb for slaughter just yet; all throughout the room, and even the floor, she had set up Traces, but none of them were triggered.

She stretched out her arm and withdrew it right after, uncertain. Chances were, however, whatever was in there wasn't meant to kill her; if someone had enough skill to sneak in and leave this behind, they had enough skill to kill her in her sleep. Yet, they didn't. Why go through all these measures, however? Anyone capable of evading her Traces had to be in the upper echelon of the Principality, at least being a Child of Light – a senior within the ranks. They had more than enough moving power to meet her face to face if they needed anything from her.

Beyond that, there were plenty of backdoor channels that those less… famous could contact her through that weren't all that hard to weed out. She knew that all the answers could be found inside the envelope, relenting in the end and picking it up. Nothing happened, as she suspected. She inspected it cleanly with Light and found nothing athwart. It was just an ordinary envelope, pretty light at that.

She ripped it open and found a single parchment, folded neatly, sitting inside. It was made of ordinary paper, one you could find sold at any ordinary market, and penmanship, at first glance, appeared almost childish. On purpose? So I know their writing and they chose to mislead me?

The letter inside wasn't long, barely a few lines, but by its end, she had realized the fact that she most likely did not know the person who wrote it, as well as the reason as to why they went through so much trouble to sneak into her chambers at night and leave the letter behind rather than contacting her directly.

Lady Sylene,

Apologies for the unseeming means of contacting you but, I assure you, if there was another way, I would have used it. I have an idea to share with you – one that might make the pesky Fyrosts less opposing, and the Royal Family more understanding. It is a weapon, one that pours out the fire in an explosion, setting all its surroundings ablaze. It is made of materials yet to be known by men and women alike here, and I have risked my life in obtaining the formula for it. If you mean to reject me, report my actions and lockdown the Fort – if not, meet me three days from now at the outside pier, by the southern front. Preferably alone, but I can hardly expect it.

Yours truly,

Skyler.

Sylene stared at the letters repeatedly, reading them over and over again, trying to find something recognizable in the way it was written and worded, but to no avail. It was politely yet informally written, as though a common soldier and a court official banded together to write it. There were no words she didn't recognize or ones she knew some people liked using frequently. There was little to glean from the letter past what she had already concluded.

Materials unknown to us? It was clear to her that the person was playing up to her weakness against the concept of exotic. This, naturally, wasn't merely restricted to fruits, drinks, and foods, but also to ideas, strange trinkets, and a myriad of other things – virtually anything that arrived from Beyond the Seas. And she was interested. She was on the tilt; after all, a concept such as the material that causes massive explosions that set everything ablaze sounded ridiculous, yet, it did come from a person that managed to sneak into a Duchess’s chamber without leaving behind a single trace of their existence. Someone of such skill would hardly need to play silly tricks on an old woman that’s already relegating her powers and influence away onto her children.

Furthermore, the person in question seemed intimately knowledgeable about House Myrsells' inner workings as well as external ones. Especially the part '… and the Royal Family more understanding'. While it was more of an open secret that they didn't share an amicable relationship with the House Fyrost, few, very few people outside her immediate family knew about the strain between them and the Royal Family. Especially now, with the Holy War looming, Princes and Princesses have grown more and more overbearing in their demands for exotic goods, leaving little autonomy to the House. She could hardly rebel, as other Houses enjoyed her suffering, but it wasn’t as though she could simply give in, as that would be like inviting wolf over into the den of sheep.

Is it someone from the Royal Family? No… nobody’s this skilled, not even Evon. She continued thinking, her mind spinning like a set of gears and wheels, trying to peer past the veneer of the messenger. However, nobody, once again, came to mind. Nobody from the Principality's top cared enough about her to offer any sort of a deal like this, and, as far as she knew, there were no new players in the game that had skills like these either. Somebody from the Folkfar or the Kingdom of the Freemen? No. Those decadents can hardly afford to keep the Kingdoms from breaking out into perpetual civil wars to offer deals like these to the enemy Kingdom.

Bloodsworn? A name came to her mind but she quickly dismissed it. If she was to ever indeed be visited by someone of the Bloodsworn, she would wind up with a cut throat rather than a letter.

No matter how hard she thought, nobody came to her mind. If there was one clue, it was in the name – Skyler. It was the first time she heard that name. While hardly sounding exotic like some others she’d heard while staying in the Port, like O’kkurallwel, a name she struggled to pronounce to this day, almost five decades later, it was strange.

Deep in her heart, she had already made her choice – she would go. However, her age, and the caution that came with it, kept pestering her to reconsider. She had changed, she realized at that moment. Back in her youth, she would have flamed out if something like this happened and turned the Fort upside down in order to find the culprit. She would threaten the sky and the earth if it meant discovering the figure’s name; and, at the very least, she wouldn’t even think twice over about meeting them.

She sat back on her bed as the pesky rays of the sun washed through the balcony, folding over the canopy bed. She missed who she used to be – a figure whom the Kingdom itself feared. Even Jovyer never dared push her too hard as he knew she wouldn't take it lying down. Now? Now… she was meek. An old lady, in looks and in spirit. What of her Light? In her soul, she was no different than a common, old woman waiting for her last breath. She spends her days whisked away in daydreams, complaining day in and out about the world, but… she keeps on doing nothing. She had lost the fire, she knew, that spirit that pushed her when she was young. She had lost that chip on her shoulder – when the whole world doubted her, she set out to prove them wrong. She set out to be the best Duke, the best woman and the best man to have ever lived. It all, however, fizzled out over the decades. Nobody doubted her anymore. They deferred to her. In her content, she had mellowed out and even forgot how much she has impacted her own children.

Sighing, she put the letter in-between her breasts, her nightgown swaying lightly as the wind pierced into the room. Come alone, huh? Yesterday, such thought wouldn’t have even crossed her mind. Today, however, in a seeming delirium, she made her choice to meet him alone. Even if she died, the Duchy was set. At the very least, she mused and reasoned, she would be going out the way she burst into the world. Brave. Confident. A woman of action, rather than the pair of saggy breasts drinking wine and cursing the world all day long, praying to not wake up in the morning during the night.

Skyler, huh? She repeated the name in her mind, stretching, hunger overcoming her. You’ve piqued my interest… I do hope you live up to the sky-high expectations you’ve set for yourself… if not, you’ll be making this old lady sorely disappointed…