Countless days and nights have passed since the commencement of the Black Being's haunt. Maybe weeks of three or four. Perhaps. Octavia couldn't tell for her slumber was no more and pressure was no less. Dark rings were evidence enough for her dedication towards this union. Her severe disappearance near the Aletic Lake and her pleasant company in the Grand Library were of no surprise. She appeared as pale as she ever was in the moonlight, frightening even the usually stoic Morgan.
The King slumped to find the blonde yet in another pile of scrolls, except this time- she had the heart to utilize the sturdy tables and chairs instead of stone floors. He stomped towards the young lady. "That is it," he exclaimed, loud enough to make his anger towards her clear yet soft enough to not sound vexed. "What is left to know, Octavia? Haven't you done enough?" She kept silent. "-At least for now?"
Octavia pinched her chin. She hushed the brunet, with much annoyance and waved an absentminded hand, even nearly patting him on the chest. "I'm in the midst of something,"
Arthur swung his arms and gave the most sarcastic smile he could. "Clearly,"
"No, you don't understand," she sighed, exasperated. "My research is divided into theories and stories, you see. Most of the description of the creature is very similar, when you compare the two. However, one aspect of it clashes quite severely,"
Arthur crossed his arms. Scolding wouldn't get her anywhere. The only option he had now was to listen. If discussing would put Octavia's heart at ease, then Arthur didn't mind joining in even when he couldn't fathom it. He sat beside her, glared at her fatigued face and then, at the pile of scrolls which she had marked and scribbled on. "What of it?"
The blonde turned to him and looked at him up and down. Her eyes seemed wary. She blinked for a while, considering whether her tiredness had made her imagine the King of Albion to be sitting beside her, only to listen her gibberish talk. She snickered and paused. He is real. "It's just-" She fumbled a bit, wondering if Arthur actually wanted to listen. "It would take a long time to explain this,"
"It would be longer if you don't explain it now," He nodded at the pile of parchment and books as his arm rested on Octavia's chair. "Better start now, don't you think?"
The former noble stared at him, then averted back to the table. She felt the sudden urge to curve her lips into a precarious smile at the mere thought of gushing her thoughts. But no, she had to be succinct. Say anymore and she might let a loyal supporter slip from her already weak possession. "A lot of the stories gathered from the villagers and the philosophers from Albion state that this creature is able to morph. Our greatest fears, deep inside us, take a physical form by this being's ability to shift its figure," she started with a hint of deep amusement in her findings. "As a strategist, the best way to lead an enemy to his doom is by playing with his weaknesses. Be it small or big. So, I started to research more on theories and philosophies- they might provide clues to their weakness but… This is the part where it becomes rather paradoxical,"
"Paradoxical?" Arthur squeaked.
"To contradict itself,"
"I know what it means,"
Octavia paused and continued without much thought. "I've always been one to believe in theories and philosophers, from the west to the east," the blonde continued, flipping through pages, which she had marked on books. Then, she closed them shut, furrowing her brows. She knew each line by heart. "Stories in my research act as confirmation. Whatever theorists state- storytellers provide real-life experiences to affirm their concepts. However…" She breathed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Arthur scooted in closer to hear her soft utters.
A shiver ran down Octavia's spine. "Many villagers say that the Black Being only appears at night. It's overt enough that that is their predominant reason why they prefer to travel through the forest during the day- to avoid them. Yet, the repudiation of that notion, that these creatures are nocturnal, come almost entirely from philosophers and theorists themselves, the ones who provided good detailed papers about the creature. So now- I'm a little bit confused as to which I'm supposed to believe in,"
Arthur looked at her. What she said was highly logical. This was crucial to determine when the group could set out to the woods. Still- at this point, the King didn't know what words were right to say as of the moment. "This must be the beginning of something bigger," he said, trying to sound on par to Octavia's cleverness. "There should be more stories to be uncovered that can support the theories. Or conversely. Many say that they only appear at the spilling of moonlight but are there some that would consider sunlight no less as weak as its nightly counterpart?"
Blue eyes groggily staring at Arthur, her shoulders perked up. "That actually makes sense," Octavia said, impressed by the King's point. "I just need to see which provides more evidence- the one with the most proof should be trustworthy,"
Arthur nodded accordingly. He too didn't know he could come up with an intelligent notion. Then, he found Octavia rummaging through the pile.
"Arthur," she called, fatigued. "Would you happen to know where some of my scrolls are? I fell asleep in the library one day, you see, and I suppose someone brought me back to my chamber. I came back here to find my writings either put to one side or gone,"
The King fell silent. Arthur had the important documents in his study. Not to mention the fact that he carried her all the way to the other side of the castle, with much ease, he liked to emphasize. He coolly shrugged off her concern. "I will ask Mark Antony," he lied bluntly. "I'm sure that trusty helper of yours would have a clue,"
Octavia winced. "Perhaps,"
Nero trotted down the lane as he munched on a roasted apple, cravat massacred by the dripping syrup. Irritated Mark quietly took out a handkerchief of his own and wiped it down the Emperor's chest, as how he did for the past couple of weeks. "You know what I should do, Antony?" Nero asked out of the blue as he casually ignored the struggling hand that wiped his cravat. "For the first movement I should do, following this alliance, it should be to introduce Gael's culture and food. Have you tried their apple-beef pies, my comrade?"
Mark internally sighed at this ruler. He still wondered whether Octavia's brother would have been a much better option than this, if he were still alive. Probably yes. "Afraid not, Your Majesty," he answered emotionless. "Each time I returned to our table, either you or Lady Octavia would beckon to ask for more pies. I was certain you two were trying to out-eat each other. Before I knew it, not only had the pies ran out, but the party had come to a full-stop,"
"HAH!" Nero laughed, nudging Mark by the arm. He wiped a single tear. "Oh, dear! That woman is still bitter to you, isn't she?"
Mark averted his eyes, folding his handkerchief before putting it back into his pocket. He was more shocked to have heard the blonde completely ignoring the fact that he too asked for more pies and not only his cousin. "She has the right to be so. I am not complaining," he replied, walking faster and ahead of the ruler.
Nero hummed cynically and pouted his lips. He rubbed his sharp jaw and felt the coarse sensation of his little beard patches. "If you say so,"
As they neared a junction, they began to approach a quiet area. From frequent walks around the Albion Kingdom, they knew that to the left would be the Aletic Lake, Octavia's favourite spot. Here, many people, unaccompanied, would bask in the sunlight as they enjoyed either small picnics or a book reading. However, before the two made it to the corner, they overheard small clanks of weapons. Nero and Mark knew all too well that those were clanking swords but somehow, they sounded high-pitched- as though they were small weapons- like daggers.
Curious, Mark had made his way to a small alley whose walls rebounded the small noises. Grunts and thumps were heard as well, echoing through the breezy tunnel. The stonewalls that towered over them grimly shadowed their silent appearance. Nero tailed behind him, disappointed to have discovered that his roasted apple was getting smaller and smaller with each bite. "What is that?" Nero mumbled, licking his lips, not bothering to keep his volume down. Mark nudged him on the ribs.
"A fight?" Mark promptly guessed and started strolling nearer to the wall, halting right behind the corner to have a peek. "Oh,"
"What is it?" Nero inquisitively queried as his arm made its way to rub his sore side. His head jutted under Mark's shoulders. He peered.
Right before their eyes were two small children who hopped from one obstacle to another as their tiny swords clanged at each other. Barrels and crates and even stone benches served as props to their practices. Observant of their struggles, it was prominent enough that the objective of their practice was to fight without actually touching the ground.
Just when Mark and Nero were about to come out and observe them from a shorter distance, a tall blonde woman appeared from the shadows of a tree, baring her Aurelian sword- her brother's sword, the two thought. It was unmistakable. The scabbard was red. The handles were of pure gold with red and blue décor. Octavia easily put an end to the practice when her sword bounced against a collision- making the kids topple to the ground.
"Rough," she said. Disillusioned. "Just rough,"
A boy and a girl was what frowned at the remark. They glanced at each other before looking up to their instructor.
"You are beginning to fight like your King," Octavia hissed as she withdrew her sword. She circled the crates before jumping onto one of them. Stabilizing herself, she spread her footing. "Arthur values brawns. I value brains and tactic. I would teach you a balance of both but only if you'd follow,"
She pointed her sword at the boy, ever so slowly, and jerked her head towards a barrel, ushering him to fight. Conal rubbed his arm with a frantic look. "Can't I try it again with Elyr?"
Mute, Octavia stared, patiently waiting for him as he was in the midst of climbing the barrel. Before balancing his petite body on the big object, Octavia stomped closer towards him, pretending to be ready for a pounce "Ah!" the boy leaped and fell onto the ground. His small body rolled over to his partner who promptly clasped her mouth. "I wasn't ready!"
The blonde sighed. Something was annoying her, Mark could tell. "As if I'll ever be prevailed upon to kill my lovely students," she said gently with rising eyebrows. "In battles, your enemies wouldn't care whether or not your are ready. I'm sure you're well aware of that," Her breath hitched, sliding an arm up to her hip and clenched her side. Without a word, she sheathed her sword.
Conal tilted his head. "Are you alr-"
"That's it for today," Octavia snapped. "Class dismissed," Her other hand loosened her cravat. "Would you happen to know where Rhiannon is?"
From their distance, Mark and Nero couldn't hear the rest of their small chitchat. But shortly after that incident, they saw the Imperial Strategist hurrying out to the castle.
"That's admirable," Mark commented, wiping the sweat that trickled down his neck.
"The fact: she fled the scene or the fact: she teaches?" Nero quickly asked.
Mark gave no response, observing the two kids.
"She teaches two youngsters, I see," Nero grumbled. He had the last bite on the apple. "She reminds me so much of him, don't you think so?"
Mark straightened his back and ushered his friend towards the Aletic Lake. "Who?"
The Emperor beamed. "Her brother,"