Chapter 77

Behind the Curtains (III)

"Sell thy soul to buy thine tools; there is no other way."

Proverbs

Advell Drath – the name that, when heard, has the Kingdom border-to-border shuddering in fear. Yet, contrary to the infernal image that the world had of him, the man himself had a rather meek appearance and countenance; though tall and broad still, he had the look of an ordinary grandfather, with faintly disheveled, silver hair and beard and a face aged, full of wrinkles reflecting years of struggle. He ate calmly, in silence, alone, surrounded by the teeming darkness. Yet, within that darkness, something shone and glistened – his eyes.

It was difficult to attribute them a color, as they had the appearance of the night's sky lit up by the endless array of stars, burning bright. Colors ranging from deep crimson, bright twilight, to holy gold all lay brushed against one another in a swirl around the black dot at the center, shining. Glowing.

Space next to him suddenly distorted, rippling out like water having been hit by a rock, a burst of blinding light suffocating out the darkness of the room. Advell, however, didn’t even flinch or react, continuing to nibble away at the felgoat’s meat.

From the blinding light, a silhouette appeared, clad in silver, stepping seemingly out of nowhere and landing squarely against the stone floor, the click of the heels signaling the arrival. She was a tall woman, appearing to be in her mid-forties with the first signs of age beginning to appear on her still-beautiful face. Long, silver hair ran down to halfway point of her back, straight and smooth, framing an oval-shaped face decorated with minimal makeup.

Her pair of eyes were strange, eerily so, a complete contrast to Advell’s – wholly black, like the bottomless abyss that the light cannot reach. Both eyes, from top to bottom and left to right, were as black as the dead of the night, as though they were carved out of their sockets and left hollow.

“Father,” she uttered in a soft, gentle voice and bowed to a full ninety degrees. “Have I arrived at a bad time?”

“No,” Advell replied in a similarly gentle and soft tone, glancing at her. “Did you look into it?”

“I have,” she nodded. “I was not able, however, confirm the validity of the rumors. It is true that the Tribes have begun converging closer together, but I saw no traces of union. At least from the limited research.”

“Did Lyndo depart for the south?" he asked.

“Yes, Brother departed a week ago,” she replied. “He should arrive in concert with the arrivals of others.”

“Have you passed on my instructions?”

“I have.”

“What about Orella?”

“She is maintaining the castle,” she replied. “Should I summon her back?”

“No, she is the best fighter we have at our disposal right now,” Advell shook his head as pulled his head back from the table, seemingly having finished his meal, leaning against the chair. “What’s the status of the Ripple?”

"Steady. Our scholars have noted a slight increase in the frequency of the deep quakes, but they suppose it is a remnant of the Mt. Kindled erupting recently."

“… ask them to double the number of checks,” Advell said after a short thought. “Work around the clock – twice every sun’s Large Movement.”

“Is it necessary?” the woman asked.

“Attribute it to my paranoia,” he replied. “This Kingdom could not withstand yet another catastrophe right now.”

“… the Lady is dead?”

“Hm,” Advell nodded. “I confirmed it this morning.”

“Ymmir?”

“He’s hiding the news from everyone for now,” he replied. “While trying to consolidate his seat.”

“Will he succeed?”

“He should; he’s a smart young man. At least, he’ll now have free reign with no daggers hiding in the shadow.”

“Won’t his ascent force other Houses to follow?”

“I doubt it,” Advell replied, shaking his head. “We are a year-and-some out before the Holy War. Forcing everyone into the early retreat would be too risky.”

“…”

“I should warn you,” Advell’s mellow tone suddenly turned serious as he looked at the woman. “Jovyer’s Shadow visited me last night.”

“His Majesty’s? What for?”

“He was superbly vague, as always,” he said. “Though, from the sounds of it, he had given away the Seraph to someone.”

“… who?” the woman’s expression darkened immediately as she asked.

“He wouldn’t say no matter how much I probed. From his implications, it sounded like he wanted us to stay to the side.”

“He is gambling the Kingdom… and telling us to stand aside?”

"Whoever he gave it to, he appears to hold reflexive respect for,” Advell said, stroking his chin. “And if he is telling us to stand aside, there must be a good reason for it. It looks he finally steeled his resolve.”

“… resolve?” the woman questioned.

“For as long as I’ve known him, and for as long as my Father had known his Father,” Advell said. “They held dreams of usurping the status quo. Tearing up the Kingdom at its roots and reviving it anew… better.”

“… how?” the woman asked, still seeming unconvinced.

“… by changing the beholders of the Crown,” Advell said. “Ending the Dynasty.”

“…”

“Don’t be so shocked,” Advell said. “That is not to say kill the Dynasty… just hand the keys of the Kingdom to someone else.”

“… does Father think it is a good idea?” she asked.

“… could be,” Advell shrugged, uncertain himself. “It all depends on who ends up claiming the Throne. For now, we’ll just observe as he asked of us. Don’t interfere with any internal disputes within Elucido; if something seems awry, it is by design… so leave it as such. If the things are turning to be more chaotic than predicted, you’ll be forced to step in.”

“… won’t the Lightbringer have issues with His Majesty’s decision?”

“Her? We’d be lucky if that woman cared enough to show up to fight the Kindled,” Advell sighed, remembering momentarily how excited the majority of the Kingdom was when she was elected – talented, beautiful, young… how many of those excited would like to rewind the time and choose literally anyone else? "For her to care about the Kingdom's politics… Sylent Desert would first have to freeze over. We’ll see, however… wait and see…”

“As always.”

“As always…”

**

Returning felt… bittersweet, Noah mused. Once again, he stood in front of the behemoth walls of the Fort, but without the intention of entering this time around. Due to the sheer number of people present, they had to set up temporary camps outside of the Fort, surrounding it from all ends. The sea of people truly was immense, so much so that a lot of the fort-natives came crawling out from within the walls just to witness the sight… and hopefully see the Princess.

As his thoughts reached her, he spun around and headed onto the plains behind the fort and its central tent – no, not even a tent, a full-fledged building that was cast out of nothing in two days. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was a genuine house. Even Noah was shocked at the speed and efficiency.

She was sitting inside her chambers, going over some parchments, when he entered, cloaked in the Dark, the guards outside none-the-wiser. He walked up and stopped next to her, looming over and peaking at the parchments. They were mostly reports from around the Kingdom, some stating another platoon of men and women is coming, some expressing their gratitude for her sacrifice…

She read them with a gleeful smile, almost like a little girl who had managed to fool her parents somehow. Proud, though not vain.

“… feels nice to be popular?” a voice startled Olivia as she nearly cried out in shock and terror, scarred from nearly ten assassination attempts on her way here. However, as the voice was extremely familiar, she held back and glanced to the side, seeing Noah pop open a bottle of wine and pour himself a cup with a smile on his face.

“… you do realize I’m sitting on the bed of needles, right?” she asked with a frown, feeling somewhat angry with him.

“That’s good; and, yet, you still failed to notice me,” he grinned. “Perhaps… you aren’t scared at all and are just pretending?”

"…" she merely rolled her eyes at him before slowly cleaning up the desk and opening up the window further, letting in the fresh air. "Did you expect such a turnout?" she asked after settling down.

“… did you?” he asked back with the patented smile.

“… no,” she replied honestly, shaking her head. “When you first told me of the plan, I thought it ludicrous. Yet… you were right. You, somehow, always end up being right. It is an enviable trait, I must admit.”

“… I’m hardly always right,” Noah shrugged, wishing that was actually the case. “Even I, for instance, wasn’t expecting so many attempts at your life. At most, I figured, there’d be a couple. Not eight.”

“… I did expect that,” she smiled bitterly, taking a sip of wine herself. “You are, I suppose, still new to this world. In some ways, I do have more experience than you.”

“… we’ll deal with that once we return.” Noah reassured.

“Is it necessary?”

“… you are asking that now?”

“… I… I get scared every time you say ‘deal with something’,” she admitted. “I don’t know why… but I do.”

“… oh, well, if you get scared of that,” Noah said. “Then we may as well leave all the people who want you dead alone. You know what? Why not go a step further and send them gifts of gratitude? They did help us, after all, by failing to kill you.”

“… yeah, I expected that as well.” She chuckled, feeling she was getting a better grasp on what kind of a person the strange Outlander was. “Will you kill them?”

“… even if I wanted to, I can’t.” Noah shrugged.

“You can’t?”

“The Kingdom is already on the fringe, Olivia,” Noah sighed. “What do you think would happen if Royal Children suddenly started dropping like flies?”

“… I can’t even imagine.”

"I can," Noah said. "And it's not pretty. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone. As much as possible, I want to avoid us getting tangled in the plots of death. It would be best if we, instead, nudge others to do it amongst themselves. You get to keep a clean conscience, and we avert the eyes away from us."

“… can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Scared?”

“Of the Fire,” she said. “Of the Kindled.”

“… being scared of things is debilitating,” Noah said. “Be wary of them, alarmed of them, but never scared.”

“… so you are confident in us winning this?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Even if I have no clue what any of this is, based on the records, we stand no chance.”

“…”

“We aren’t here to win, Olivia,” Noah said. “We are here to give the tens of thousands that would have died nameless names. And to give their otherwise hollow deaths a meaning. Don’t think of it like you exploiting their deaths for your personal benefit; a great deal of them would have died regardless of what we did. This way, however, they won’t be dying bitter and angry. They’re fighting for their home, for their families. Dying in the name of something they believe in, not because the Crown ordered so.”

“…”

“They aren’t dying for you,” Noah chuckled. “Though I admire the vanity.”

“I—”

“You are a symbol, a unifier,” he elaborated. “Nothing more. You don’t need to be anything more. Just… be their light. When they face the Fire, and when their hearts squelch and their minds freeze… and when all hope seems to vanish in the inferno… be the voice that they desperately need. The light to illuminate the murky waters of theirselves. Be their courage. You can do it. Become the symbol of the unbound, unrestrained – of the freedom, Olivia. That’s what you are fighting for, freedom. You should understand, then, what it means to be allowed to die a free soul, rather than one chained by the orders from above. This is the world we are creating, Olivia. Believe in it, just like I believe in you.”