A year had passed.
Such a cruel immortal you are, Time, speeding by when one wishes for you to slow down, and then inching by with an old man's cane when one becomes stricken with grief.
One pale, flawless finger, or so it seemed, traced the railing of the balcony he was standing upon, the wind rustling through his ankle length Commander's coat and the feather pinned to his golden brimmed black tricorne hat.
Even now, it hurt, it ached within his heart, thinking back upon that dreadful day of his most abysmal failure.
His left hand tightened around the railing, the memories threatening to return before his very eyes until he forced them back -
"It is in your... hands now... Supreme Commander."
The clockwork king's sword slipped from his hand, clattering onto the floor of the throne room. His body stilled, and life fled from those once powerful hands that had protected, defended all of Valencia, the whole Spiral from the tyranny of the mad Napoleguin -
"Supreme Commander."
The black clad figure spun around, moonlight reflecting from his mask covered appearance, to face the slim figure of the female Royal Guard captain behind him, still half concealed in the shadows cast by the walls of the fortress; a sliver of light reflecting from the halberd she leaned most of her weight upon.
"What is it, Captain Quintia?"
His voice came out monotonic, just as clipped as anyone would expect from a clockwork.
How ironic that I must use a voice that is not even mine, even though I command the entire Valencian Armada.
"Your elite court is asking for your presence, Supreme Commander, it would be beneficial if you can answer to their request."
How could he have forgotten the fact they still had some of the more major objectives to tend to? That he had called for this meeting personally to discuss about those?
Without another word, the Supreme Commander swept through the double doors leading into Cadiz from the balcony he had stood on for the previous hour, passing by Quintia on his way to the war council chamber.
As he walked down the hallways, he found himself stopping by an old door that looked like it had not been dusted off for some time; raising a single hand to wipe the dust off the brass plaque that might have been once polished to a steely shine mounted on the door.
Admiral U. Septimus.
No one would have been able to see the twitch of his lips behind his mask, though it was certainly there.
Everything had changed so fast in the course of the last two years.
Turning away and continuing his walk down the hallway, with several of the patrolling clockworks he had passed by saluting him in acknowledge of his position, it still felt as though it was only yesterday he sat in that office, nursing a glass of Valencian wine before the alarm of intruders within the fortress sounded.
The memories following made Ulysses Septimus' gloved hands tighten into fists, trembling at his side for a brief second, before the Supreme Commander swiftly corrected them; continuing on and halting only enough in front of the doors leading into the war council chamber for the two Royal Guards posted there to fling them wide open.
"Supreme Commander."
All five of the elites - Rooke, Bishop, Deacon, Phule, and Cristobal - rose in perfect synchronization, their right arms snapping into the classic Armada salute at their leader.
Ulysses was silent, though he did nod once to acknowledge them, taking his throne at the head of the table: surveying the many maps laid out before him.
"Have a seat: I trust that each of you know why I have summoned your presence here?"
The silent answer of "affirmative" could be felt in the very air of the chamber.
"General Rooke." The Titan clockwork immediately stiffened, the way any of the Armada should when spoken to by the Supreme Commander.
"How goes everything with the rebels of Marleybone?"
Marleybone was annexed into the Valencian Empire just a little more than a year ago, when they faced their defeat in the hands of the clockworks and Assassin forces; signing a peace treaty with Valencia, agreeing to submit and become a part of her Empire and give tribute yearly in exchange for peace, after the display of power shown by the titan battlecruiser the Empire.
Despite that, however, there were still a few radical groups within that world, perhaps two out of every twenty citizens, calling for the liberation of their world from Valencian rule.
Naturally, such rebellions had to be properly crushed, something which Ulysses found himself confident of entrusting to his warlord, whose lust for battle seemed to be insatiable.
"They have been driven back onto their last bastion of defense, Your Majesty."
Rooke's voice had an air of pride to it, as though he was the one that had accomplished such. Septimus supposed he could say so, in a way; raising his left hand in a lazy signal for him to continue.
"Three of their elite warriors have perished in combat, leaving two leaders remaining: if I may be granted three to six more months, I assure you, Your Majesty, they will be completely decimated."
Internally, the newly named Supreme Commander of the Armada winced. While he would have no doubt flown into a rage at anyone else showing insolence, Rooke's not - exactly - concealed sour tone, no doubt a reaction to Ulysses' lack of acknowledgement at his accomplishments, felt more like a knife stabbed right into his heart (if any fragments of his heart still remained).
It reminded him, in everyway, how he was nothing but a weak impersonator of Kane himself. It reminded him it was his fault that his god was dead.
"Permission granted."
Thankfully, his voice came out organized and powerful due to the microscopic vocalizer attached to his mask.
Ulysses turned his attention away from Rooke, to the spymaster Deacon, so far the only elite aside from his mentor Cristobal who actually respected him.
"Any reports from Secundus, spymaster?"
"None yet, Your Majesty, Secundus has maintained only minimal communication as of late, though his latest report is… interesting, to say the least."
Behind his mask, Septimus arched a singular eyebrow as Deacon producing a single sheet of parchment from the folds of his coat and sliding it across the table to him.
Although Secundus' writing was normally very organized and legible, the writing upon this particular report was a furious scribble, the works of someone fearing of a chance of being discovered of writing down some horrendous secret that could potentially threaten their lives.
An excerpt? How strange...
Even though the Latin was scribbled and the grammar was atrocious, Ulysses could dicipher it to be a excerpt out of the story of Hawkules of Aquila; his quest to destroy the Hydra, to be more precise -
Hawkules had then spoken to his valiant cousin of how they should lure the snake out of hiding, Iolaus spoke nothing and simple took a torch, sending smoke into the cave of the great red serpent, forcing the scarlet snake to come out of hiding and face the mighty hero.
Something stirred within Septimus upon finishing reading the report, something he had long forgotten to keep under a lock and now slept upon the ruins of its previous prison.
What else could the scarlet snake be but the Templars? Iolaus is Secundus, and Hawkules represents myself, for what other is the mark of the Order but an eagle?!
"I see..."
Ulysses slid the parchment back to the Royal Spymaster, Deacon folding it up and tucking it into his coat.
"Now onto the next topic, our conquest of the Spiral."
A holographic map was immediately projected from the massive table, all of the known worlds displayed upon it: Krokotopia, Marleybone, Aquila, Skull Island, Darkmoor, Cool Ranch, Polaris, and so forth.
Marleybone was already marked with the symbol of Valencia, and the mark of the Valencian Assassin Order, symbolizing their status as a vessel world of the Valencian Empire; Cool Ranch remained unmarked, unclaimed, just like Aquila, but that would soon change, yes; Skull Island remains nothing more than a smoldering ruin, a ghost town of what it once was; Krokotopia bore a single grey question mark, just like Darkmoor and Grizzleheim.
"I do believe our next, and optimal, target would be here."
A single finger jabbed at the hologram of the world of Aquila.
"For reasons as the following: the Aquilan ruler is nothing short of a weak minded fool. Take control of him, and the whole world comes under Valencian rulership. There is also the likely possibility of them throwing themselves into our hands, if our forces are to aide them in defeating their enemies, the Serpents of Illios."
"With your permission, Supreme Commander,"
Bishop had spoken next, shifting his staff from one hand to the other.
"What makes you so certain they would bow down to us, once the emperor comes under our hands?"
The Armada engineer's words were sharp, yes, though they fell quite short of the target when compared to Rooke's, for some reason. They may have followed through with the previous Supreme Commander's orders to obey Ulysses' commands, they did not refrain from making stinging remarks, be it directly or indirectly, before him.
For a rather unnerving second, Ulysses found himself devoid of words, unable to reply to Bishop's.
"The Aquilans hold their emperor as a god, so they will follow his wishes unconditionally. They may not be as obedient to him now, but if he is to deliver exactly what the crowd wanted, give them what they thought he could not do..."
Ulysses permitted his voice to trail off there.
"All while we hold him up like the puppet he is, such is a very crafty plan, Supreme Commander."
Cristobal had remarked with a silver of a smile beneath his thick, but well groomed, rust - colored beard, flipping the drafting compass around in his fingers with expertise practiced from boredom grown from when he was crafting weapons.
"It shall be put in motion immediately, Commander, I shall send a missionary to Aquila first matter tomorrow morning."
"Grazie for your prompt response, Spymaster, such would be a wise decision."
"And I shall contact the Neo - Aquilan branch, they should be more than happy to aide us in this, and orchestrating the defeat of the Serpents."
Cristobal had only added his piece once Deacon finished speaking, Ulysses met the eyes of his mentor in a silent indication he was thankful for his effort. For much like Ezio (just thinking of his brother's name made his heart wrench within his chest cavity, Ulysses's fingers curling around the armrests of his throne) was able to, Cristobal Auditore seemed to have the power to understand whatever thought or word is on Septimus' mind, even without the younger Assassin speaking first.
How much longer will we have to wait until our empire is completely built? How much longer until those two bastards be running out of their hiding places like animals driven from a burning forest?
And finally -
How much longer will we wait until El Dorado becomes property of the Armada?
As long as this period of time would be, Ulysses Septimus had not forgotten his quest, the original mission his master and god had given him before he was brutally murdered by his two enemies. But before he dealt with their blood, there was something else...
"General Rooke."
The tension within the titan clockwork's massive frame was easily seen, his head turning toward him with a subtle click of the gears in his neck in a silent yes, Commander?
"You have permission to take the control of any and all battles we may engage with the Serpents."
As much as Rooke may have opposed him indirectly, Ulysses found it almost amusing that just one mention of the possibility of war and spilling blood would have gotten the clockwork knight riled up like a child promised their favorite treat. He had played his card right, he was certain of it.
Ulysses allowed his eyes to scan over the war council chamber once more.
"Meeting adjourned."
Silently, each of the elites rose from their seats and exited, Rooke first, with Phule cackling by his side in the fashion of a demented shadow, Bishop following suit with Cristobal being the last to exit.
Ulysses found himself remaining seated on his throne, the chair Kane himself had once sat in. He had chosen not to focus on the only elite that had not yet left, though it certainly was difficult to ignore the piercing gaze of the Armada spymaster upon him.
"Has any information been recovered regarding our top two foes, spymaster?"
I cannot trust any other of them to realize the importance of this matter, save for Deacon himself. He knows all of my reasoning as well as mentor does...
"Negative, Supreme Commander."
As per usual, Deacon's words were short, clipped, and official; somehow sounding louder than usual, though Septimus suspected that it was most likely due to the fact now they were the only two elites within this chamber.
"I trust I do not need to restate why I want them in my hands to be punished, or why the map hunt must continue on, signore Deacon."
With one hand, Ulysses once more plucked the mask from his face, gazing upon the black visors set within the sockets for the eyes with his own crimson ones. How long had it been since he gazed upon this Spiral with his own two eyes?
"No, you do not, messere Septimus."
Deacon had maintained his official voice, though his switching into the native dialect of Valencia was unmistakable. Of all the elites, Ulysses thought within his mind, the spymaster alone seemed to be the most human of them all, yet also the most inhuman one.
"I will ensure my full effort that both Atticus Mercilus and Adrian Vries Devereaux are brought to the justice of the Armada, for what crimes they have committed in the past. A debt owed with blood must be paid with blood, after all. As for the pieces of the El Dorado map, what belongs to the Armada will eventually be the property of the Armada."
"Grazie, spymaster."
"It is my duty to serve you, Supreme Commander."
Deacon placed his right hand curled into a fist, to the area directly above what would have been his heart, had he been a human.
"Per la gloria dell'Armata."
With that, the spymaster once more melted into the shadows, leaving the room as though he was never even there, leaving Septimus alone with his thoughts.
Now alone, Ulysses found himself mesmerized by the mask's gaze, the very same way his master, his king's gaze would pin him down on the spot he was seated at , as though it held a physical weight that prevented him from flinching, or even any other action at all.
It was only then that Septimus permitted himself to feel the pain that had been building up behind the dam he had tried so hard to maintain.
His entire body trembled from the agony that had been unleashed, both fresh and old.
Master, why...? Why must it all be so? I did not... I did not want it all to be like this-!
Slowly, Ulysses brought the mask he had been only wearing minutes earlier, the mask modeled to resemble the previous Supreme Commander, his very god himself, up and pressed his lips to its own. He might as well have torn out his own heart with this action.
Guide me, my lord and master, lead me as you had in the past-!
But the past was still the past, was it not?
The past was irreversible.
Hello all, yes, I am back again :D with the brand new story of Valencian Empire: El Dorado! I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter of the continued madness of Ulysses, and I shall have the next chapter uploaded by next Friday/Saturday (subject to change because guess who just got a summer job?). Also a big thanks to my beta reader Severina de Strango for helping me with this story, grazie, maestro ^^.
I do appreciate reviews: they help me write faster and better :D.
Until next time my dear readers!