Day 1 after the Transfer
Sebas 1
The halls of the fifth floor were devoid of sound save for the head butler's resonating steps. The royal serfs who would ordinarily be present for cleaning and guarding were now absent by the order of the king in his want for loneliness.
Sebas Tian was rather dismayed at this divergent behaviour in his liege. However, he did admit that the day signalled a major step forward for the kingdom— to be an empire in the near future— a leap in its rebuilding and expansion. It would have been odd for the king to display no oddities, yet this was out of the norm.
Perhaps even a bit extreme.
The dragonoid allowed himself a sigh and some lax in his stoicism. A display he only dared to show in the absence of judgment. A look to the left and he saw his current image reflected to him upon the pristine white marble walls striped with gold and jade.
An aging man with short greying hair and a similarly short trimmed beard stared back at him, eyes sharp and blue. An immaculate butler suit edged with platinum fabric adorned his body, and a pair of black leather patents on his feet. In his right hand was a folder of files retrieved from the surveillance department along with reports of vague origins.
His lips twisted into a small frown, a slight furrow in his brows accompanying it. Never was it a pleasant day when his king's unnamed unit submitted reports along with the normal bunch. He just hoped this would not add to his liege's odd mood.
Or worse, morph it into pure displeasure and frustration.
The gleaming fluorescent light— the likes of which hung countless on the pale reflective ceiling in the form of pendant orbs and priceless chandeliers— caught his mildly wrinkled face in his moment of over thought and wild rumination.
His head returned frontward, and he noted he was just a few dozen steps from the king's private study. Normally, there would be two royal guards decked out in epic-grade armour and weaponry guarding the gilded ornate double doors but today it was bereft of these noble sirs. In their place were the unseen shadows of his king, hidden in places one would find difficult to discover.
Yet unlike most the dragonoid was able to spot them with middling difficulty, his draconic heritage granting him refined sensory capabilities. Not to mention the treasures the hider warriors were equipped with. They stank of value and murder, however phantom it had become.
Though he did admit that the entire castle did mask the worst of it, given the grand value of the entire building and the Yggdric Force that wafted off it. Yet Ninpō did give off a unique scent.
Ku!
A dark practice of utilising the energies of void to facilitate concealment Hiden.
Sebas was able to hide his disdain for the mujin, though he felt that deceit only rang true in his mind. He was in no way a cold face devoid of any expression— doubtful any noble soul was— his stoicism was no blockade of emotions, merely a professional front he felt necessary in this line of employment and high judgment.
His attention towards the mujin was brief and cold. And they in turn did not accost him nor bar his way, not that their efforts would bare any fruit upon his person.
…an insidious train of thought, he noted.
Now that was a disconcerting surprise. He wondered if his master was not the only person inflicted by a mood of oddity this fine day, or mayhaps his own hostility was a symptom of his king's current state.
His liege did certainly possess an oppressive presence about him— the great boon of his transcendent bloodline— thus such a possibility was not out of the norm. Nor was it that absurd to assume.
Yet Sebas was a man of principle, not a cowardly cur who would foist his own shortcomings upon other peoples.
'I'll need to find time to meditate on these feelings of mine,' he decided. 'Queer they might be but the mujin were among one of the most loyal lot to the crown. My own beliefs need not cloud that fact.'
It was truly unlike himself to desire conflict with those he disagreed with, much less a violent one, the demonologist not withstanding of course.
The butler took a breath, centring his emotions.
The huldar-oak door loomed before him, though they were not as suppressive as the throne doors. These were a pair of brown varnish doors littered with numerous scarletite in a form of a rippling circle with each fragment housing a specialised defensive enchantment. The handles were a silver circle with simple holds for push and pull, themselves devoid of any spell tampering.
They were quite an exquisite piece, if a bit mild in wastage.
He came to a stop mere inches before the doors, a fleeting sense of nervousness within his heart. While his king's order did bar actual wander, he did not prohibit official visitations. Yet even with that, the butler felt the weight of reluctance take residence upon his shoulders.
Did his king not deserve this moment of silence? Who was Sebas to rob him of this leisure?
The dragonoid blinked.
…again, he acted unlike himself.
Was it truly his liege's influence that disturbed his emotions so?
It truly mattered little what his feelings were on the matter. All he needed to understand was that he was primarily here to deliver the lady queen's request to her royal husband, a beckon the dragonoid knew his king would be overjoyed to oblige.
He looked down his hand holding the orange folder— he already skimmed the surveillance files as was his duty as an aide to his liege— these documents were not truly a priority, save for the black report.
An exhale once more came from his lips, the simple action performed in pair with the ripple of the butler's Ki, both internally and externally.
The mujin did tense at the metaphysical shift, he sensed, but they were just as quick to calm when no danger was perceived.
A frown almost morphed his lips at the mere presumption, yet his tact won out.
His Ki managed to smooth back his attire to its pristine grace, though in all fairness it never lost its splendour, as was the butler's near flawless elegance.
Yet nerves were never a thing of logic when taut.
As soon as the dragonoid resolved himself and made to knock— an action provoked by the absence of proper guards— the door jawed open with nary a screech.
The dragonoid's simple entrance within the private solar of his king was slow and deliberate, a patience close to stiffness haunting his muscles. His eyes roamed the splendid study, searching for something he had not yet decided on, yet was all the same determined to discover, lest his liege sense the awkward tenseness wafting off his person.
His blue eyes flickered towards the dark brocade walls coated with gold, a steady gaze roaming over the disenchanted three-pin lanterns mounted on the walls and the tasteful gilded artworks occupying a central section of each wing.
Situated on the central-most part of the east wall was a marvelous fireplace, barred by a thin golden fence, with a lounge chair placed a few steps beside it and a small table to place leisure books…
The hearth did not dance with fire, he noticed, nor was there any trace of its recent burn.
Yet that was no interesting sight, much so given that the sun was up and about.
…a pair of soft cherry couches sat opposite each other with an ornate black painted coffee table in the middle of the room, and a gem filled chandelier hung atop them like a floating crown.
Behind Sebas, the doors closed with a soft click, and the butler took that as indication to walk towards his liege's desk still empty of parchment and paper.
As he moved, his attention finally turned towards the western wall where the windows facing the city's commercial district filtered in the shadowed light.
There, King Arathron stood near the northernmost window, his molten gaze transfixed on the charm outside the castle. Around him, phantom lepidopterans shaded rose with flecks of gold fluttered free, fading and emerging into real-space like an ill-spun illusionary spell.
Yet this was far from something false in nature.
It took but a second for the dragonoid to understand the significance of what was taking place before him, his stoic countenance crumbling into something shocked and awestruck.
However ingrained etiquette held true, and Sebas restrained himself until reaching the appropriate position to begin greetings and relay requests.
"Morning, Your Majesty." He began, an easy but appropriate bow conveying his respects despite his king's lack of turn. "I do hope this day finds you well."
"Quite so, Sebas." Was his king's simple reply, yet the butler sensed there was something queer about his tone.
Returning to his straight posture, Sebas placed the folder he had brought atop the king's desk while his eyes remained glued on his liege's form as his newly awakened bloodline danced around him.
'I was right.' He thought, watching as the butterflies emerged straight from the king's clad body, the insects taking the shade of his fashion in their ethereal state. 'His Majesty's bloodline was affecting my emotions somewhat.'
Through his Ki-infused sight, he saw that each burst of lepidopterans sent a wave of agitation and reluctance in a unique blend of Mana and Yggdric Force as per the Liaqen bloodline.
…as per Fyr'Luë!
Though there was little purchase on his emotions this time around. The false calm awarded by [Zen Fortitude] through his utilisation of his internal Ki— albeit it was barely a comprehensive amount— thwarted away any external mental and emotional attacks, granting him much needed normalcy.
Or at least something close to it.
"You are staring, Sebas," King Arathron said, finally turning from the window and looking straight at the dragonoid with eyes of molten gold. He had an amused smile on his face, and the sight of it dispelled whatever unease had been plaguing him all morning until now. "I ask you not to be frugal with your thoughts and share them with me."
It was truly interesting the way the elves formed common speech with their lyrical voice boxes.
Calmer now, the butler gave an apologetic bow, "Your pardon, Majesty. I was merely enthralled by your awakened Fyr'Luë." He admitted quite freely, watching as his liege graced over to his chair and languished upon it— albeit not with uncouthness. He continued, "Yet I find myself curious of its encompassment. I feel it isn't as straightforward as the recorded manifestations."
A look came by the king's face, the pass of it painting it into something forlorn. "No… It is not." His words were low, a pale hand lifted up near his face in an attempt to do…something, Sebas felt.
He dared not interrupt his liege, feeling he was working over his emotions and thus needed the silence somewhat.
The Fyr'Luë began to recede after a short pass.
"Fortunately, its different nature isn't something of great mystery." He said, looking at the dragonoid, then he frowned, "Do not stand on ceremony, Sebas. Sit."
The butler did so, "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Man, you are way too frivolous with your gratitude." The elven monarch muttered under his breath, some feigned annoyance injected into his tone.
Sebas paid the odd lingo little heed and instead focused on his liege's prior statement. "No great mystery? Is such a thing common within Your Majesty's bloodline? Is it a mutation?"
The king shook his head, his snow-pale hair dancing with the motion. "It's a foolishness directed by a lesser creature in a state of aggravated fancy." He scoffed, half paying attention. "I will not provide you with a direct answer, I'm afraid. This matter is not something I'm keen on sharing."
King Arathron reached for the folder, immediately disregarding all the other documents save for the unnamed report.
The butler's lips did not quite pull into a frown, but it was something close. His liege was being rather dismissive of his grand achievement; an awakening of one's bloodline was something to be celebrated.
'Why does he have to be this terse…' he lamented. Perhaps he should inform the lady queen about this matter. She might be abl—
"I can tell that you are scheming, Sebas." The king's voice cut through his thoughts, "This need not be a grand affair. More so on this day of significant development." He spoke without his eyes swaying from the report in his hand, "Do not let something so personal shadow it in any manner."
"Pardon the bluntness, Your Majesty. But I feel that you are significantly downgrading the importance of this achievement."
The king scoffed, eyes still roaming the black file, "If you think summoning ghost butterflies is something grand then I worry about your judgement skills, butler."
Sebas wanted to say that was not all the Fyr'Luë was capable of, he knew that was not all it was capable of… But it would be useless. His liege would not barge on this, he knew.
"Understood, my king." He acquiesced, tone formal and inflectionless.
"Wonderful," came the excited exclamation, though it took no genius to hear the falseness of it. "I will have you summarise the findings from the surveillance department for me. What have they found of these lands west of the continent."
Understanding the dismissal of pleasantries, the dragonoid's body subconsciously went into a state of duty. Within his periphery, he caught sight of his liege rolling his eyes at him.
Sebas ignored it, of course.
"Ah, yes. It was much and more lady Nigredo's department have been able to find." He retrieved back the reports and began to summarise them. "First, we seem to be sandwiched between a great forest west of Elgroth and an imperial nation east of our great city. Though the closeness of their proximities is something else entirely."
The king hummed, "Were they able to discover the names of these grand locations?"
"Not quite, my king. Though they were able to determine the extent of their governance." His liege gestured for him to continue, still reading the report in his arms. "We seem to be in lands unclaimed. What used to be fiefdoms west of our imperial neighbour seemed to have been abandoned, perhaps from a recently fought war, they are still unsure on that it seems…"
"It is a result of a succession war." King Arathron provided, a small frown on his face. "A still ongoing one by the looks of it."
The butler eyed the black file in his liege's hands. He was not ignorant of the unsavoury aspects of rulership.
"Don't waste your worry, Sebas. These were evil men we extracted this information from. Ruthless and sadistic men who pillaged and raped and trafficked without remorse. I'm sure their victims would sleep well knowing what befell them."
The dragonoid didn't pry for the specifics of their fates, he merely returned back to his recount. "Of course, Your Majesty." He flipped over a page, eyes scanning over the information with hastened perception, "As for near settlements, there seems to be a couple of large villages north and south of Elgroth with a few small ones scattered among them. Unfortunately, it appears most of the villages had been recently destroyed and some hastily abandoned. Most of which are from the south."
"Anything specific about these attacks?"
"Aye, from further scrying, the department has concluded that the attacks were most definitely undead in nature." Sebas supplied.
This time, the king looked at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"That's quite curious." his liege muttered softly, "I suppose no amount of carefulness can stop ripples from forming." He turned his attention back to the file in his arms before increasing the volume of his voice, "Tell me of the findings from E-Rantel— the thrice fortress city south of the map. More specifically, the density of its Negative Energy."
The dragonoid began to flip the pages before he found the described city, though like all the locations reported, it had no name. "There's little out of the ordinary about its Negative Energy, my king. At least that's only in comparison to the rest of the cities discovered. There seems to be some level of Death Miasma present in their burial grounds."
"I'm sure the problem lies with the churches here." His liege chuckled at his own words. Sebas found no amusement from them. Allowing burial grounds to fester with Death Miasma was no different from knowingly facilitating a disaster.
"Worry not, I'll have some of our fanatics purify their grounds once we make contact with them. It shouldn't be long."
Finally, the king placed the black report down, done with its read. He let a weary sigh leave his lips before reaching into the void realm that was his [Riftspace] and retrieved a small notepad.
"You really shouldn't have wasted all that time making edgy curb-stomp plans based on canon relevant events." His liege said to himself. The butler could barely comprehend half of the words spoken.
A flicker of subjugated Mana brushed through his senses as a cast black flame started to obliterate the tiny book. "[Focused Magic: Void Ember]!"
"Quite the extreme spell for something so mundane, no?" He asked.
His liege's expression morphed into something melancholic…and regretful as he watched the pad vanish from written reality, "If you knew the things scribed in there, you'd probably think it wasn't enough."
Sebas glanced at the half vanished book and found that he did not really care about its contents. "If you don't mind me asking, my king. Is something set to happen in this…E-Rantel place."
The elven monarch shrugged, the gold of his red brocade jacket vest gleaming off the natural light from the window at the graceless action. "Not anymore, I'm afraid." He sighed once more, "I was hoping to find Khajiit Dale Badantel. He is one of the twelve apostles within the Order of Zurrernon. I'm quite curious about this cultist group, you see. I suspect they have a connection to another elusive group which its self is in contact with a very unique individual."
"And the Negative Energy?"
"Oh, dear butler. These are undead cultists. Terrorist cultists."
Information [Magics]
1. Yggdric Force: The metaphysical energy utilised by WCI. I.E the uniqueness of world items.
2. Ninpō: Ninja magic. Not jutsu, Magic.
3. Ku: Void Energy uitilised by ninja to perform forhidden jutsu and rituals.
4. Hiden: Forbidden jutsu.
5. Ki: A spiritual energy utilised by Monks and other some such spiritual practitioners.
6. Mana: An arcanic energy utilised by mage to cast spells.
7. Fyr'Luë: Bloodline of the Liaqen lineage. Basically World Item fuckery via hacking. I'm not giving any thing away. It's elven in name (I.E made up).
8. [Zen Fortitude]: Mental Defence technique utilised by spiritual practitioners of a certain level.
9. [Riftspace]: An inventory space.
10. [Focused Magic: Void Ember]: A 10th tier spell that forces whatever it is cast upon into an unknown void realm in a mimicry of burning.