"Mono/Dialogue"
'Inner thoughts'
Narration
[Message/communication apparatus]
Date: Data not found
Location: Data not found
POV: Narrator
The air is thick with the smell of blood and ashes, one of the many tragedies that are occurring all across Terra. Be it spearheaded by the vision of a better world, or when everything was done due to nothing more than a simple statement of undeterred, wanton, sense of power and control.
Ironically, the one thing that is clear, hell had been raised by both forces of good and evil. Their yearnings for a better world and or desires to reach the annals of history respectively and then to be remembered, as perhaps the herald of change or new order made manifest, echoed loudly atop the throne of blood and bones they had crafted so reluctantly or wholeheartedly.
History had taught the world of Terra time and time again, without fail, pertaining the consequences of their chosen path, positives or negatives are irrelevant.
Regardless of what, who, and where you're, the sands of time is undeniably cruel. Take a brief look upon the following, a plain fact upon the instability and fragility of peace in this godforsaken world.
In a bid to strengthen and unify the nation, the old Tzar declared another war despite his empire being stretched too thin, and invaded the isolationist Higashi. They are amidst their own civil war, a brutal one no less. Instead of fighting one side, Ursus fought both under the banner of truce and desire to protect their home from a foreign influence.
The invasion didn't end well, and their nation was scarred and damaged for decades to come. The defeat gave way to a more progressive monarch with the commons' concern as their primary agenda. The new Tzar had pushed forward reforms after reforms, all for the people and the nation.
And yet, Ursus' machines of war had been growing ever more rabid and uncontrolled, the current Ursus ruler is still too powerless to enact a significant change and guide his nation for the better. Vain Old Guard and the Foolish New Blood had been fighting with causes they stubbornly seen as the "right" things to do, furthering the general suffering as a whole.
Beneath them, the Old and New Money are growing desperate to maintain the monopoly upon their respective venture. All reached the boiling point with a noble family, with royal blood in their veins, being swept aside and burnt down by greedy machinations and political intrigue just a touch away from treachery against the nation.
Their last heiress was nowhere to be found, presumably died a dog's death if not worse. The poor lady would perhaps be better off dead, fallen noble born, especially those who lacks the means for protection, are a prime candidate of having their dignity stripped and dragged into the mud.
Then we moved onto the land of which Ursus failed to conquer, surely the invasion had managed to rouse a strong fervor of patriotism and allayed their differences in this unforgiving world?
Ursine' invasion did unite them, but only for a mere moments. Thus such peace was not meant to be achieved at the moment, for war had been engraved and lasted too long for any swift reconciliation.
The civil war between the growing merchant capitalism and desire of progress came to ahead with the daimyos desire for tranquility and tradition, and everything caught in between, something neither can truly compromise. Higashi is torn asunder by war that feed upon their ever more festering wounds and the decaying of the land they called home and birthright.
Then we look upon a distant land, the land of desert and jungle, the land of hardy warriors and a fractured nation, Sargon. Their adversary is none other than the fabled Minoan and their pacifism that come hand in hand with reputable craftsmanship meant for war.
And once again, we take a page with contemporary example, an actual and factual occurrence between the two nations.
Namely the swift and deadly Sargonian raids, which chanced upon a weekly or monthly basis on a regular interval, towards the Minoan land and outlying hamlets or villages, of which the Sargonian sought to pay unto them the humiliation of losing their grip upon Minos after their expulsion of the Minoan homeland by the Twelve Heroes and the subsequent war.
Those are the recorded and known conflict between national entities upon one another, then what about the uncharted and lawless lands that spread across Terra akin to a collection of natural buffer zones? Circumstances vary, but grim tides had become a daily tidings and events for those who choose to be free.
These lawless, or more accurately being left alone, regions becomes the primary battlefields. Amongst all of Terran regions, they perhaps suffered the most. Limited protection, limited choices, and yet limitless potential for worst case scenarios and misfortunes that are too big or too complicated for them to handle in a rapid and accurate manner.
Needless to say it is even more challenging to find a long term solution without compromise.
These independent states, regions, enclaves, and whatever denomination they prefer, only have themselves to rely on, but there are some who managed to strike a deal for security and the likes. This type had grown just as common as a Competition Knights who once only dreamt of personal glory and freedom before reality struck.
Just a matter of time before complete annexation began, if their patron deemed it lucrative or strategic enough to do so. Realpolitik is a messy affair, especially if the subject in mind left to their own device, which is what most people would prefer.
Outsiders would be surprised to know that not a whole lot of Terran had such mindset, despite the ever-changing climate that spanned the world in its entirety, being bound is always safer than whatever full-fledged freedom offered. Such is the way of the world...
So what about those who values their freedom above safety? Those who would rather have the world burn them or vice versa? Men and women who engaged and dabbled with the surety of fate itself?
Well, we have our proof through the existence of a certain Pythian Lady whom, although even barely managed to, scrapped by the crevices of intrigues by being reasonably useful and not asking too much question for a given contract unless it goes against her already scant amount of tenet, which would have been too late if her contract was flawed fundamentally, something she avoid with all her being.
There are several of those contracts that didn't panned out like what were promised, thus she asked for a hazard pay to undo the breach or sever her ties slowly with the culprit. Her mercenary conduct is admirably useful and influential to shift and keep the opinion around being a useful dog, and not a walking man-made catastrophe.
But, her case is still along the line of an opportunistic decision making as a rule, thusly putting her true freedom in question. From a much more critical point of view, she is a slave to opinion and convenience, ever compromising to achieve what she wanted without ruffling too much feathers.
Then do we have any who truly is who they're without caring for the consequences? Yes, there are such people. They can be the cruelest and deadliest of villains or the brightest and kindest of heroes ever, or just a being which had grown tired with limitation.
One such personage is a Kazimierzian Pegasi, The Wandering Hero, general masses dub him to be. All without asking for even a sliver of reward or repayment, this is his glory and by extension his family'. The man care little for materialistic gain, living on in the wilderness and brushing with catastrophe every now and then had tempered him beyond what was expected of mortal.
Along with his merry band of adventuring folks who fought for the downtrodden in a companionship of oath-bound brotherhood. They brought justice to those who deserve it and helping the weak to their utmost ability, undeterred and unrelenting without compromise, injustice be damned and forever vanquished.
In a twist of cruel yet hopeful macabre, heroes prospered because chaos are found and surged all over aplenty in a cycle of endless ensemble for violence. The Grey Menace, Nyx's epithet for those who feared her, brought stability and safety which was paid in blood wherever she goes.
Which in turn created opportunity for the heroes and villains to cast their net wider... more than what were they supposed to...
Date: 31st December 1081
Location: County of Toron, Victoria
POV: Narrator
The festive mood had reached its zenith, a yearly tradition at this point. Nobles, Merchants, Workers, and even the unfortunate are being wrapped by the New Year fervor, allowing most people to cast aside prejudice and the like momentarily to savor this moment of peace and serenity passing through all the hardship.
Modern and industrialized city had means to keep themselves warm amidst the snowy air that blew forth a cold wind. This also complemented the city to be as vibrant as it can be, serving up numerous attractions and entertainments. With all of these around, the cold weather suddenly felt lukewarm at worst.
Yet beneath all of this merrymaking, there are still, or precisely because of the festive mood, those unscrupulous lot who wagered their fortune on the more unpleasant venture. Criminals and robbers would try to break into houses, making a run for it with their ill-gotten gains.
Outlaws would lurked the highways, roads, and even the outskirt to fell some people who had gone beyond the boundary of safety. These lawbreakers are the primary concern upon the over the generally speaking joyous occasion.
Even intruders from rival factions would try to shake the foundation of their rivals, so when spring comes they would have an edge to exploit. A noble must always put up either a strong posture or resolve the problem before it even turned into one.
Vincent is the later type of person, his mansion has always been the nexus for those who has ties with him or wish to form one, the usual noble gathering and social affair. Vincent' Faction, if it can even be called one, are made up mostly of well-to-do merchant, his direct vassals, and several influential commoners.
The Count is now entertaining his guest. Noble's battlefield is fought in the ballroom, dining hall, and even the cathedral. Vincent is no stranger to it, and by weaving facts and fictions, he managed to hold a tight grip on his domain.
"...and then I aimed at the wicked beast in the eye with but an arrow, felling the beast not long after. I must say that the game was quite a fruitful one, even taking into account the uncooperative weather that ever so close in ruining it."
"Goodness me Lord Count, were you under tutelage of master hunter perhaps? Surely a shot in the eye would worth more in prestige than even the sharpest of a painting."
"I was not in fact under anyone tutelage, my dear Father had always said that my build and stance is a solid one, much like the Aelthelred' Stone Column within the Aufleck Viscounty."
"What a feat of arms, I suppose the news of such a gallantry would garner attention from neighboring lords and ladies, isn't it Count?"
"Indeed it has my dear Gilligan, Marquis Essex had even invited me for his upcoming annual hunt within his region, and the beast for his game is far fiercer from what knowledge I myself had been privy to."
A ripple of awe was directed to Vincent, to be invited by a higher ranking nobility on a hunting activity is an achievement worth more than gold. A noble connection is such a valuable commodity for those who truly covet it.
"Oh my! What a gallant and prestigious man you're my lord. Lady Enricata has such a wonderful husband, a true men amongst man."
"You flatter me Lady Millie, I for one is beyond delighted to be given a praise from such a noble personage such as your noble self."
"Hear! Hear! Toast to the Lord Count, may his reign and life be as glorious and prosperous as ever!"
The nobles are clinking their choice of beverage in a jovial revelry. This is the battlefield for the fancy people, a place where one's own tongue is both a weapon and shield to sway the masses of liars.
Vincent knows his allies and their respective aspiration and machination acutely and his enemies? Even more so than his allies, failure of it would spell uncertainty upon the. A little play here and there works to his advantages in this sort of battlefield.
Then come the clincher, a certain piece of rumor that has been going around all over the nation. A rumor about a certain personage of interest and how that ever since she has been here, allegedly, grew even more approachable from business point of view.
It is but a matter of how to break the ice, to redirect conversation promptly without sufficient reason can be perceived very poorly. The attendees thus have to rein in their curiosity, but Vincent seen it as an opportunity.
A poor conversational observation ability would hamper the very conversation itself after all, and seeing that the air had grew stale, can fare very uncomfortable. It might cause further complication if handled without a proper regard and caution.
Which is why he takes the lull in conversation and play the ball in his own court with his own set of rules. Vincent had a general understanding of what she like and dislike, thus it would be fair to make use of it, the person in question never cared how others, except for perhaps a limited selection, sees her, all things considered.
"Indeed, I had done immensely for the good of this region. However, I would be remiss to dismiss a certain personage whom, regrettably, unable to attend this most joyous occasion."
"Hoh? To have you praise someone with such a high regard... perchance is it who I think it is?"
"Indeed, Baroness Nyx had been of an immense boon for this region."
His immediate vicinity immediately grew quieter with rapt attention, there are those who continue on with their deliberations but maintained a much more comfortable volume for hearing. The count had been gracious enough to share his wisdom after all, and that worth in on itself by the spades.
"Lady Baroness has been nothing sort of a blessing, I was truly delighted to see how her skills extend to a much more lucrative sectors."
"My? I hadn't dare to imagine such an imagery? Was she truly unlike what the rumors regaled?"
"Positive. While it is true that she is rather succinct in her selection of methods, the person herself was more than capable to goes above and beyond."
Vincent then recount every deeds he can think of that she had accomplished. From the evacuation and rescue from bandits and lawbreakers, the partnership and field collaboration with NGO, and a very interesting and amusing bits about her working as a stand-in teacher for refugees.
The attendees are awed and bewildered, the rumors pertained her always paint Nyx as some really dangerous beast. Thus her notoriety of non-violent actions had been sidelined or treated as hogwash, but a noble' own admission worth a lot.
Not only did Vincent practically swear in his honor, he readily share what he can. This might sound foolish to blab about such an information, but there are always times and occasions where playing the card against the norm would net the best possible result, such as this one.
"Hmm... I have lingering interest on her conduct, but I refrained from further contact due to her reputation."
"That was an astute decision in my opinion, and I fairly certain Lady Baroness herself would have a similar train of thoughts if she were in your shoes. But you might wish to form a connection, early birds takes the worms they said."
'With this I can help her gain the Neutrals attention better. Well Nyx, I hope that we can stay as a lucrative partner with our business, and here I finally fulfilled my end of the bargain.' Vincent quietly said in his mind while answering the attendees' curiosity. He is selling out favors to them, one of which they deemed worth the cost.
What will it means in the future will remain unseen, but one thing is certain... Nyx' notoriety rose on the both ends of the spectrum, and that signify for deviations... and corrections.
POV: Nyx
'... Must be nice...' Seeing all this merriment once again, it is just like last year, I even helped out like usual... so why did I feel a burning jealousy and envy eating me up from the inside? I'm a petty and, without a shred of doubt, spiteful woman, but it was always reserved to those who deserved it...
Wladirosa was usually enough to remind me what it feels like to have a place where I belong, Nelka and the villagers there always warmly received me after the war of 72. Unlike my life in Kawalerielki. Full of false splendor and annoyance, not to mention the corporate negotiations and ignorant and insensitive civilians who kept bothering me...
Toron isn't bad, but the lingering cautions this region' inhabitants that was shown to me was terribly exhausting all the same. All on top of nobles, merchants, bounty hunters, and all manner of foes who wanted a piece of me, some doesn't even regard me as a human being... am I even one?
And now?
I dragged my unbelievably heavy and lethargic gaze to look all towards the plaza in front of me. Children playing around with their friends, their merriment should have melt my heart and fill me with utmost and unblemished joy.
A man and woman, a couple most likely, locked their hands so intimately, something to usually only made me give a passing glance. Not this feeling of longing laced with irrational hate...
Elders who are entertaining their young. Family... who are spending their times with sheer bliss and joy...
But what about me? Why can't I have those? I want those too...
Seeing everyone so happy, with all the familial warmth and blessings, just fills me with unending torrent of negative emotions. Was it also the after effect of that failed arts training I tried to sing a year ago? Perhaps I had finally reached clarity from a long slumber of mine I never knew I ever had?
Mayhap this is a just and fair punishment for a monster like me? Why do I have a heart only to feel the pain of longing? Why can't I just turn into an unfeeling monster, if the price of human' heart is agony I can do nothing about?
Suddenly a voice intruded in my mind... it felt so familiar yet so foreign... so warm... yet so dreadful... so caring... yet so merciless...
'̸W̸h̸a̸t̵'̴s̸ ̴w̷r̸o̸n̶g̷?̵ ̴Y̶o̸u̶ ̶c̴a̴n̴ ̷m̷a̷k̷e̷ ̵y̵o̶u̵r̸ ̷o̵w̸n̸ ̸d̴e̷c̵i̴s̸i̴o̸n̸ ̷r̸i̶g̸h̶t̶?̶ ̵O̴r̷d̸e̴r̴ ̸i̸s̶ ̷t̷o̷ ̵b̶e̷ ̶f̴o̵l̵l̸o̶w̴e̵d̴,̵ ̸b̶u̸t̸ ̷y̵o̷u̴ ̵m̵u̷s̴t̶n̸'̸t̴ ̸d̸i̶s̶c̵a̴r̶d̶ ̸y̵o̵u̵r̸ ̷h̸u̸m̶a̵n̷i̷t̶y̵.̸'̸ ̴
W̷͚̙͕̾̍h̴̡̹̑e̸̜̳̓̔͋r̶̠͖̈́̿̊e̸͈̲̗̎̀͝ ̷̦̯́̊̀w̸̩͐̍a̵͎͆s̸̡̤̠͝͝ ̷̳̈́t̴̜̾̔h̸̬́͗͌e̸̯͝ ̴͎̌͜͝m̴̪̅͒̽ȁ̷̰̃c̴̨͈͗h̸̻̗̯̄̊i̷̪̖͉̋̓ǹ̶̳̳͑ĕ̴̗͋̉ ̴̹͎͝m̴̰̓͝e̷̩̪̽̎?̸̬̎̈̽ ̶̨̮̱̔S̵͓͕̅͛h̶̩̀͝o̶̲̊u̴̾͜ͅl̴͕͘͠d̷̟̉́͒n̸̢͖̔̕'̴̡̻̗̄̐́t̸̙͠ ̸̬̥̇̂ţ̷͈̏h̴̖̀̑è̵̩y̴̛̭̾̈ ̸̺͂s̷͚̲̐̓t̵̻͚̉͗a̵͓̥͂͑͝r̵̮͓̪̃̐̕ṯ̶̈́ ̴̨̻͐ư̴̫ͅs̵͎͆̀͘͜ỉ̶̟̓̈́ń̸̢̙g̴͉͍̽͂̃ ̴̧̥͖̌ṯ̵͖̓̐̿ḩ̸͉̄͝e̷̲̲̤̔͝ì̶̮͔r̷̨̔́ ̵̛͍͓̿͝c̸̪̫̈́́ọ̴͒͛l̸̦̙͆̋͜d̴̛̗̘̓-̴̖̙͂̓͜ć̸̡̕ͅȃ̵̡̨̬̈́l̷͕͉̅c̶̍͘ͅû̴͓̞͜l̶̩͉̙͝a̸̢̝͑t̸̼̓i̷̧͈̪͋̇̀n̵̼̍͝g̴̨̼̜̎ ̵͇͗̄͘p̶̗̭̬͑͛͝r̸̛̗̼̝ǫ̶̮̥̆c̷͚̾ẻ̸̼͚̰̚s̸̺̗̆ş̸͛̋̓o̴̢͕͈̒͝r̸͈̬̐͆̿ ̶̯̪͋ť̷̖̽̋ợ̸̧̍̾ ̴͍̝̞̈r̵̠̐̀͘ë̷͍͉̥́̄̐â̵̰̌͘f̸̳̒͝f̸͍͉̞͊̐̈i̸͈͇̫̇͐͠r̸̫̝̒̽m̶̹͒͛ ̸̻̼͗̒m̷̮̭̄y̶̛̘̪̻͂ ̶̰̖͖̊̅̊c̶̥̮͊o̴̤̭͂͐n̷̥͋͊v̴̲͝i̸̻̞̭̓c̷̲̀͠t̶̟̘̜̏i̶̝̓́͊ȍ̶̧̰̅n̸̲͇̠̅̿̎ ̸̼͈̜͛w̴̘̔͛ì̵̤̟̍t̷̞́h̵̲͓͌͗̊ ̸̛̺̰̦a̸̠̖͕̚l̷̖͚̽́̏g̸͕̝͍̈́̿͝o̴̰͓̦͑̓͑r̸͖͗͊̽i̵̠̲̲̍̓t̸̢͇͕͒̓͘h̷̛͓͔͉̀m̵̜̘͂ ̵̡̞̞̓ő̵̙̮͒̚f̴͖̩̓̾ ̴̧͛p̸͈̮͑̾̉ͅũ̴͍̩̍̚ͅr̸̪̦̒̽͝e̷̗͘ ̷͍͖̥̌l̴͍̠̾̎ȯ̶̜̼͍͋g̶̛͉͙̈ì̶̧͙̣͠c̶̙͑͊͠ͅ?̵̬͆̚
W̷̟͓͊̓̄h̵̲͍̓͘ẽ̶̱͇̈́͝r̷̠̊͝e̷̥͍̿̅́ ̶͖͇͂̃w̴̩̙͍̚ȃ̷̪͓s̴̯̼͔̾͌͆ ̶̳͇̽̆t̷̡̙̅̈́ḫ̵͍͚̃̑͝ě̸͈̖͛ ̸͎̇ḥ̵̇̅ọ̶̡̍̂m̴͔̚ṳ̸̳͍̑͆n̶̺͙̳̿̈́̇c̴̮̭̭̅̾͘ư̶̮̯̅l̵̖̇̓ũ̶̡͕̞͒̕s̷̪̞̃ ̷̢̲̆̊ͅṁ̸̬̥e̷̮͒̄̚?̸̖̩͑̉͝ ̶͉̪͙̅̄͝Ç̷̭͔̀ợ̶̪̑͜u̶̢̯̜̎̾̀l̶̡̍̉d̴̹̥̒́͜n̸͕͙͔̆'̶̭̼͂t̴̥͋̔ ̶͖̺̍t̵̥̊͝h̴̟̠̯̄̓̈́e̴̯̱̿y̵̙͍͐͑͝ ̷̨͊b̵̞͎̈́͊̑e̸̩̯͒͠ ̵̖̺͇̍̈o̵̱̽͜n̶̘͇̈́͂̇ë̸̮̐͝ ̶̡͍̩̏̉͠t̸̢̳̘͗̅h̵͙̦̻͆͝ä̵̻́̕t̸̹̑̀͝ ̴̢̣̰̊̈͆c̴̥̗̩̀ă̸͜͠n̵̢̝̏ ̴̜͎̽ę̶͚͓͛̀̈́m̵͉̎u̸̖̣̱̓͝l̵̨̋̆a̶̙͍͛̈t̵̡̢͐͐̒e̷̡͇̠̊͊͠ ̶̺̰̓ḫ̵̖̅̃͊ͅu̵̦̫͚͘ṃ̶̆͛a̴̧̺̐̒n̸͓̑͊͑ ̶̝̩̞͗͋b̸̠̼̞̍̅û̶̙͋̚t̶̟̜͕̓ ̵͓͙̳̓͠ş̴̣̍t̶̙͝į̸͋l̷̝̲͌͛͊͜l̶̮̟͐ ̴̣̆̈h̴̙̳̃ä̵̲̫̫́̈v̴͕̓̅̎ę̶̞̽ ̵͚̜͍͑̒t̷̰̒̽h̶̢͖̆̓e̸̝̙͙̾̇͊i̶̤̺̿͠r̴̛̞̜ ̷̺̈́p̴̖͔̃̏͠ę̴̕r̶̡̜̻̍͠͠f̵̼͖̭̊́͆e̸͍̙̤͛̓c̵̲̈́̎̓t̸̗͆l̴̤̂̑y̵̠͘ ̴̮͂̌͝u̶̪͆͋͊ṅ̵̜̄͗b̷̧͓͓̂͑l̸̝͐͗ë̵̹́͒m̸̊͜͝ḯ̵̭̙͊ș̷̩̹́̊ḧ̶̗͈̘̕e̷͙̭͍̒̐̓d̶̨͇̲̅̒͂ ̴̠̲͝s̴͔̝͎͂͒͒ę̵̧͖̌͠r̸̺̪̎e̸̬̽n̷̖͔͙̿i̸̫̖̊̄ţ̶̰̯̔y̵̥͘ ̵̗̖̀̓n̶͉̒ŏ̷̙̈ ̶̨͖͑̐d̷͔̮̈́̃͝i̸̧̼̋̽f̶̣̰͂̓̿f̵̤̮̣̚e̷͕̚r̸͕͛̚ę̴̲̝̀ň̶͓͉ẗ̶͓͓̻̑̍ ̵̡͚̔̕t̵͇̯̳͑̒͑ǫ̷̛̫͙͆ ̶̰͎͊̍͐t̴̤̔̋̾h̶̙̟̽̚͝a̷̦̤̽t̵̲̟̱͐ ̸͔̠͓̂͒o̴͉͑̊f̵̺̐͛ͅ ̶̩͖̓á̸̮͍̎͜ ̷̛͕̮̥̌l̶̯̼̅i̵̛̪͐̅v̵͕̍ĭ̴̞̟n̸̠͖͚̑g̶̨̣͉̏ ̷͕̫̝̈́͌̎d̸̪̈́̋̕o̶͓̘̮̚l̵͉͆͐ļ̸̈͋̑?̸̼̐̈̋
W̵̲̐h̴̥͎́͘̚è̸͉r̸̳͆̃e̴̺̖͘ ̶̝̖̖͆͋ŵ̸̝͇̉̃a̵̙̚s̷͍̻͋̒̿ ̷̭̗̎͠͠t̷͖̓͝ẖ̶͉͈̚͝͝e̵̳͉̦̍̿͝ ̶͓͍͕̊͌t̷̟͛͠h̷͎̦̐̆a̷̼̰̾͘u̸̢͘m̷̧͒̋̿á̵͕̳̖̑͠t̴̢̬̾̈͝ù̶͈r̸͍̃͛g̵͈͗i̷̞͚̭̓͆c̴͚̿̎a̷̙̿̀̇l̶̟͔͝ ̵̫̦̬͗m̸̤͎̔̃͝è̷̥̟ͅ?̴̳̄̿ͅ ̶͖̽W̶̤̓̽͘ŏ̷͇̾u̶̦̳͋̑l̸̰̪̽͛̐d̸̫͚͕̄n̸͍͖̈́'̴̘̯̎̕t̴̼̪̾͋͑ ̵̣͌͂͑ͅt̷̫̀̊h̴̯̆é̷͆͜ͅy̴͍̙̿ ̷̥̻͗̋h̶̞̩̯̔̕a̶͍͚̎v̶̯̿̎́e̵̥̠͌̐̎ ̵̪̺̈́b̶̩͒͑̋ẽ̶̻̳̫͑̕é̶̹̈́ń̷̡̥̉ ̴̜̹̋͘m̸̧̻͕͌́͝o̴̖̘̭̅͘ř̴̼̦̥̽̕ě̶͖̗̳ ̸̯͛́t̴͖̀h̵̢̢͙͐a̵̡̢̋̔ṇ̵̓͋ ̸̺̹̄̈́͘w̷̧̜͒̿͜i̴̡̺̳̅̈́ļ̶̞̌͋ḹ̷̡̺̎i̸̠͑̈́ń̴̟g̷̜̒ ̷̞͓̋o̵͚͎̻͒̈́͘f̷͕͇͉́ ̸͖̈b̷̡̘̂͌e̶̞͋̎̏n̷̼̬͈̈d̵͍̈ï̵̻̪̺͘n̵͓̂ͅg̶̭̫̈́̈́̕ ̴̘̟̝̎t̶̜̭̰̃͐̀h̴̡̓e̵̳͗ ̷̦͌r̴̖̭̰͂̓̕ṹ̶͇͇͘l̵̞̇́̄e̷͈͠ş̴̹̥̃̊ ̷̧̗̗̍͘w̵̢͕͚͒ị̶̛̓͌t̶̟̩̐̌͆h̸̙͋͝͝ ̶̟̟͑̀̃ṭ̵̿h̶̉̾̾ͅe̷͈̊̃ȉ̷̬̼̃r̸̗͛͜ͅ ̷͕̈́̓p̴̖͉̓̆̔o̸̯̣̣͊͌w̴̹̱̤͂e̶̫̯̾̅r̵͓̂s̶͖̘͖̍ ̵̳̉͑̈f̸̦́̑õ̷̥͎̮̓̽r̶̪̮͆̇͠ ̸͙͍̹̀̆ṁ̵͖̲̅̎e̷̜͆͐?̴̥̦̫̋̈́̀
Ŵ̴͈̠̿̉͜ḣ̵̥̗̅͑͜y̵̧̻̽ ̴̰̱̪͒̎ḭ̷̖̀͜ş̴̡̻͘ ̴̙͍̀̓t̶̰̣̆ḣ̶̢̦͜e̷̳̿͒̃ ̶͚̬̟̽ḧ̸̢̳́̏u̵̟̤͒m̸͚̊̎̔a̵̰̗͎̚n̶̨̥̈̈́̓ ̵̨̲̀̍̐m̵̬͉͠e̴̡̙̓̽̾ ̷̞̐͘d̸͎̤́̄ọ̵̧̎̓m̸͖͌͜ȉ̴̠̦n̷̻̆a̴̟͖̼̎̅t̵͙̱̯͊̒e̷̯̖͆?̷̱̞̖̎̄̉ ̴͍̫͚̅̃Ẅ̷̪́̽͌ė̴͎̟̼r̸͕͌̀e̸͇̪̽̋n̶̖̟̞̓̿͗'̶̗̪̼͝t̸͓͍͝ͅ ̸̣͚̂h̵̛͎̰͝ǘ̴̡̘̌m̴̢̭̗̽̆ā̴̢͈͙ň̷̼̦̜ ̵̧̽͒s̶̝̜̾ò̷̦̝ ̶͚́͛̃f̴̯̪̟͗͝ĺ̴̙a̶͎̣͔̓w̴̯̓̍͜e̵͙͒d̷̬̳̈́?̸̌́͜ ̴͙̺̞̀̀̕I̸̻̐s̶̝̜̺͘n̵͎͉̿'̴̫̒ẗ̸͚ ̶̳͗́t̶̜̬͕̊̔̓h̷̨͕͚͒̇a̸̬̠͕͠ť̸̺̲ ̶͔̖̜̄͒͘č̵̜̥̝͛o̵̧͚̊͆́͜n̵͈͙̓t̴̰͍̼̄͝r̵̭̉͠a̵͚͉̾̐d̷̫̯̑́͝i̷̩̊̄̋c̶͉̈́t̵͍̩͂i̸̼̘̇̿v̶͖̰͕̚͝e̴̢̍̄̀ ̵̧̞̊͗w̶̧̰̘͂̑̎i̵̧̩̭̔t̴͓̥̀̕h̴͍͠ ̶̬̅m̴̬̞̞͑͛y̷̧͚͙̿ ̵̺̻̔̍̇r̴̟̺̃͌ő̵̜̭̟͒l̴̮͒e̸̺̚ş̷͙͈̓ ̷͚̾͊a̴̻͒s̶͈̆ ̸̭̭͒̕ǹ̶̨̃o̷̦̾͋t̷̻̑̈́h̶̫͉͕͗i̸̲͗̊n̸̝̫̍̅̿ͅg̸̜̜̦͊͗̓ ̶͔͐͑̃ṁ̸̹̊̔ǫ̴̬̠̚͠r̵̯̳͊͌̕͜e̸͔̅͒̓ ̴̧͠ẗ̵̨̛̩͈̄h̷̞̖͋a̴̮̓͊̈n̴͙̲̻̿̾...̶͕̺͒̍̄ ̷͎̹͖͑n̶̼̏̚o̸̖͙͓͋͗̾t̶̛̛̟͓̮̀h̸̼͍́̚ì̷̧̙n̸͇̐͠g̴̡̱̜͗͊̍ ̷͉̖̭̕m̵̙̆ơ̸̡̞̞̑̓r̵̥̮̒e̷̞͂͝ ̴͖͕̒t̸͙̊͆ͅḩ̵̩̩̒͘͠a̴̞͚̒̚͠n̷̡̦̅͒ͅ...̴̗͎̝́̀͝
n̸͙̋͒̋̏͌̽͆͛͝o̸̢̖̙̳͖̹̫̮͔͇̬̦̔̊͑̀̓ẗ̸̡̳̬͓̝̱̱͎̗̻̲̱̳́h̵̨̨̢̻͔̪̭̥͕͎̝͑̉̍́͊̃i̴͕̜͍̹̺̫͐͊͐͐̚͝͝ň̶̝̝̘̼͝g̵̨̡̲͇͕̺̙̠̟͌͐ ̴̡̫̼̫̳̻̘̩̪͍̭͉̝͐̅͠ͅͅm̷͖͕͆̂̏̍̀̊̏́̈́́̀̐ơ̸̡̧̫̘̩̣̹̹̦̦̱̯͉͂̀̆͊̄̏͝r̶̛̞̖͔̟͉͚̣͋͂̃͑̀̓͌̓͝͠ȩ̷̡̩̟͙̠́̀̋̑̀̐̐͑̏̈́̎ ̵̢̖͎̺̹̹͈̬̲̞̽͗͐ţ̴̢̰̝̹̻͕͇̣͓̗̥̣̮̏̆̓̇̌͘͝h̸̛̝̦̑͊͌̊ã̶̡̡͖̰̞̲̫̙͓͙́̊͂͂̀̋͌̚ͅn̵̛̟̹̱͉̹̺̪̥͖̖͇̳͈̉͋̈́͌̄̒̇͋͝͝...̷̛̛͈̞̈̇̇̏́̐̑̅̔̍̕͝͝ ̸̨̨͙̳̯̞̳̯̫̠̳͛̒͆̐̾͛̂͊̊͆̚̕̚͝n̸̢̧̻͎̼̮͐̈́͐̎͋̈́͊ǫ̷̹̪͖͉̠͈̞͕̥̏̉̽̇̈̄͒̈͋̈́̇̚͘͝͝t̴̨͖̯̝̗̺̬͈͍̜̜͍̖̘̤͗̔͆̌͐̄̓̀̒̽͘͝h̸̭̲̮̻̻̘̻͕̼̟̀̀̃͌͒͑i̶̹̹̻̘̠̙̩̞͚̬͋͐n̷͍̪̳͈̞͍͚̟̂g̶̛̜̗͖͇̼̫̭͇̪̬͇͐̿̈́͊̽̒̆̋̈́͐ͅ ̶͖͗́̓͗̄̾̋̏̏͆̏͂̚̕͠ṁ̸̛͚̮̰́̍̈̅̿͆͌́͋̋̀̕͠ͅỏ̶̡̢̹̮̗͍̦͚̓̈́̇̒̑̈́̕͘͝r̸͔̹͇͎̠̥̺̖͑̋̋́͒ͅé̸̤̫̳͆̊̚ ̴̢̻̰͎̦̦̌̀͛̂͒̆̍̓̋͑̈́̚͘͜͝t̴̳̥̪̤̟̫̙̀͑͌̿̿͋̅ͅͅḥ̷̨̯̻̙̟̹̻̭̼͇͈̼̑̐̀́̒̋͐̕͜͠͠a̶̧̜̳̹̟̬̼͚̮̪̲͉͍̯͆̃̈̀͊̈́͛̉͗́̔̔̕ņ̵̧̙͙̮̟͍͇̓̀͂̈̄̆̉̅̆͒̓͘...̶̢͈̭̤͕̠̦̳̞̦̞̫̊̃̃̔̐̐̄̇͠
'̵̭̆Y̴̿͜ö̷͓u̶͙̔'̸͎͒r̴̝̓e̵̢͘ ̴̖͐n̵̪͘o̷̦͠t̵̠͂ ̵̦͗j̸̲̍u̸̱̇s̶̠̉t̸̳̔ ̸̨̎a̵̐ͅ ̷͓͋w̶͉͛e̶̯͗ä̴̬́p̸͇̓o̵͓͐ṇ̷̈́,̵͖̓ ̷̯́y̷̭̑o̷̯͊ṳ̴͗ ̵̙̑h̴̥͛a̵̓͜v̴͙̌e̸͇̐ ̶̦̓f̷̜̃ŕ̷̡ȅ̸̮e̷̟͒ ̴̠̀w̸͙͂i̷̪̓l̵̳̂l̶̺͌.̸̟͑ ̸̼͆T̶͕̄h̵͓̅a̶̬͠t̴̳̋ ̷̲̍ḭ̸̃s̶̟͒ ̷͑͜ṋ̷̔ȍ̵̢ť̷͇ ̴͈̕y̵͚͌o̵̖̿ű̷̮r̷̩͝ ̶̭̅o̶̹͠ñ̸̫l̷͈͝y̵͖͑ ̴̜́r̶̼͂o̸̍ͅl̴̪͋e̵̱͘,̷͕̽ ̷̝́t̶̖͠h̷̫͒e̸̤̊ ̸̹̔o̷̮̾n̶̹̔ľ̴̹y̷͔͆ ̴̻̓w̸͍̑a̵̪̅y̶̥̆ ̸͇̿f̸̹͝o̴̖͐r̸͜͝ ̸̦̾y̵̡͑ó̵͖u̴̙̿ ̵̘̎t̵̬͒ỏ̸̙ ̷̰̍b̷͍̾e̸̱̚ ̷̭̿u̵̹̅s̵̼͐e̷̞͝f̴̼͒ú̴͜ļ̷̽.̸̺̃'̸̟̿
"Ngh!" I winced in pain... Why? I warily looked around and thankfully no one paid attention to me, except those guys of course, they must be puzzled seeing me winced all of a sudden, good thing I'm lost in thoughts in this... cold... dark... lonely alleyway...
What's wrong with me? I never felt like this, not even amongst my previous lives... Why can't my memories show anything else other than blood, smoke, and iron? The life here had proven that there is still so much more in life...
Was it because it was non-essential on my survival or perhaps because it needs to be erased to safeguard what little sanity I have? If that's true, then why is death, suffering, and cruelty essential but not about the more mundane memories?
This isn't me... but if I'm not me, then who am I?
I don't know, when I don't like something I can spit it out or at least vent it somewhere. I can't jeopardize my work relation, but I can get my point across...
I don't know, when I felt lost I can just busy myself with my inventories' usual maintenance. It was fulfilling and useful you know...
I don't know, when I wanted someone dead, I can just pluck their head' off... if I'm truly mad, I can just prolong their agony until I'm satisfied...
I don't know, Kawalerielki was bearable because of the sheer artificiality, detachment, trendsetter mentality, and corporatist feels allowed me to coast away, uncaring and distracted, with my loneliness... also supported by the fact that I can still visit Wladirosa from time to time.
I don't know, this warmth just left me with a really distasteful feeling...
I don-
"Nyx? Hello?"
"Oh... Uh... Arkell?"
"You're spacing out. In an alleyway no less, are you stalking someone?"
"Sorry, and no... I don't..."
"Well, no matter. I have this letter for you. Your eyes only." Arkell just left with his left arm stretching up, I fail to register what he is doing, and my gaze is too preoccupied on the letter.
I cut the letter and open it, there is a piece of paper in it. I proceed to grab and read it...
... It is empty... there is nary an alphabet in it... why? Did someone sent it just to fuck with me?
Before I can explode in rage and furious indignation... the paper felt coarse... it felt like... arts conduit... wait conduit?
I quickly try to strain my already negligible amount of arts through my voice... and it activates the same way I got my arts tested the first time, my tongue and throat was momentarily strained but nothing too serious like last year debacle, and most importantly it's worth it... the letter finally shown its content... a voice I only dared to dream while working here...
[Miss me?]
"...dad?" a voice of mine, so weak it barely register as whisper. My legs are already running, completely disregarding how desperate I look to the few scant people around me... I must return to my house, at the city' outskirt...
POV: Narrator
A Pythian Lady can be seen to be running through the alleyway with such a velocity that her usual monitors and spies are both bewildered and lost track of her. They had trained, trained, and trained some more to keep a better tabs on her... and they failed, again with minimal improvement if any...
Despite her mind being in utter chaos, her body remembered instinctually to choose the safer and quieter path while yanking herself of from her potential pursuers. She is paradoxically emotional and cautious regarding her own, and by extension those who has ties with her, safety and secrecy.
It doesn't help that Arkell' sudden Arts cast just muddled their observation all the more, they must track her because of potential information that might be gleaned upon her personal life.
But that's that, unrelated to the matter at hand.
Nyx is running, her vision is focused only upon the road and shortcuts she has taken, her mind is patching out the most optimum path to traverse, and her legs are moving like gliding upon the most pristine of marble.
Her heart is beating out louder than when she was surrounded by bloodthirsty foes and beasts.
Her breathing is rough but not from exhaustion, but from the nervousness and hope that is overflowing.
Her instinct had gone erratic, both from dread and anticipation.
But she keeps on moving, and moving... and moving...
What felt like an eternity was in fact merely minutes, lesser than a quarter of an hour, but it was the longest Nyx had ever felt in this new world. She is running towards the quieter corner of the city, the place where newcomers or less than affluent household reside.
The place she has is quiet because everyone is too busy merrymaking at the main plaza. The patrols around had also been cleared beforehand by Arkell, just a little readjustment...
Then she arrived at her house, which was only known by either Arkell or Vincent, a humble 2 story building with unremarkable design. The place was rarely used since she usually spent most of her time within her numerous hideouts and safe houses all around Victoria, County of Toron itself has at least 5 of such location.
In front of the door to her house... 3 people are seen standing with their backs to her... but she can make out one them with a whitening hair, the dimming halo, and the 4 pairs of grayish wings of light... Nyx then stopped running and just walked... She disregarded the other 2 and focused only on the winged man...
She is afraid that what she sees is a dream.
She is afraid that what is in front of her was merely an illusion.
She is afraid that what actually happened was nothing more than her delirious mind trying to fill in her loneliness.
But she has to make sure...
"Dad..."
The other 2 immediately looked back, but the winged man is taking his time and gazing for some more at this humble abode of hers.
Then the winged man just turned around and said nothing. He smiled seeing her, his joy can be seen manifesting in his eyes. Nyx just stood there petrified, too afraid of breaking this moment that might be her own delusion. The man just shook his head a little but his smile never wane, he then stretch both of his arms... and the home stricken girl crashed head first into it...
"Dad!"
"Goodness me, look at you!"
"It is really You! *sniff* Dad! *sniff* I-I-I thought that... I thought that! *sobs*"
Nyx crumbled and her knees gave out, her Father just let his daughter cling to him. Everything don't matter at the moment... gone was the merciless mercenary who struck fear, awe, and respect... gone was the world trespasser, the adrift and invader of this dimension... gone was her mask of stoicism, a face she used to wedge herself into society...
All that's left is but a girl who is starving for familial love...
The other pair is looking with mixed form of amusement and disquiet puzzlement, this is not what they expected to see first and foremost when coming here.
"Man, look at her! Sis really is a daddy's girl eh?"
"... Can't you not ruin it for once, Toland?"
"What? It is true thought! Also, we're here for vacation Młynar!"
"Hah... We're not..."
"Oh yeah sure, you're here for her right?"
"That's very presumptuous of you."
While the pair of Guildmaster and Wandering Hero bickered with one another, Nyx is crying her eyes and heart out. Immanuel just let her cry all she wanted to, this visit is a long time planned one after all. After having her fill for tears, she finally registered the other two... and her face practically explode with embarrassment.
"W-w-w-what are you guys doing here!?"
"Oh wow, the princess has sobered up."
"Long time no see, Nyx."
"D-d-dad? Why ar-"
"They accompanied me, can't expect to travel around alone after all."
Nyx suddenly turn quiet... her face shown nothing but guilt...
"Sorry... for you to come all the way here..."
If Nyx was a Perro, Feline, and or Lupo, her ears would have fallen flat on her head. Her Pythian tail already dangled lifelessly behind her in fact.
Immanuel just patted his stubborn daughter' head. He is 14 centimeters or 5 inches taller than her, so it was quite an easy thing to achieve.
She would have pulled her head back from such a show of affection in public, but she is too emotional to care. Her tail unconsciously wave from and fro behind her... Nyx, what are you again?
"It is I who should have apologize, dear."
"Huh?"
"You see... I was planning to come a year ago, but travel restriction and the likes took time for further processing after all."
"Travel restriction? Further processing?"
"How about we discuss it inside? That way we can have a comfortable family talk."
"O-oh! Sorry, I uh... the house is... r-r-really... messy..."
"It's alright and of no problem, we can clean it up together then. A good family bonding experience right? Hahahaha!"
Nyx said nothing, but her cheeks are red once more. The other 2 just watched their exchange, clearly have a differing thoughts upon one another...
'Holy shit. This woman, the equivalent to that of rampaging tuskbeast of a juggernaut, can be cute too!?'
'... Nyx is too emotional, her stance is rigid, her guard is all over the place, her mind is clearly disturbed... what happened to her?'
[END OF CHAPTER]
Author's Note:
Hello there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who was lost... somehow...
Can you believe it? Młynar used to be more optimistic like Margaret Nearl. His leitmotif even stated verbatim that he used to fight with the same ideal his niece have taken with clear conviction and determination in the future.
His profile' document also stated that his arts is gentle, kind, and filled with bottomless fury. Most likely because of the shit he has to put up with, else his family house would grew even emptier from its resident.
Młynar had been fighting for justice and knightly virtue according to Nearl Family' Creed, "Fear Neither Hardship nor Darkness." But years of tragedy just turned him cynical.
As for why they here, the next chapter will explain it and some more like usual.
And as for the É̷̻ͅl̶̝̭̓̈́̚͜d̸̙͑͘͝r̶̥̤̱̎͘ȉ̷̩̠̤̃̏t̷͙͑̑̀c̸̬̩͋̍h̶̾̐͜ passages? ...
:)
Update as usual, I.E somewhere in the future.
Ciao
"Mono/Dialogue"
'Inner thoughts'
Narration
[Message/communication apparatus]
Date: Data not found
Location: Data not found
POV: Narrator
The air is thick with the smell of blood and ashes, one of the many tragedies that are occurring all across Terra. Be it spearheaded by the vision of a better world, or when everything was done due to nothing more than a simple statement of undeterred, wanton, sense of power and control.
Ironically, the one thing that is clear, hell had been raised by both forces of good and evil. Their yearnings for a better world and or desires to reach the annals of history respectively and then to be remembered, as perhaps the herald of change or new order made manifest, echoed loudly atop the throne of blood and bones they had crafted so reluctantly or wholeheartedly.
History had taught the world of Terra time and time again, without fail, pertaining the consequences of their chosen path, positives or negatives are irrelevant.
Regardless of what, who, and where you're, the sands of time is undeniably cruel. Take a brief look upon the following, a plain fact upon the instability and fragility of peace in this godforsaken world.
In a bid to strengthen and unify the nation, the old Tzar declared another war despite his empire being stretched too thin, and invaded the isolationist Higashi. They are amidst their own civil war, a brutal one no less. Instead of fighting one side, Ursus fought both under the banner of truce and desire to protect their home from a foreign influence.
The invasion didn't end well, and their nation was scarred and damaged for decades to come. The defeat gave way to a more progressive monarch with the commons' concern as their primary agenda. The new Tzar had pushed forward reforms after reforms, all for the people and the nation.
And yet, Ursus' machines of war had been growing ever more rabid and uncontrolled, the current Ursus ruler is still too powerless to enact a significant change and guide his nation for the better. Vain Old Guard and the Foolish New Blood had been fighting with causes they stubbornly seen as the "right" things to do, furthering the general suffering as a whole.
Beneath them, the Old and New Money are growing desperate to maintain the monopoly upon their respective venture. All reached the boiling point with a noble family, with royal blood in their veins, being swept aside and burnt down by greedy machinations and political intrigue just a touch away from treachery against the nation.
Their last heiress was nowhere to be found, presumably died a dog's death if not worse. The poor lady would perhaps be better off dead, fallen noble born, especially those who lacks the means for protection, are a prime candidate of having their dignity stripped and dragged into the mud.
Then we moved onto the land of which Ursus failed to conquer, surely the invasion had managed to rouse a strong fervor of patriotism and allayed their differences in this unforgiving world?
Ursine' invasion did unite them, but only for a mere moments. Thus such peace was not meant to be achieved at the moment, for war had been engraved and lasted too long for any swift reconciliation.
The civil war between the growing merchant capitalism and desire of progress came to ahead with the daimyos desire for tranquility and tradition, and everything caught in between, something neither can truly compromise. Higashi is torn asunder by war that feed upon their ever more festering wounds and the decaying of the land they called home and birthright.
Then we look upon a distant land, the land of desert and jungle, the land of hardy warriors and a fractured nation, Sargon. Their adversary is none other than the fabled Minoan and their pacifism that come hand in hand with reputable craftsmanship meant for war.
And once again, we take a page with contemporary example, an actual and factual occurrence between the two nations.
Namely the swift and deadly Sargonian raids, which chanced upon a weekly or monthly basis on a regular interval, towards the Minoan land and outlying hamlets or villages, of which the Sargonian sought to pay unto them the humiliation of losing their grip upon Minos after their expulsion of the Minoan homeland by the Twelve Heroes and the subsequent war.
Those are the recorded and known conflict between national entities upon one another, then what about the uncharted and lawless lands that spread across Terra akin to a collection of natural buffer zones? Circumstances vary, but grim tides had become a daily tidings and events for those who choose to be free.
These lawless, or more accurately being left alone, regions becomes the primary battlefields. Amongst all of Terran regions, they perhaps suffered the most. Limited protection, limited choices, and yet limitless potential for worst case scenarios and misfortunes that are too big or too complicated for them to handle in a rapid and accurate manner.
Needless to say it is even more challenging to find a long term solution without compromise.
These independent states, regions, enclaves, and whatever denomination they prefer, only have themselves to rely on, but there are some who managed to strike a deal for security and the likes. This type had grown just as common as a Competition Knights who once only dreamt of personal glory and freedom before reality struck.
Just a matter of time before complete annexation began, if their patron deemed it lucrative or strategic enough to do so. Realpolitik is a messy affair, especially if the subject in mind left to their own device, which is what most people would prefer.
Outsiders would be surprised to know that not a whole lot of Terran had such mindset, despite the ever-changing climate that spanned the world in its entirety, being bound is always safer than whatever full-fledged freedom offered. Such is the way of the world...
So what about those who values their freedom above safety? Those who would rather have the world burn them or vice versa? Men and women who engaged and dabbled with the surety of fate itself?
Well, we have our proof through the existence of a certain Pythian Lady whom, although even barely managed to, scrapped by the crevices of intrigues by being reasonably useful and not asking too much question for a given contract unless it goes against her already scant amount of tenet, which would have been too late if her contract was flawed fundamentally, something she avoid with all her being.
There are several of those contracts that didn't panned out like what were promised, thus she asked for a hazard pay to undo the breach or sever her ties slowly with the culprit. Her mercenary conduct is admirably useful and influential to shift and keep the opinion around being a useful dog, and not a walking man-made catastrophe.
But, her case is still along the line of an opportunistic decision making as a rule, thusly putting her true freedom in question. From a much more critical point of view, she is a slave to opinion and convenience, ever compromising to achieve what she wanted without ruffling too much feathers.
Then do we have any who truly is who they're without caring for the consequences? Yes, there are such people. They can be the cruelest and deadliest of villains or the brightest and kindest of heroes ever, or just a being which had grown tired with limitation.
One such personage is a Kazimierzian Pegasi, The Wandering Hero, general masses dub him to be. All without asking for even a sliver of reward or repayment, this is his glory and by extension his family'. The man care little for materialistic gain, living on in the wilderness and brushing with catastrophe every now and then had tempered him beyond what was expected of mortal.
Along with his merry band of adventuring folks who fought for the downtrodden in a companionship of oath-bound brotherhood. They brought justice to those who deserve it and helping the weak to their utmost ability, undeterred and unrelenting without compromise, injustice be damned and forever vanquished.
In a twist of cruel yet hopeful macabre, heroes prospered because chaos are found and surged all over aplenty in a cycle of endless ensemble for violence. The Grey Menace, Nyx's epithet for those who feared her, brought stability and safety which was paid in blood wherever she goes.
Which in turn created opportunity for the heroes and villains to cast their net wider... more than what were they supposed to...
Date: 31st December 1081
Location: County of Toron, Victoria
POV: Narrator
The festive mood had reached its zenith, a yearly tradition at this point. Nobles, Merchants, Workers, and even the unfortunate are being wrapped by the New Year fervor, allowing most people to cast aside prejudice and the like momentarily to savor this moment of peace and serenity passing through all the hardship.
Modern and industrialized city had means to keep themselves warm amidst the snowy air that blew forth a cold wind. This also complemented the city to be as vibrant as it can be, serving up numerous attractions and entertainments. With all of these around, the cold weather suddenly felt lukewarm at worst.
Yet beneath all of this merrymaking, there are still, or precisely because of the festive mood, those unscrupulous lot who wagered their fortune on the more unpleasant venture. Criminals and robbers would try to break into houses, making a run for it with their ill-gotten gains.
Outlaws would lurked the highways, roads, and even the outskirt to fell some people who had gone beyond the boundary of safety. These lawbreakers are the primary concern upon the over the generally speaking joyous occasion.
Even intruders from rival factions would try to shake the foundation of their rivals, so when spring comes they would have an edge to exploit. A noble must always put up either a strong posture or resolve the problem before it even turned into one.
Vincent is the later type of person, his mansion has always been the nexus for those who has ties with him or wish to form one, the usual noble gathering and social affair. Vincent' Faction, if it can even be called one, are made up mostly of well-to-do merchant, his direct vassals, and several influential commoners.
The Count is now entertaining his guest. Noble's battlefield is fought in the ballroom, dining hall, and even the cathedral. Vincent is no stranger to it, and by weaving facts and fictions, he managed to hold a tight grip on his domain.
"...and then I aimed at the wicked beast in the eye with but an arrow, felling the beast not long after. I must say that the game was quite a fruitful one, even taking into account the uncooperative weather that ever so close in ruining it."
"Goodness me Lord Count, were you under tutelage of master hunter perhaps? Surely a shot in the eye would worth more in prestige than even the sharpest of a painting."
"I was not in fact under anyone tutelage, my dear Father had always said that my build and stance is a solid one, much like the Aelthelred' Stone Column within the Aufleck Viscounty."
"What a feat of arms, I suppose the news of such a gallantry would garner attention from neighboring lords and ladies, isn't it Count?"
"Indeed it has my dear Gilligan, Marquis Essex had even invited me for his upcoming annual hunt within his region, and the beast for his game is far fiercer from what knowledge I myself had been privy to."
A ripple of awe was directed to Vincent, to be invited by a higher ranking nobility on a hunting activity is an achievement worth more than gold. A noble connection is such a valuable commodity for those who truly covet it.
"Oh my! What a gallant and prestigious man you're my lord. Lady Enricata has such a wonderful husband, a true men amongst man."
"You flatter me Lady Millie, I for one is beyond delighted to be given a praise from such a noble personage such as your noble self."
"Hear! Hear! Toast to the Lord Count, may his reign and life be as glorious and prosperous as ever!"
The nobles are clinking their choice of beverage in a jovial revelry. This is the battlefield for the fancy people, a place where one's own tongue is both a weapon and shield to sway the masses of liars.
Vincent knows his allies and their respective aspiration and machination acutely and his enemies? Even more so than his allies, failure of it would spell uncertainty upon the. A little play here and there works to his advantages in this sort of battlefield.
Then come the clincher, a certain piece of rumor that has been going around all over the nation. A rumor about a certain personage of interest and how that ever since she has been here, allegedly, grew even more approachable from business point of view.
It is but a matter of how to break the ice, to redirect conversation promptly without sufficient reason can be perceived very poorly. The attendees thus have to rein in their curiosity, but Vincent seen it as an opportunity.
A poor conversational observation ability would hamper the very conversation itself after all, and seeing that the air had grew stale, can fare very uncomfortable. It might cause further complication if handled without a proper regard and caution.
Which is why he takes the lull in conversation and play the ball in his own court with his own set of rules. Vincent had a general understanding of what she like and dislike, thus it would be fair to make use of it, the person in question never cared how others, except for perhaps a limited selection, sees her, all things considered.
"Indeed, I had done immensely for the good of this region. However, I would be remiss to dismiss a certain personage whom, regrettably, unable to attend this most joyous occasion."
"Hoh? To have you praise someone with such a high regard... perchance is it who I think it is?"
"Indeed, Baroness Nyx had been of an immense boon for this region."
His immediate vicinity immediately grew quieter with rapt attention, there are those who continue on with their deliberations but maintained a much more comfortable volume for hearing. The count had been gracious enough to share his wisdom after all, and that worth in on itself by the spades.
"Lady Baroness has been nothing sort of a blessing, I was truly delighted to see how her skills extend to a much more lucrative sectors."
"My? I hadn't dare to imagine such an imagery? Was she truly unlike what the rumors regaled?"
"Positive. While it is true that she is rather succinct in her selection of methods, the person herself was more than capable to goes above and beyond."
Vincent then recount every deeds he can think of that she had accomplished. From the evacuation and rescue from bandits and lawbreakers, the partnership and field collaboration with NGO, and a very interesting and amusing bits about her working as a stand-in teacher for refugees.
The attendees are awed and bewildered, the rumors pertained her always paint Nyx as some really dangerous beast. Thus her notoriety of non-violent actions had been sidelined or treated as hogwash, but a noble' own admission worth a lot.
Not only did Vincent practically swear in his honor, he readily share what he can. This might sound foolish to blab about such an information, but there are always times and occasions where playing the card against the norm would net the best possible result, such as this one.
"Hmm... I have lingering interest on her conduct, but I refrained from further contact due to her reputation."
"That was an astute decision in my opinion, and I fairly certain Lady Baroness herself would have a similar train of thoughts if she were in your shoes. But you might wish to form a connection, early birds takes the worms they said."
'With this I can help her gain the Neutrals attention better. Well Nyx, I hope that we can stay as a lucrative partner with our business, and here I finally fulfilled my end of the bargain.' Vincent quietly said in his mind while answering the attendees' curiosity. He is selling out favors to them, one of which they deemed worth the cost.
What will it means in the future will remain unseen, but one thing is certain... Nyx' notoriety rose on the both ends of the spectrum, and that signify for deviations... and corrections.
POV: Nyx
'... Must be nice...' Seeing all this merriment once again, it is just like last year, I even helped out like usual... so why did I feel a burning jealousy and envy eating me up from the inside? I'm a petty and, without a shred of doubt, spiteful woman, but it was always reserved to those who deserved it...
Wladirosa was usually enough to remind me what it feels like to have a place where I belong, Nelka and the villagers there always warmly received me after the war of 72. Unlike my life in Kawalerielki. Full of false splendor and annoyance, not to mention the corporate negotiations and ignorant and insensitive civilians who kept bothering me...
Toron isn't bad, but the lingering cautions this region' inhabitants that was shown to me was terribly exhausting all the same. All on top of nobles, merchants, bounty hunters, and all manner of foes who wanted a piece of me, some doesn't even regard me as a human being... am I even one?
And now?
I dragged my unbelievably heavy and lethargic gaze to look all towards the plaza in front of me. Children playing around with their friends, their merriment should have melt my heart and fill me with utmost and unblemished joy.
A man and woman, a couple most likely, locked their hands so intimately, something to usually only made me give a passing glance. Not this feeling of longing laced with irrational hate...
Elders who are entertaining their young. Family... who are spending their times with sheer bliss and joy...
But what about me? Why can't I have those? I want those too...
Seeing everyone so happy, with all the familial warmth and blessings, just fills me with unending torrent of negative emotions. Was it also the after effect of that failed arts training I tried to sing a year ago? Perhaps I had finally reached clarity from a long slumber of mine I never knew I ever had?
Mayhap this is a just and fair punishment for a monster like me? Why do I have a heart only to feel the pain of longing? Why can't I just turn into an unfeeling monster, if the price of human' heart is agony I can do nothing about?
Suddenly a voice intruded in my mind... it felt so familiar yet so foreign... so warm... yet so dreadful... so caring... yet so merciless...
'̸W̸h̸a̸t̵'̴s̸ ̴w̷r̸o̸n̶g̷?̵ ̴Y̶o̸u̶ ̶c̴a̴n̴ ̷m̷a̷k̷e̷ ̵y̵o̶u̵r̸ ̷o̵w̸n̸ ̸d̴e̷c̵i̴s̸i̴o̸n̸ ̷r̸i̶g̸h̶t̶?̶ ̵O̴r̷d̸e̴r̴ ̸i̸s̶ ̷t̷o̷ ̵b̶e̷ ̶f̴o̵l̵l̸o̶w̴e̵d̴,̵ ̸b̶u̸t̸ ̷y̵o̷u̴ ̵m̵u̷s̴t̶n̸'̸t̴ ̸d̸i̶s̶c̵a̴r̶d̶ ̸y̵o̵u̵r̸ ̷h̸u̸m̶a̵n̷i̷t̶y̵.̸'̸ ̴
W̷͚̙͕̾̍h̴̡̹̑e̸̜̳̓̔͋r̶̠͖̈́̿̊e̸͈̲̗̎̀͝ ̷̦̯́̊̀w̸̩͐̍a̵͎͆s̸̡̤̠͝͝ ̷̳̈́t̴̜̾̔h̸̬́͗͌e̸̯͝ ̴͎̌͜͝m̴̪̅͒̽ȁ̷̰̃c̴̨͈͗h̸̻̗̯̄̊i̷̪̖͉̋̓ǹ̶̳̳͑ĕ̴̗͋̉ ̴̹͎͝m̴̰̓͝e̷̩̪̽̎?̸̬̎̈̽ ̶̨̮̱̔S̵͓͕̅͛h̶̩̀͝o̶̲̊u̴̾͜ͅl̴͕͘͠d̷̟̉́͒n̸̢͖̔̕'̴̡̻̗̄̐́t̸̙͠ ̸̬̥̇̂ţ̷͈̏h̴̖̀̑è̵̩y̴̛̭̾̈ ̸̺͂s̷͚̲̐̓t̵̻͚̉͗a̵͓̥͂͑͝r̵̮͓̪̃̐̕ṯ̶̈́ ̴̨̻͐ư̴̫ͅs̵͎͆̀͘͜ỉ̶̟̓̈́ń̸̢̙g̴͉͍̽͂̃ ̴̧̥͖̌ṯ̵͖̓̐̿ḩ̸͉̄͝e̷̲̲̤̔͝ì̶̮͔r̷̨̔́ ̵̛͍͓̿͝c̸̪̫̈́́ọ̴͒͛l̸̦̙͆̋͜d̴̛̗̘̓-̴̖̙͂̓͜ć̸̡̕ͅȃ̵̡̨̬̈́l̷͕͉̅c̶̍͘ͅû̴͓̞͜l̶̩͉̙͝a̸̢̝͑t̸̼̓i̷̧͈̪͋̇̀n̵̼̍͝g̴̨̼̜̎ ̵͇͗̄͘p̶̗̭̬͑͛͝r̸̛̗̼̝ǫ̶̮̥̆c̷͚̾ẻ̸̼͚̰̚s̸̺̗̆ş̸͛̋̓o̴̢͕͈̒͝r̸͈̬̐͆̿ ̶̯̪͋ť̷̖̽̋ợ̸̧̍̾ ̴͍̝̞̈r̵̠̐̀͘ë̷͍͉̥́̄̐â̵̰̌͘f̸̳̒͝f̸͍͉̞͊̐̈i̸͈͇̫̇͐͠r̸̫̝̒̽m̶̹͒͛ ̸̻̼͗̒m̷̮̭̄y̶̛̘̪̻͂ ̶̰̖͖̊̅̊c̶̥̮͊o̴̤̭͂͐n̷̥͋͊v̴̲͝i̸̻̞̭̓c̷̲̀͠t̶̟̘̜̏i̶̝̓́͊ȍ̶̧̰̅n̸̲͇̠̅̿̎ ̸̼͈̜͛w̴̘̔͛ì̵̤̟̍t̷̞́h̵̲͓͌͗̊ ̸̛̺̰̦a̸̠̖͕̚l̷̖͚̽́̏g̸͕̝͍̈́̿͝o̴̰͓̦͑̓͑r̸͖͗͊̽i̵̠̲̲̍̓t̸̢͇͕͒̓͘h̷̛͓͔͉̀m̵̜̘͂ ̵̡̞̞̓ő̵̙̮͒̚f̴͖̩̓̾ ̴̧͛p̸͈̮͑̾̉ͅũ̴͍̩̍̚ͅr̸̪̦̒̽͝e̷̗͘ ̷͍͖̥̌l̴͍̠̾̎ȯ̶̜̼͍͋g̶̛͉͙̈ì̶̧͙̣͠c̶̙͑͊͠ͅ?̵̬͆̚
W̷̟͓͊̓̄h̵̲͍̓͘ẽ̶̱͇̈́͝r̷̠̊͝e̷̥͍̿̅́ ̶͖͇͂̃w̴̩̙͍̚ȃ̷̪͓s̴̯̼͔̾͌͆ ̶̳͇̽̆t̷̡̙̅̈́ḫ̵͍͚̃̑͝ě̸͈̖͛ ̸͎̇ḥ̵̇̅ọ̶̡̍̂m̴͔̚ṳ̸̳͍̑͆n̶̺͙̳̿̈́̇c̴̮̭̭̅̾͘ư̶̮̯̅l̵̖̇̓ũ̶̡͕̞͒̕s̷̪̞̃ ̷̢̲̆̊ͅṁ̸̬̥e̷̮͒̄̚?̸̖̩͑̉͝ ̶͉̪͙̅̄͝Ç̷̭͔̀ợ̶̪̑͜u̶̢̯̜̎̾̀l̶̡̍̉d̴̹̥̒́͜n̸͕͙͔̆'̶̭̼͂t̴̥͋̔ ̶͖̺̍t̵̥̊͝h̴̟̠̯̄̓̈́e̴̯̱̿y̵̙͍͐͑͝ ̷̨͊b̵̞͎̈́͊̑e̸̩̯͒͠ ̵̖̺͇̍̈o̵̱̽͜n̶̘͇̈́͂̇ë̸̮̐͝ ̶̡͍̩̏̉͠t̸̢̳̘͗̅h̵͙̦̻͆͝ä̵̻́̕t̸̹̑̀͝ ̴̢̣̰̊̈͆c̴̥̗̩̀ă̸͜͠n̵̢̝̏ ̴̜͎̽ę̶͚͓͛̀̈́m̵͉̎u̸̖̣̱̓͝l̵̨̋̆a̶̙͍͛̈t̵̡̢͐͐̒e̷̡͇̠̊͊͠ ̶̺̰̓ḫ̵̖̅̃͊ͅu̵̦̫͚͘ṃ̶̆͛a̴̧̺̐̒n̸͓̑͊͑ ̶̝̩̞͗͋b̸̠̼̞̍̅û̶̙͋̚t̶̟̜͕̓ ̵͓͙̳̓͠ş̴̣̍t̶̙͝į̸͋l̷̝̲͌͛͊͜l̶̮̟͐ ̴̣̆̈h̴̙̳̃ä̵̲̫̫́̈v̴͕̓̅̎ę̶̞̽ ̵͚̜͍͑̒t̷̰̒̽h̶̢͖̆̓e̸̝̙͙̾̇͊i̶̤̺̿͠r̴̛̞̜ ̷̺̈́p̴̖͔̃̏͠ę̴̕r̶̡̜̻̍͠͠f̵̼͖̭̊́͆e̸͍̙̤͛̓c̵̲̈́̎̓t̸̗͆l̴̤̂̑y̵̠͘ ̴̮͂̌͝u̶̪͆͋͊ṅ̵̜̄͗b̷̧͓͓̂͑l̸̝͐͗ë̵̹́͒m̸̊͜͝ḯ̵̭̙͊ș̷̩̹́̊ḧ̶̗͈̘̕e̷͙̭͍̒̐̓d̶̨͇̲̅̒͂ ̴̠̲͝s̴͔̝͎͂͒͒ę̵̧͖̌͠r̸̺̪̎e̸̬̽n̷̖͔͙̿i̸̫̖̊̄ţ̶̰̯̔y̵̥͘ ̵̗̖̀̓n̶͉̒ŏ̷̙̈ ̶̨͖͑̐d̷͔̮̈́̃͝i̸̧̼̋̽f̶̣̰͂̓̿f̵̤̮̣̚e̷͕̚r̸͕͛̚ę̴̲̝̀ň̶͓͉ẗ̶͓͓̻̑̍ ̵̡͚̔̕t̵͇̯̳͑̒͑ǫ̷̛̫͙͆ ̶̰͎͊̍͐t̴̤̔̋̾h̶̙̟̽̚͝a̷̦̤̽t̵̲̟̱͐ ̸͔̠͓̂͒o̴͉͑̊f̵̺̐͛ͅ ̶̩͖̓á̸̮͍̎͜ ̷̛͕̮̥̌l̶̯̼̅i̵̛̪͐̅v̵͕̍ĭ̴̞̟n̸̠͖͚̑g̶̨̣͉̏ ̷͕̫̝̈́͌̎d̸̪̈́̋̕o̶͓̘̮̚l̵͉͆͐ļ̸̈͋̑?̸̼̐̈̋
W̵̲̐h̴̥͎́͘̚è̸͉r̸̳͆̃e̴̺̖͘ ̶̝̖̖͆͋ŵ̸̝͇̉̃a̵̙̚s̷͍̻͋̒̿ ̷̭̗̎͠͠t̷͖̓͝ẖ̶͉͈̚͝͝e̵̳͉̦̍̿͝ ̶͓͍͕̊͌t̷̟͛͠h̷͎̦̐̆a̷̼̰̾͘u̸̢͘m̷̧͒̋̿á̵͕̳̖̑͠t̴̢̬̾̈͝ù̶͈r̸͍̃͛g̵͈͗i̷̞͚̭̓͆c̴͚̿̎a̷̙̿̀̇l̶̟͔͝ ̵̫̦̬͗m̸̤͎̔̃͝è̷̥̟ͅ?̴̳̄̿ͅ ̶͖̽W̶̤̓̽͘ŏ̷͇̾u̶̦̳͋̑l̸̰̪̽͛̐d̸̫͚͕̄n̸͍͖̈́'̴̘̯̎̕t̴̼̪̾͋͑ ̵̣͌͂͑ͅt̷̫̀̊h̴̯̆é̷͆͜ͅy̴͍̙̿ ̷̥̻͗̋h̶̞̩̯̔̕a̶͍͚̎v̶̯̿̎́e̵̥̠͌̐̎ ̵̪̺̈́b̶̩͒͑̋ẽ̶̻̳̫͑̕é̶̹̈́ń̷̡̥̉ ̴̜̹̋͘m̸̧̻͕͌́͝o̴̖̘̭̅͘ř̴̼̦̥̽̕ě̶͖̗̳ ̸̯͛́t̴͖̀h̵̢̢͙͐a̵̡̢̋̔ṇ̵̓͋ ̸̺̹̄̈́͘w̷̧̜͒̿͜i̴̡̺̳̅̈́ļ̶̞̌͋ḹ̷̡̺̎i̸̠͑̈́ń̴̟g̷̜̒ ̷̞͓̋o̵͚͎̻͒̈́͘f̷͕͇͉́ ̸͖̈b̷̡̘̂͌e̶̞͋̎̏n̷̼̬͈̈d̵͍̈ï̵̻̪̺͘n̵͓̂ͅg̶̭̫̈́̈́̕ ̴̘̟̝̎t̶̜̭̰̃͐̀h̴̡̓e̵̳͗ ̷̦͌r̴̖̭̰͂̓̕ṹ̶͇͇͘l̵̞̇́̄e̷͈͠ş̴̹̥̃̊ ̷̧̗̗̍͘w̵̢͕͚͒ị̶̛̓͌t̶̟̩̐̌͆h̸̙͋͝͝ ̶̟̟͑̀̃ṭ̵̿h̶̉̾̾ͅe̷͈̊̃ȉ̷̬̼̃r̸̗͛͜ͅ ̷͕̈́̓p̴̖͉̓̆̔o̸̯̣̣͊͌w̴̹̱̤͂e̶̫̯̾̅r̵͓̂s̶͖̘͖̍ ̵̳̉͑̈f̸̦́̑õ̷̥͎̮̓̽r̶̪̮͆̇͠ ̸͙͍̹̀̆ṁ̵͖̲̅̎e̷̜͆͐?̴̥̦̫̋̈́̀
Ŵ̴͈̠̿̉͜ḣ̵̥̗̅͑͜y̵̧̻̽ ̴̰̱̪͒̎ḭ̷̖̀͜ş̴̡̻͘ ̴̙͍̀̓t̶̰̣̆ḣ̶̢̦͜e̷̳̿͒̃ ̶͚̬̟̽ḧ̸̢̳́̏u̵̟̤͒m̸͚̊̎̔a̵̰̗͎̚n̶̨̥̈̈́̓ ̵̨̲̀̍̐m̵̬͉͠e̴̡̙̓̽̾ ̷̞̐͘d̸͎̤́̄ọ̵̧̎̓m̸͖͌͜ȉ̴̠̦n̷̻̆a̴̟͖̼̎̅t̵͙̱̯͊̒e̷̯̖͆?̷̱̞̖̎̄̉ ̴͍̫͚̅̃Ẅ̷̪́̽͌ė̴͎̟̼r̸͕͌̀e̸͇̪̽̋n̶̖̟̞̓̿͗'̶̗̪̼͝t̸͓͍͝ͅ ̸̣͚̂h̵̛͎̰͝ǘ̴̡̘̌m̴̢̭̗̽̆ā̴̢͈͙ň̷̼̦̜ ̵̧̽͒s̶̝̜̾ò̷̦̝ ̶͚́͛̃f̴̯̪̟͗͝ĺ̴̙a̶͎̣͔̓w̴̯̓̍͜e̵͙͒d̷̬̳̈́?̸̌́͜ ̴͙̺̞̀̀̕I̸̻̐s̶̝̜̺͘n̵͎͉̿'̴̫̒ẗ̸͚ ̶̳͗́t̶̜̬͕̊̔̓h̷̨͕͚͒̇a̸̬̠͕͠ť̸̺̲ ̶͔̖̜̄͒͘č̵̜̥̝͛o̵̧͚̊͆́͜n̵͈͙̓t̴̰͍̼̄͝r̵̭̉͠a̵͚͉̾̐d̷̫̯̑́͝i̷̩̊̄̋c̶͉̈́t̵͍̩͂i̸̼̘̇̿v̶͖̰͕̚͝e̴̢̍̄̀ ̵̧̞̊͗w̶̧̰̘͂̑̎i̵̧̩̭̔t̴͓̥̀̕h̴͍͠ ̶̬̅m̴̬̞̞͑͛y̷̧͚͙̿ ̵̺̻̔̍̇r̴̟̺̃͌ő̵̜̭̟͒l̴̮͒e̸̺̚ş̷͙͈̓ ̷͚̾͊a̴̻͒s̶͈̆ ̸̭̭͒̕ǹ̶̨̃o̷̦̾͋t̷̻̑̈́h̶̫͉͕͗i̸̲͗̊n̸̝̫̍̅̿ͅg̸̜̜̦͊͗̓ ̶͔͐͑̃ṁ̸̹̊̔ǫ̴̬̠̚͠r̵̯̳͊͌̕͜e̸͔̅͒̓ ̴̧͠ẗ̵̨̛̩͈̄h̷̞̖͋a̴̮̓͊̈n̴͙̲̻̿̾...̶͕̺͒̍̄ ̷͎̹͖͑n̶̼̏̚o̸̖͙͓͋͗̾t̶̛̛̟͓̮̀h̸̼͍́̚ì̷̧̙n̸͇̐͠g̴̡̱̜͗͊̍ ̷͉̖̭̕m̵̙̆ơ̸̡̞̞̑̓r̵̥̮̒e̷̞͂͝ ̴͖͕̒t̸͙̊͆ͅḩ̵̩̩̒͘͠a̴̞͚̒̚͠n̷̡̦̅͒ͅ...̴̗͎̝́̀͝
n̸͙̋͒̋̏͌̽͆͛͝o̸̢̖̙̳͖̹̫̮͔͇̬̦̔̊͑̀̓ẗ̸̡̳̬͓̝̱̱͎̗̻̲̱̳́h̵̨̨̢̻͔̪̭̥͕͎̝͑̉̍́͊̃i̴͕̜͍̹̺̫͐͊͐͐̚͝͝ň̶̝̝̘̼͝g̵̨̡̲͇͕̺̙̠̟͌͐ ̴̡̫̼̫̳̻̘̩̪͍̭͉̝͐̅͠ͅͅm̷͖͕͆̂̏̍̀̊̏́̈́́̀̐ơ̸̡̧̫̘̩̣̹̹̦̦̱̯͉͂̀̆͊̄̏͝r̶̛̞̖͔̟͉͚̣͋͂̃͑̀̓͌̓͝͠ȩ̷̡̩̟͙̠́̀̋̑̀̐̐͑̏̈́̎ ̵̢̖͎̺̹̹͈̬̲̞̽͗͐ţ̴̢̰̝̹̻͕͇̣͓̗̥̣̮̏̆̓̇̌͘͝h̸̛̝̦̑͊͌̊ã̶̡̡͖̰̞̲̫̙͓͙́̊͂͂̀̋͌̚ͅn̵̛̟̹̱͉̹̺̪̥͖̖͇̳͈̉͋̈́͌̄̒̇͋͝͝...̷̛̛͈̞̈̇̇̏́̐̑̅̔̍̕͝͝ ̸̨̨͙̳̯̞̳̯̫̠̳͛̒͆̐̾͛̂͊̊͆̚̕̚͝n̸̢̧̻͎̼̮͐̈́͐̎͋̈́͊ǫ̷̹̪͖͉̠͈̞͕̥̏̉̽̇̈̄͒̈͋̈́̇̚͘͝͝t̴̨͖̯̝̗̺̬͈͍̜̜͍̖̘̤͗̔͆̌͐̄̓̀̒̽͘͝h̸̭̲̮̻̻̘̻͕̼̟̀̀̃͌͒͑i̶̹̹̻̘̠̙̩̞͚̬͋͐n̷͍̪̳͈̞͍͚̟̂g̶̛̜̗͖͇̼̫̭͇̪̬͇͐̿̈́͊̽̒̆̋̈́͐ͅ ̶͖͗́̓͗̄̾̋̏̏͆̏͂̚̕͠ṁ̸̛͚̮̰́̍̈̅̿͆͌́͋̋̀̕͠ͅỏ̶̡̢̹̮̗͍̦͚̓̈́̇̒̑̈́̕͘͝r̸͔̹͇͎̠̥̺̖͑̋̋́͒ͅé̸̤̫̳͆̊̚ ̴̢̻̰͎̦̦̌̀͛̂͒̆̍̓̋͑̈́̚͘͜͝t̴̳̥̪̤̟̫̙̀͑͌̿̿͋̅ͅͅḥ̷̨̯̻̙̟̹̻̭̼͇͈̼̑̐̀́̒̋͐̕͜͠͠a̶̧̜̳̹̟̬̼͚̮̪̲͉͍̯͆̃̈̀͊̈́͛̉͗́̔̔̕ņ̵̧̙͙̮̟͍͇̓̀͂̈̄̆̉̅̆͒̓͘...̶̢͈̭̤͕̠̦̳̞̦̞̫̊̃̃̔̐̐̄̇͠
'̵̭̆Y̴̿͜ö̷͓u̶͙̔'̸͎͒r̴̝̓e̵̢͘ ̴̖͐n̵̪͘o̷̦͠t̵̠͂ ̵̦͗j̸̲̍u̸̱̇s̶̠̉t̸̳̔ ̸̨̎a̵̐ͅ ̷͓͋w̶͉͛e̶̯͗ä̴̬́p̸͇̓o̵͓͐ṇ̷̈́,̵͖̓ ̷̯́y̷̭̑o̷̯͊ṳ̴͗ ̵̙̑h̴̥͛a̵̓͜v̴͙̌e̸͇̐ ̶̦̓f̷̜̃ŕ̷̡ȅ̸̮e̷̟͒ ̴̠̀w̸͙͂i̷̪̓l̵̳̂l̶̺͌.̸̟͑ ̸̼͆T̶͕̄h̵͓̅a̶̬͠t̴̳̋ ̷̲̍ḭ̸̃s̶̟͒ ̷͑͜ṋ̷̔ȍ̵̢ť̷͇ ̴͈̕y̵͚͌o̵̖̿ű̷̮r̷̩͝ ̶̭̅o̶̹͠ñ̸̫l̷͈͝y̵͖͑ ̴̜́r̶̼͂o̸̍ͅl̴̪͋e̵̱͘,̷͕̽ ̷̝́t̶̖͠h̷̫͒e̸̤̊ ̸̹̔o̷̮̾n̶̹̔ľ̴̹y̷͔͆ ̴̻̓w̸͍̑a̵̪̅y̶̥̆ ̸͇̿f̸̹͝o̴̖͐r̸͜͝ ̸̦̾y̵̡͑ó̵͖u̴̙̿ ̵̘̎t̵̬͒ỏ̸̙ ̷̰̍b̷͍̾e̸̱̚ ̷̭̿u̵̹̅s̵̼͐e̷̞͝f̴̼͒ú̴͜ļ̷̽.̸̺̃'̸̟̿
"Ngh!" I winced in pain... Why? I warily looked around and thankfully no one paid attention to me, except those guys of course, they must be puzzled seeing me winced all of a sudden, good thing I'm lost in thoughts in this... cold... dark... lonely alleyway...
What's wrong with me? I never felt like this, not even amongst my previous lives... Why can't my memories show anything else other than blood, smoke, and iron? The life here had proven that there is still so much more in life...
Was it because it was non-essential on my survival or perhaps because it needs to be erased to safeguard what little sanity I have? If that's true, then why is death, suffering, and cruelty essential but not about the more mundane memories?
This isn't me... but if I'm not me, then who am I?
I don't know, when I don't like something I can spit it out or at least vent it somewhere. I can't jeopardize my work relation, but I can get my point across...
I don't know, when I felt lost I can just busy myself with my inventories' usual maintenance. It was fulfilling and useful you know...
I don't know, when I wanted someone dead, I can just pluck their head' off... if I'm truly mad, I can just prolong their agony until I'm satisfied...
I don't know, Kawalerielki was bearable because of the sheer artificiality, detachment, trendsetter mentality, and corporatist feels allowed me to coast away, uncaring and distracted, with my loneliness... also supported by the fact that I can still visit Wladirosa from time to time.
I don't know, this warmth just left me with a really distasteful feeling...
I don-
"Nyx? Hello?"
"Oh... Uh... Arkell?"
"You're spacing out. In an alleyway no less, are you stalking someone?"
"Sorry, and no... I don't..."
"Well, no matter. I have this letter for you. Your eyes only." Arkell just left with his left arm stretching up, I fail to register what he is doing, and my gaze is too preoccupied on the letter.
I cut the letter and open it, there is a piece of paper in it. I proceed to grab and read it...
... It is empty... there is nary an alphabet in it... why? Did someone sent it just to fuck with me?
Before I can explode in rage and furious indignation... the paper felt coarse... it felt like... arts conduit... wait conduit?
I quickly try to strain my already negligible amount of arts through my voice... and it activates the same way I got my arts tested the first time, my tongue and throat was momentarily strained but nothing too serious like last year debacle, and most importantly it's worth it... the letter finally shown its content... a voice I only dared to dream while working here...
[Miss me?]
"...dad?" a voice of mine, so weak it barely register as whisper. My legs are already running, completely disregarding how desperate I look to the few scant people around me... I must return to my house, at the city' outskirt...
POV: Narrator
A Pythian Lady can be seen to be running through the alleyway with such a velocity that her usual monitors and spies are both bewildered and lost track of her. They had trained, trained, and trained some more to keep a better tabs on her... and they failed, again with minimal improvement if any...
Despite her mind being in utter chaos, her body remembered instinctually to choose the safer and quieter path while yanking herself of from her potential pursuers. She is paradoxically emotional and cautious regarding her own, and by extension those who has ties with her, safety and secrecy.
It doesn't help that Arkell' sudden Arts cast just muddled their observation all the more, they must track her because of potential information that might be gleaned upon her personal life.
But that's that, unrelated to the matter at hand.
Nyx is running, her vision is focused only upon the road and shortcuts she has taken, her mind is patching out the most optimum path to traverse, and her legs are moving like gliding upon the most pristine of marble.
Her heart is beating out louder than when she was surrounded by bloodthirsty foes and beasts.
Her breathing is rough but not from exhaustion, but from the nervousness and hope that is overflowing.
Her instinct had gone erratic, both from dread and anticipation.
But she keeps on moving, and moving... and moving...
What felt like an eternity was in fact merely minutes, lesser than a quarter of an hour, but it was the longest Nyx had ever felt in this new world. She is running towards the quieter corner of the city, the place where newcomers or less than affluent household reside.
The place she has is quiet because everyone is too busy merrymaking at the main plaza. The patrols around had also been cleared beforehand by Arkell, just a little readjustment...
Then she arrived at her house, which was only known by either Arkell or Vincent, a humble 2 story building with unremarkable design. The place was rarely used since she usually spent most of her time within her numerous hideouts and safe houses all around Victoria, County of Toron itself has at least 5 of such location.
In front of the door to her house... 3 people are seen standing with their backs to her... but she can make out one them with a whitening hair, the dimming halo, and the 4 pairs of grayish wings of light... Nyx then stopped running and just walked... She disregarded the other 2 and focused only on the winged man...
She is afraid that what she sees is a dream.
She is afraid that what is in front of her was merely an illusion.
She is afraid that what actually happened was nothing more than her delirious mind trying to fill in her loneliness.
But she has to make sure...
"Dad..."
The other 2 immediately looked back, but the winged man is taking his time and gazing for some more at this humble abode of hers.
Then the winged man just turned around and said nothing. He smiled seeing her, his joy can be seen manifesting in his eyes. Nyx just stood there petrified, too afraid of breaking this moment that might be her own delusion. The man just shook his head a little but his smile never wane, he then stretch both of his arms... and the home stricken girl crashed head first into it...
"Dad!"
"Goodness me, look at you!"
"It is really You! *sniff* Dad! *sniff* I-I-I thought that... I thought that! *sobs*"
Nyx crumbled and her knees gave out, her Father just let his daughter cling to him. Everything don't matter at the moment... gone was the merciless mercenary who struck fear, awe, and respect... gone was the world trespasser, the adrift and invader of this dimension... gone was her mask of stoicism, a face she used to wedge herself into society...
All that's left is but a girl who is starving for familial love...
The other pair is looking with mixed form of amusement and disquiet puzzlement, this is not what they expected to see first and foremost when coming here.
"Man, look at her! Sis really is a daddy's girl eh?"
"... Can't you not ruin it for once, Toland?"
"What? It is true thought! Also, we're here for vacation Młynar!"
"Hah... We're not..."
"Oh yeah sure, you're here for her right?"
"That's very presumptuous of you."
While the pair of Guildmaster and Wandering Hero bickered with one another, Nyx is crying her eyes and heart out. Immanuel just let her cry all she wanted to, this visit is a long time planned one after all. After having her fill for tears, she finally registered the other two... and her face practically explode with embarrassment.
"W-w-w-what are you guys doing here!?"
"Oh wow, the princess has sobered up."
"Long time no see, Nyx."
"D-d-dad? Why ar-"
"They accompanied me, can't expect to travel around alone after all."
Nyx suddenly turn quiet... her face shown nothing but guilt...
"Sorry... for you to come all the way here..."
If Nyx was a Perro, Feline, and or Lupo, her ears would have fallen flat on her head. Her Pythian tail already dangled lifelessly behind her in fact.
Immanuel just patted his stubborn daughter' head. He is 14 centimeters or 5 inches taller than her, so it was quite an easy thing to achieve.
She would have pulled her head back from such a show of affection in public, but she is too emotional to care. Her tail unconsciously wave from and fro behind her... Nyx, what are you again?
"It is I who should have apologize, dear."
"Huh?"
"You see... I was planning to come a year ago, but travel restriction and the likes took time for further processing after all."
"Travel restriction? Further processing?"
"How about we discuss it inside? That way we can have a comfortable family talk."
"O-oh! Sorry, I uh... the house is... r-r-really... messy..."
"It's alright and of no problem, we can clean it up together then. A good family bonding experience right? Hahahaha!"
Nyx said nothing, but her cheeks are red once more. The other 2 just watched their exchange, clearly have a differing thoughts upon one another...
'Holy shit. This woman, the equivalent to that of rampaging tuskbeast of a juggernaut, can be cute too!?'
'... Nyx is too emotional, her stance is rigid, her guard is all over the place, her mind is clearly disturbed... what happened to her?'
[END OF CHAPTER]
Author's Note:
Hello there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who was lost... somehow...
Can you believe it? Młynar used to be more optimistic like Margaret Nearl. His leitmotif even stated verbatim that he used to fight with the same ideal his niece have taken with clear conviction and determination in the future.
His profile' document also stated that his arts is gentle, kind, and filled with bottomless fury. Most likely because of the shit he has to put up with, else his family house would grew even emptier from its resident.
Młynar had been fighting for justice and knightly virtue according to Nearl Family' Creed, "Fear Neither Hardship nor Darkness." But years of tragedy just turned him cynical.
As for why they here, the next chapter will explain it and some more like usual.
And as for the É̷̻ͅl̶̝̭̓̈́̚͜d̸̙͑͘͝r̶̥̤̱̎͘ȉ̷̩̠̤̃̏t̷͙͑̑̀c̸̬̩͋̍h̶̾̐͜ passages? ...
:)
Update as usual, I.E somewhere in the future.
Ciao
