Speech = ``...´´
Thoughts = [... }
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``Why are we here…, what did you do this time? ´´
Mordred said, his voice calm and collected..., like the still crystal waters of a pond inside a palace own garden. Yet there was a hint of danger lingering at their edge, a silent threat that his polite, stoic facade could not hide well enough for spilling out into the open as his eyes bared almost hatefully into the object of his present hatred.
A bald…
Ugly…
Fat man...
The very same one that stared at him dumbfounded before his face became creased in a myriad of lines, small pig eyes narrowing into thin slits as they tried, yet failing to return his glare.
``Me? Why are you looking at me to begin with...? I was not the one that called us here..!´´
Growled annoyed Nelson, his voice making that stupid looking moustache of his to twirl and shake as he did.
``Because whenever you are on and about a mess always follows you...as expected of a man of your lacking powers..´´
``What!? What in heavens name are you babbling about Mordred..?´´
He shook his head, annoyed at the ever building need to play at civility instead of getting what he wanted form the rotten carcass of wasted breath standing before him.
That..and the fact that he hated having to explain himself when he had been so painfully
His fellow Round appearing as interesting in the mind of the ninth chosen of the Cults most higher echelon of command as the very same filthy, human rag skinned scientist he had smacked around like the walking garbage that he was back in Orianna. Though now he was unable to do such therapeutic thing, forced to endure their presence.
In his opinion, that old man should have died long ago. His presence a reminder of the Cults failure to attend godhood even after so long and so much resources invested to the man's experiments.
The power he had taken for himself possibly better in the hands of another than where they remained until now, someone who had not grow fat and lazy in his position and knew their position beneath him in the totem pole...
Sadly that was not what had happened.
Not yet...
His light fray eyes would only continued to narrow in annoyance at that. The mere thought that he would have to wait filling the air between them with a foul scent that only he could pick up.
``You know what I mean, old man…I have better things to do than having to witness your failures, or worse, listen to them while wasting my time. What is it now? The church giving you problems? Or is the Inquisition finally picking the slack and found you are not as pious as you tried to be..?´´
The overweight eleventh knight of the round could only stare at him as if he had swallowed something terrible, his face growing scarlet, veins popping out on the exposed flesh of his bald head as the man was struggling whether to stand up from his seat or if he could even do that without tumbling the entire thing over.
In the end the man decided to merely hold onto his staff and grab it all the more tightly.
Disappointing Mordred for the lack of spine inside all that mass of fat, robbed to vent his frustration in a more...direct manner.
``Urgh…, you the youth have no respect for your elders any-more. What sorry state will the world be in if we allow scoundrel like you to take the reins..?´´
``You have us crying our eyes for you Nelson..., truly, we feel your pain.. ´´
Laughed Loki, his singsong voice echoing through the room with the sound of a harp, yet delivering all the mockery they carried within with grace.
A statement that drew the covered laughter and amused looks of the others present in the room as-well much to Nelsons chagrin.
``You bunch of sharp tongued snakes! You lot would have squat if us had not made the heavy lifting before…´´
``As far as I am aware…, you used the work of your subordinates and killed them soon after to claim the success as your own. What is there to cry about..´´
This time was Hela who barged in, the hooded Knight having remained mostly silent through the entire ordeal, now leaned closer, allowing the light of the dim lit room to reveal his lower jaw..warped in a hideous and diabolical grin.
``Are you questioning my honour you little upstart!?´´
``No, Lord Nelson..´´
``Then-´´
``I am denying its existence..´´
``You dare..!?´´
It was funny to see the old man rage out with such genuine hurt at something that was totally true.
He would have made for a good actor instead of the poor excuse of an archbishop that he had pretended to be.
But what little amusement would have been there to be drawn out from Nelsons pathetic attempts to regain control of the situation and to ease the pain his weak self respect had endured, there was none to find this time.
The useless, empty threats spouted from each and every member of the room as they jabbed at each other with their words and the way they kept making their useless and pathetic existence known time and time again to his fair hearing only served to anger him.
His jaws clenched tightly, his perfect teeth grinding against one another under the veil of his lips.
How dared they waste his time...
How dare they slight him this way...
They would pay for it.
Still, for better or for worse some of the other members of the rounds seemed to share his sentiment about the situation, perhaps not as strongly as he did, but they too would rather get things underway sooner, rather than later…
And yet..only one of them decided to stand up to actually do something about it was Jormungand.., though given his tendency to make himself heard at any given time perhaps had to do more with it. That man really liked the sound of his own voice, the rest considering themselves above this expectable and that they would rather not play mediator with those they considered lesser.
Because everyone here thought themselves the king of the castle while the rest were merely cattle dressed in fancy clothes.
The little shits did not understand that none of them really mattered. Their talents and powers mere shallow reflections of what in their twisted minds believed to be almighty.
``Enough, we are all annoyed and desiring to let out our frustrations given the recent events. Believe, my fellow Rounds...I know´´
Mordred scoffed watching the rest of the room finally start growing two braincells in between their ears. The fact that it had taken this long for them to start behaving and that he was sharing the same room with hem shamed him beyond measure.
``Which is why I ask of you to rein your impulses for a little longer, but the more you continue to quarrel like children, the more time we will waste-´´
``Children..!?´´
And just like that what would have been the firs steps to get things underway was sent down the drain as more and more voices started to join in their combined disbelief and childish outrage.
He wanted to smack his head at the sheer incompetence of his fellow Rounds. The thought making his blood boil and threaten to burst
``I will not stand here to be berated like this after having to make the travel here with such haste!´´
``You are comparing us to mere brats? Who do you think you are!?´´
``Don't look down on us bastard-!´´
``Perhaps he is just looking down on you Nelson´´
``And why would that be, Loki?´´
``Because you are as bald as a doornail though with far less future...´´
``Stop making jabs about my head you twisted little FU-!
CRRRAAAAKK…!
A fist slammed into the table, cracking the smooth surface with the same ease a rock would against an egg. And yet, the table survived, if just barely the ordeal as Mordreds fist raise slowly from the massive web looking crater.
His eyes narrowed to thin slits, yet burning with a renew fulgurous glow of murderous intent.
``If anyone waste another speck of breath...I will kill you´´
And he meant it.
In fact, that would make the cults progress towards their end goal ran all the more smoothly and the intellectual level of the Rounds skyrocket as a result.
Everyone seemed to take notice of it and shut their mouths for the moment. Lucky them….
It was only after a few seconds that turned into minutes that he realized that no one was going to speak up that he did.
``What are we doing here...?´´
``There has been...a strange situation developing´´
Said Jormugand, his eyes staring back at his. Not wavering an inch...
``You don't say…´´
Grumbled Nelson with sardonic intent though the fire in his voice had finally died out. He still decided to glare with contempt at Loki.
Children...he was surrounded by children.
``Regarding with the Midgard kingdom mostly, though there has been some elsewhere…´´
Mordred eyes narrowed in contemplation. Now that he thought about it, there had been an empty spot where the Fifth should have been. The old man pretending to be a young teen nowhere to be found. He had pegged it to the fact that the self proclaimed battle-master of the cult had deigned this reunion not worth his notice. Something that he should have praised had he not been forced too to endure this.
Still, perhaps there was more to it than he had fist thought…
``What I mean is that there has been a commotion inside the capital..´´
``That is to put it mildly..´´
Retorted Hela, earning a nod from his fellow Round.
``Perhaps, but it fits the criteria…´´
``And what could be this...phenomenon you speak off?´´
Questioned Loki, the man scratching the back of his head.
``The capital was attacked by an unnatural force, demolishing everything in its path..´´
``So a monster attacked? That was why you brought us here?´´
He found himself saying almost in disbelief and annoyance. Was this why he had to drop everything he was doing to reach here? For a mere monster attack..?
``It hurts me to believe it…., but I agree with Lord Mordreds posture. We should be working in conjuncture towards something more greater than the common monster attack´´
Muttered Nelson, tapping the table amiable though it was merely a facade.
``Not this time I am afraid…``
``And why is that?´´
Questioned the fake archbishop, his tone denoting bemusement, yet his eyes spoke otherwise.
He too was interested, albeit for different reasons.
``Tell me, Nelson... what sort of monster focus completely and only in targets that are only and precisely of the cult..?´´
What again?
``You heard me, something attacked us…, something attacked the cult and demolished through the city unposed.
``What did we lose? ´´
Asked the third seat of the Rounds. Clearly more interested in the material loses rather than the nature of the foe in question.
``We believe that we have lost at least ninety five percent of our material and resources in the Area, perhaps the actual amount is lower...but the time and resources we will have to spent to repair the damage parts are too much to even bother.´´
``That…that can not be!´´ Babbled Nelson.
``It is however the truth..´´
``But ninety five percent!? I would have believed a lesser amount, but that much!? Are you..?´´
``Yes, the damage was...substantial.´´
``How did you manage to get a good grasp on the amount of losses in such short spam of time?´´
``We have men in the Knights of the kingdom..they did it for us´´
``Where is Fenrir…´´
Mordred cut off dead on its tracks what appeared to be another nonsensical and petty squabbling about what was real or not.
This however drew everyone's attention towards him.
``That is the second thing we wanted to discuss with all of you present, the fifth of course excluded...´´
``And why would that be..?´´
``Because, Nelson...Fenrir is dead´´
That silenced everyone in the room. Even him, could not help but feel his body lean a little bit forward at the sound of the news.
He had expected them, yes…, but he had been taken aback all the same to actually witness those news in the flesh. For the rest of the rounds who had at least been eclipsed by the pale maniacs power such news must have been world shattering if not down right surprising.
Loki was the first one after him to regain his wits, shaking his head.
``Fenrir? Dead? Surely you jest…and I don't find it funny´´
``If only…, but his body was found or what was left of it by someone of what little men he had in the location.´´
``But he was one of us!´´
``How could something lie that happen?´´
``So that old dog finally bit the dust? Cant say that I am surprise...he was always more of a brute than a thinker..´´
A voice he did not recognise intruded on, looking to his far left he found its owner. A thin, without a noticeable built under his clothes stood a man with short, black hair and sharp features in his pale face. A pair of glasses over the edge of his nose.
Jormungand glared at the man the same way one would down on a stain in their cloth.
``And here we would have thought you would be worried about the lost of our battle-master.. ´´
``The cult has lost more than that before and we have always recovered, besides…, someone capable to beat that brute at his own game can only be an even more brute. I doubt we would have much difficulty beating them at our game.´´
``I am pretty sure that Fenrir thought the same, look where that led him..´´
Chuckled Nelson darkly, some of the Knights laughed at that, he did not….
He was too busy burning two holes into the new addition to the room skull. To the point that the man in question started to shrink away from his glare, sweat trailing down his pale skin as he felt the more and more uncomfortable under his gaze.
``Is something wrong Lord Mordred..?´´
``Yes, who the fuck are you..´´
``E-eh!?´´
The man mumbled in disconcert at the sharpness of his answer. Clearly not ready for it in the slightest.
Such weakness….had no place in the rounds.
``I-well...of course you may not know me my Lords for I have not been here before-
``He is name is Pathos…, he serves under me. Please don't mind his words, he had a bad relation with our former fifth seat..though he does speak the truth. Fenrir was more a warrior than a thinker...´´
Spoke Jormungand, his voice coolly and simple...as if he was stating the line of a book.
He was not amused by it, rather the contrary. His nostrils flared and his eyes twitching.
[So this is how it is?]
``I don't bring my dogs with me each time to take a piss, why should you get the opportunity to do the same?´´
``You are so crass...your words surely match your interior…´´
``Did the raven call the kettle black..?´´
A grimace warped around the other mans face, but instead of pursuing his words he decided to let it be...
``Still, he has worked hard for the cult, soon enough he will be here with us...and give my endorsement of his acts I think that it will eventually happen whether you like it or not´´
``The rules are the rules, Jormungand. The next time you bring him here while he is not a member of the Rounds I will serve his head on a plate for you..´´
...
...
``I see it fair enough…´´
``Now, was that it? If so even though the damage may be seem great…, its not irrecoverable. Whatever damage we have received, it will heal rather easily. There is always more warehouses in our domain, more men to throw at the meat grinder..´´
``Well, yes...but we have lost something else too..´´
``And what would that be..?´´
``We have lost the arm..´´
…
…
Mordred Slowly stood out from his seat, his eyes twitching and his hands shaking uncontrollably as his fingers started to dig into further into the cracks his fist had made..
``You MEAN the arm that was been guarded there..?´´
``Yes..´´
``The very same arm that belongs to Diabolos?´´
``Yes..´´
``One of the two limbs we need to make the pills that grants us our strength and immortality that we have been taking for thousands of years!?
``Yes..´´
``Then why didn't you FUCKING start with that...!?´´
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A/N
Here is another chapter, I hope you enjoy it. Review if you like.
A brief glimpse to the other Knights of the Round and their antics with one another as they try to make heads of what actually is going on.