HEYO! This chapter was originally going to be one whole chapter, not two chapters looking at the members of Cardinal Descent (our resident BBEGs), but I was already almost at the length of the first chapter when this one was only halfway done. So we get two chapters!
I also have an announcement to make! I know some people needed extentions for their submissions, so the fic is open for another 2 WEEKS after the original close date. So instead of closing on Jan 30th, the fic will instead close on Feb 13th! For those interested in submitting, the form itself isn't on my profile, but a link to it is as the document it's on has a lot of worldbuilding info that you need to read! It's the tinyurl link with whitelotussyoc on it! There's also a server for White Lotus that has goodies like memes, music, art, what have you, so feel free to shoot me a DM to join!
I hope this is enough extra time for those who need it, and for those who want to do a last-minute submission, I hope this is enough time for you as well! In the meantime, we see three characters who are part of the guild in this chapter! I got very delicious submissions relating to the bad guys, so big thank you to Lawless-Afterlife and RevolutionaryCleo for your submissions!
Part 2 (and the full cast list) will be released on Feb 14th/15th!
02
Cardinal Descent (I)
Six years ago
Fir, Bosco
"What do you think, boss?"
She turned the hat over in her hands with a glare. What did she think? What did she think? She thought the hat looked absolutely hideous and ostentatious on the head of the woman whose slaves they'd just freed. It looked like a frock that didn't deserve to see the light of day, for its silken fabric decor and its diamante brooch drew far more attention than even a bride on her wedding day. If someone wore this hat in public, the collective classiness of the street would plummet several degrees. If someone saw this in a shop, they'd think that times had changed for the worse on the fashion front. If this hat was given in the form of a design prototype to a hatter, the hatter would kick the person proposing the design out of their store and ban them for life. If this hat was worn with even the most classiest of combinations of shoes and dresses and jewellery, it would still look so tone deaf and tacky that one would be mistaken for an idiot who won the lottery and had a warped idea of what trying to look vieux riche meant in their subsequent shopping spree.
Ariadne wanted it like a man stranded in the desert wanted water. She needed this hat.
She set it on her head and turned to the mirror behind her. Well and truly, it was an ugly hat, but it was a hat that screamed the owner had money to burn, and that was all Ariadne wanted in life. Enough money to fill the void in her gut, to keep her fed and clothed and overindulged in everything it could buy for the rest of her life.
"I love it," she decided. Her second-in-command, Terriod, beamed at the statement. He loved to work so hard to make her comfortable, especially after everything she'd done for them all. It always filled Ariadne's heart with so much joy, especially since they'd all gone through the same hell she had. All she wanted was her family to be happy. "You always know what to gift me, Theo."
It certainly looked bold with her outfit—one of the many ensembles she took from the younger daughter of the family's wardrobe, mixing and matching with her collection of jewellery—and Ariadne smirked as she posed in front of the mirror and admired herself. All the pretty dresses in the world, all the shiny jewellery she could find, and it all would look perfect on her.
Anything to fill that hole inside of her and keep her from imploding.
"I think it looks nice with the purple dress," Shelley chimed in. Ariadne looked over at the younger girl, and she saw the dress in question as Shelley held it up on its coat hanger. "I think they came in a set."
"I think you're right," Ariadne said with piqued interest.
As she approached Shelley, there was rustling from the corner of the room. Ariadne paused, sighing heavily, and she dragged her gaze over to the trio that sat huddled together. Honestly, they were doing so good, keeping their crying to a minimum. But now that a dress came into play, one of them wanted to chime in?
She stomped over to the trio—a mother and father, and their young daughter, no older than Ariadne herself—and she towered over them as the daughter struggled against the ropes binding her and screamed against her gag.
"You can't be thinking you get a say on whether or not I take your things," Ariadne said curtly.
This family, she'd been dying to get her hands on them forever. The Gough family were one of the families who benefitted most from the rampant slave trade in Bosco, hiring most of the slavers and illegal guilds that were found on every street, in every household, in everyone's lives at every hour of every day. One of the wealthiest families, to boot, and it all came from the blood money they stole from their former business partners.
Ariadne had been only thirteen when they'd hired someone to raid her family home. She was only meant to be held hostage, because killing such a respectable family as the Ennis family would surely put too many eyes on the Gough family, but of course the slavers hired by the Goughs felt Ariadne could turn them a profit if she was sold to someone with just the right tastes.
To think Redmayne and Yelena Gough had a daughter around Ariadne's age. They'd done well to hide their sweet little Ninel from the horrors and cutthroat business of slavery. Even now, as the freed slaves held her captive with her parents, Ninel thought she could boss them around with her authority.
"She's a bit stupid," Lenn said. She was trying on pieces of jewellery from the pile Ariadne had tossed aside for the others to pick from. The necklace strung with giant pearls hung around her neck and clacked loudly against the flat gold choker she wore under it. "Maybe we ought to show her how much danger she's in."
"We could," Ariadne sighed. It was all so pointless, though. The little idiot would paint herself as a victim, even if they took the time to properly explain to her precisely why they were justified in their actions against her. "I dunno. Maybe we should just do our usual until it sinks in. Do they own any lacrima collars? Just throw one on Ninel and let her figure it out herself."
"You should consider yourselves lucky," Terriod called out to the family. "Ari's far more merciful than any of you ever were. If it were up to the rest of us, you'd wish you were dead by the time we were done with you."
Redmayne nodded his head hurriedly, trying his best to convey that he understood, and Yelena sobbed so hard that her thick makeup was dripping off of her chin and onto her nightclothes.
Ninel didn't seem to understand just how much grace she'd been given, though.
She started yelling through her gag again. Ariadne scrunched up her face and sighed, biting back a groan. Really, were all rich kids this stupid? She remembered being a hell of a lot smarter, back when she had the money to burn. Maybe Ninel was just a whole new breed of stupid that wasn't affected by the number of zeroes at the end of her allowance.
She motioned for Shelley to bring the dress over. Ninel screamed some more, and for the briefest of seconds, Ariadne saw a magic circle flash behind Ninel's body. Intricate and gold, and while it was small, it looked like enough to pack a punch directly at Ariadne.
And then, just as quickly as the magic circle had appeared, someone ran forward and swung down hard against Ninel's back. A wooden chair from the ornate vanity cabinet shattered against Ninel's back, and the magic circle broke as Ninel gasped for air on the floor, the wind knocked out of her by the blow. Ariadne's brows rose, and she glanced to her left.
Liber was standing there, shaken and trembling as he held the broken back of the chair in his hands, and his face was deathly pale.
"Saint?" she asked, surprised. "Where have you been?"
Liber just shook his head, panting as he tried to collect himself. He dropped the remainder of the chair, a loud clatter sounding out, and he looked at Ariadne over his mess of hair.
"Ari… I'm so sorry…" he said softly. Ariadne tilted her head, laughing a little.
"Sorry for what? For hitting her?" She reached over and patted his shoulder. "She was going to attack me. I didn't know heroes were in the business of apologising for saving people."
He shook his head again. He shrugged off her shoulder. Liber reached into his pocket, hands still shaking, and he pulled a rolled up slip of paper from it. It was sealed with the Gough family crest in wax, split open by Liber when he'd likely found it to read its contents.
Ariadne took it and unfurled the paper. Everyone was silent as Ninel continued to gasp for air on the floor, the pain of Liner's strike setting in.
It was a contract. One signed by Redmayne himself, a copy for his own safekeeping so he could make sure it never saw the light of day.
Extermination of the Ennis family.
Confirmation of completion.
Ariadne stared at the paper. Did it… really say what she thought it said?
Her poor mother and father… Gone?
It couldn't be true. They had to still be looking for her—she was on the other side of Bosco, for heaven's sake! And the date this was signed… There was no way her parents had been dead since the day she was kidnapped. She was told she was only held for ransom! Her kidnappers even said they didn't want to bother trading her to her family for a small fee—they'd explicitly said they'd get more money selling her!
She looked up from the paper, over at Redmayne.
Redmayne avoided her gaze.
Without thinking, Ariadne uttered, "What did they ever do to you?"
Yelena sobbed even more as she shook her head and tried to lean over Ninel's prone body. A futile attempt to shield her precious daughter.
Ariadne's parents tried to do the same for her. The Gough family made sure they never could again.
"What did they ever do to you?" Ariadne repeated. She could hear the anger in her voice, mixing with her grief, and her mind raced as she wondered if her parents had suffered when Redmayne ordered their deaths.
Redmayne squeezed his eyes shut and refused to lift his head.
The bastard knew what was coming.
Ariadne was screaming as she repeated once more, "What did they ever do to you!?"
"A—Ari…" Liber tried, but Terriod pulled him back as Ariadne stumbled and pulled at her hair.
Scum. They were all scum. Her family never did anything to deserve this. None of her friends did. Why did the elite of Bosco think such behaviour was okay? Why was Bosco the only nation in all of Ishgar to not abolish this barbaric rule?
Why did Ariadne's innocent parents have to suffer?
Through laboured breaths and the pain in her scalp, Ariadne finally heaved out the words she wanted to utter.
"Satan Soul."
A wide magic circle appeared above her. The mansion rumbled and shook violently as the pressure in the room became intense. She could hear the others calling for her, trying to make her stop, but through it all Terriod and Shelley were helping some of the others evacuate the room. Liber called out to her, but Terriod shoved him into the next room as the pressure reached a crescendo in the room.
The walls cracked. The foundations of the house creaked and groaned. The floor began to warp around Ariadne's feet.
Ninel finally understood the danger she was in as Ariadne took the form of a demon. A carapace of gemstones covered almost her entire body, with only Ariadne's shoulders and stomach exposed, and a long horn made of diamond protruded from her forehead. Stalks of gems stuck out from her back like bone, and smaller gems cut into a pendeloque shape hung from the stalks like ornaments—mock wings, unable to move yet somehow allowing her to fly.
The room stopped shaking as Ariadne let out a slow, steeling breath. She leaned her head back, basking in the demonic form she took, and her eyes slid shut as she finished the spell's name.
"Leraje."
When she opened her eyes, she saw intense fear in front of her. Ninel and her parents were so frightened that they couldn't even tremble, bodies frozen stiff like prey trying to play dead in front of an apex predator.
Ariadne glanced over at the others in the next room. Terriod was in the doorway, eyes wide as he stared in awe at Ariadne.
"Grab Ninel," Ariadne ordered him.
Terriod hurried into the room and yanked at Ninel's arm. She started screaming again, but it wasn't in anger—it was fear, the possibilities of what the group would do to her frightening her. Terriod managed to drag her to the doorway, but he stopped when Ariadne held up a hand.
"I want her to see this," she announced. "I want Ninel to know exactly why I'm doing this."
Redmayne and Yelena huddled close together, embracing each other one last time as best as they could in their condition. The touching display made Ariadne sick to her stomach.
She raised her hand, a magic circle appearing behind her, and light shone in the middle of the room as gemstones began to appear, taking the shape of arrows pointed directly at Redmayne and Yelena.
"Leraje Assault."
In a flurry, blitzing the couple without even a chance to scream on their part, countless gemstone arrows launched at them and pierced their bodies. Husband and wife were thrown to the far wall, pinned in place as they were torn apart by the onslaught of arrows slamming into them.
Ninel was screaming over the sound of it all, struggling against Terriod desperately. She sounded so agonised, so heartbroken, and Ariadne took satisfaction in teaching Ninel the consequences of her family's sins.
When the barrage of arrows stopped altogether, it was difficult to tell the remains pinned to the wall had been Redmayne and Yelena Gough. Pink mist rained down from the ceiling, and Ariadne heard one of the others in the next room dry heave before running away. A grisly sight, she wouldn't deny, but it had to be done. Sometimes the only language people understood was ultraviolence, and she was more than happy to stoop to their level.
And honestly? The void in her gut felt like it shrank just the tiniest of fractions.
She looked over at the doorway, and everyone was tense as she smiled sweetly at them.
"Get the Magic Sealing Cuffs," she ordered her gang.
Shelley was the one who ran off to grab the cuff. Everyone else was tense as Ariadne flicked her hair over her shoulder and rolled her shoulders, loosening the tension in them. After this, she was going to take a nice big nap in the master bedroom of the mansion, and then she was going to raid the food supply to see what kind of feast they could make. There were bound to be some whole turkeys in the fridge to throw in the oven. Maybe even some high quality beef roasts.
As soon as Shelly came back and clamped the cuffs around Ninel's wrists, Ariadne smiled sweetly at Ninel and raised her hand again. The magic circle behind her was smaller, but everyone jumped back, away from Ninel, as Ninel screamed through her gag.
"Leraje Guillotine," Ariadne announced.
In an instant, a flat blade of diamond was embedded into the floor, slicing through Ninel's legs and severing them below the knee. Blood sprayed onto the diamond blade as Ninel screamed, and for a brief moment, everyone was in shock. They stared with bated breaths as Ninel began to bleed all over the floor, screaming in agony, and Ariadne waved a hand dismissively at her.
"Make sure she gets the bare minimum to stay alive," she ordered the group. "Water and bread only for her meals. She comes with us and she won't ever make contact with anyone who can rescue her. Understood?"
They all seemed to catch on to what she was getting at. Ariadne wanted Ninel to feel just as hopeless as they did when they'd all been sold into slavery and abused by their owners. She wanted Ninel to feel just as alone as they did, every time a chance to escape was snatched away at the last possible second.
She wanted Ninel to starve like they had.
Liber hurried down to Ninel's side with a gasp. He started shouting orders at the others—"Belts! Belts, now! We need to tourniquet her legs! Someone get Remy so we can cauterise the wounds!"—while Ninel slowly faded into unconsciousness. Ariadne let out a long, slow, satisfied hum and sigh, and she turned back into her human form as she listened to the scrambling of people trying to keep Ninel alive.
This was what Ninel and her family deserved, she thought with satisfaction.
Two years ago
Rengezawa, Ka Empire
Stupid flower country with its stupid expanse of forests. The flowers here weren't even that great. Bellum was so much nicer to visit, and that wasn't just his patriotic pride talking.
Wilhelm stomped quietly through the path of planks lining the swamp's depths. He always hated water—even when he'd lived near the large lake that bordered Bellum, Iceberg, Joya and Desierto, he never learned how to properly swim. It was too much of a chore, especially when he proved to struggle to do more than tread the water like some helpless damsel in distress, and he always hated how his older brothers told him he just had to keep practising. He'd practiced plenty, Wilhelm thought bitterly, and he was never as good at swimming as them, so there was no point in continuing to learn. He never planned to go swimming anywhere, anyway. Swimming was for chumps who couldn't move fast enough on land to begin with, the wannabe fish that they were.
It was so stupid, the lengths he had to go to just to get his hands on powerful magic. No one ever wanted to make it easy for him—they always wanted to preach that hard work bullshit they always took pride in, and it never stopped pissing Wilhelm off. They all made it sound like they put in that same fake hard work shit, but in reality, they were just naturally good at it all. Gifted fuckers. And this brat of a princess he'd heard so much about was no different to them.
He didn't give a damn that the Crown Prince of the Ka Empire could use Requip Magic. That was basically the rite of passage for the heir of Ka, as far as he heard, so it was obvious he'd had to compete with his siblings to learn it to begin with. Wilhelm's beef wasn't with the Crown Prince. But his sister? Oh, Wilhelm had opinions.
A quiet young lady who only ever attended parties and did princess-y things in her spare time, never showing what her magic was to anyone out of arrogance? Now she was the unfair one. Wilhelm's teeth grinded together with anger as he simmered over the rumours he'd heard. He'd heard she was a master of all kinds of powerful magic, and everyone feared her in case she decided to unleash it in their direction. She was only seventeen, he thought with a growl, and she was already stronger than the Emperor of Ka himself. Where was the fairness in that? She was already born a princess, the highest position a girl her age could hold in any country, and yet she was also blessed with immense power?
It wasn't fair. It was never fair. Wilhelm had to rectify it. It was always up to Wilhelm to right these horrible, horrible wrongs.
They'd see. They'd all see. And everyone would understand that this world was just unfair with so many people lying about their inherent skill in magic. Until Wilhelm could out them all as liars who made it look like everyone else was just incompetent and talentless, he had to take matters into his own hands.
Alchemy was superior to magic, anyway.
He could hear voices through the thicket ahead of him, and Wilhelm reached into his pocket for one of the Lacrima orbs he'd been given. This… benefactor he'd been in contact with, some lady named Tristitia, she'd been generous in giving him all the tools he'd need to get close to the princess. A Lacrima for teleportation set to her guild's hall, a Lacrima that masked his presence entirely, even pointed him to some lower tier mages to test his gauntlet on. Wilhelm rubbed the Lacrima between his fingers, and without another thought, he loaded it into the small compartment at the wrist of his gauntlet where an orb could be fitted.
He could feel a shroud cast over him from the orb's power. Wilhelm let out a low breath and worked his jaw.
It was weird, he thought, that this Tristitia character knew all about the gauntlet he'd been making. Even knew his prototype name for it had been the Equaliser. She'd been so interested in his ability to harvest ethernano from living creatures, alongside the signature magic they were capable of, and she wanted to see how capable he was with a target like the princess of Ka. He hadn't even considered the little brat until she'd told him that she was rumoured to know the ancient, lost spell known as Law without consequences. Wilhelm didn't know a lot about Law, but Tristitia did—and that damned princess was supposed to be afflicted with the Contradictory Curse for using it without properly mastering it. Yet every ounce of life around her persisted, and Wilhelm wanted to tear his hair out when he'd heard it the first time.
With his gauntlet, he could use Law without consequence. It would be temporary, limited uses, but damn it all, he deserved to be able to use it freely, not this bitch.
A gust of wind blew through the thicket of plants, and Wilhelm moved through them at that moment, masking his movements through the wind's rustling. No one batted an eye as he entered the clearing, a long path leading to the outpost in the swamp's rare areas of solid land, and he saw a group of six moving towards the outpost almost casually. There was the Crown Prince he'd heard so much about, he thought, and he looked like he was too young to have the responsibilities shoved onto him. He never understood why so many men in the Eastern Continent kept their hair so long, but the Crown Prince kept his in a long, low ponytail falling down his back, and he wore clothing fitting of his station—embroidered gold along his sleeves and pants legs, as well as in the heavy earring he wore in one ear and in the pin holding his hair in its ponytail.
The guards around him were few in number, but Wilhelm recognised them as part of the unit that patrolled the swamp. He'd been watching them for days, and while the Ka troops were a proud people, they were an easily bored group when there was nothing to hunt for dinner or defend from in the swamp.
And right beside the Crown Prince, smiling without a care in the world as she walked delicately in her sandals and kimono, was that damned princess.
Wilhelm was shaking with rage as he approached, listening idly to the conversation they were having as they approached the outpost at a casual pace.
"I hear Jingyi will be able to come to Ka for your coming-of-age ceremony," the prince noted. "You must be excited."
"It'll be our first debut as a couple," she agreed. "I can't deny my eagerness to meet him for the first time. Letters can only paint so much of a picture."
Wilhelm wanted to roll his eyes. The brat even got her pick of whatever man she wanted, he thought. The entitlement of this princess. She was the worst.
"I do worry that Sister Tsutsuji will act up on the day, however," the prince went on. The princess's smile fell at the mention of her sister, and Wilhelm wanted to chuckle. That's right, he thought, wipe that smug look off your face! "After what she did to Sister Botan, I worry about you…"
"Our siblings won't touch me as long as you're around," the princess reminded him.
"If I may," one of the troops chimed in. The Crown Prince and princess both nodded for him to speak. "Her Highness has many rumours surrounding her magic and its strength. Anyone aiming to harm her would be in for a harsh reality check when facing Her Highness's most pure and noble power."
The princess was smug again as she smiled at her brother. Wilhelm couldn't wait to steal all that ethernano in her undeserving body.
"See? No one would dare touch me right now—"
Wilhelm lunged.
He managed to push between two of the guards, gauntlet outstretched in the princess's direction, and if not for him literally shoving the guards aside, the Crown Prince definitely heard him stomp through the sticks on the ground and snapping them under his boot.
It all seemed to happen at once. His veil of invisibility left him, his gauntlet prioritising ethernano harvest. The princess glanced at him, smile fading from her face as fear quickly overtook her expression. The Crown Prince flashed, his ensemble changing with a shout of, "Crocus Armour!"
The gauntlet slammed into the back of the Crown Prince, who had jumped in front of the princess to shield her, and it immediately began to siphon his ethernano at an accelerated rate. It wasn't instantaneous—the guards still managed to swing their weapons at Wilhelm, and the Lacrima in his bag flashed in reaction, surrounding Wilhelm and the Crown Prince in a bubble. The weapons bounced off of its surface, and Wilhelm watched as the Crown Prince lost colour in his face and his armour faded from his body. The black and purple plating and robes gave way to his usual attire, and he went limp in Wilhelm's grip as the gauntlet hissed and ejected a canister of concentrated ethernano.
Wilhelm caught the canister and released the Crown Prince. He sneered at the princess, who had dropped to the ground in her shock and stared with a horrified expression at the sight before her.
He stood proud and tall, and he addressed her directly as he shouted through the bubble, "Go on, then! Use your special power to avenge him! Show me why everyone thinks you're so powerful!"
The words didn't seem to register at first. She was puzzled as she stared back at him, brows creasing and horror amplifying, but then it all made sense. She looked at Wilhelm with fear, and when she looked at her brother, prone on the ground and unconscious, she seemed… ashamed.
Wilhelm blinked at her. His anger flared as he also realised this little brat was a damn liar.
He held up the canister of ethernano, and he felt like he'd been conned.
"I'm taking this," he hissed, "as compensation for your lies."
The bubble disappeared. The guards lunged at him again. Wilhelm grabbed for the teleportation Lacrima and poured his ethernano into it.
In the blink of an eye, he was out of the well-lit, colourful swamplands of Ka, and instead found himself in the dim, dark room his benefactor had first taken him to.
He let out a low sigh and felt his body sag with relief. He almost died back there. What would've happened if that damned Crown Prince had used his magic on him? What if those guards had hit Wilhelm with their weapons? He'd be dead, that was what.
From somewhere in the darkness, he heard movement. Wilhelm clenched his gauntleted fist and glared into the shadows with a sneer.
"I know you're there, you little snake," he growled. "You lied to me about the princess's magic. She doesn't know Law at all. She's just a regular person."
Footsteps echoed through the room. Small pitter-patters, like a child's footsteps, and then a clap. The lights above Wilhelm flickered to life, revealing the room he'd landed in to be a simple child's bedroom, and he could see someone roll over on a pile of cushions on the far side of the room with a groan as the light filled the room.
A child stood before him, dressed in a simple skirt and sweater, and her black and white hair was tied back in a low ponytail. She wasn't giving the impression that she was a normal child, not with that bored look on her face, and she regarded Wilhelm with an almost disappointed look in her eye.
He got a better view of the cushion pile behind her, and he saw a girl dressed in her nightclothes and blindfolded with a lace ribbon sprawled out on the cushion—probably not much younger than the princess he'd just tried to attack.
"What the hell is this?" Wilhelm demanded. "Where's Tristitia? She lied to me."
The younger girl raised her hand, and he scoffed. This girl? Who was no older than thirteen? This one? He'd sooner believe the one sleeping in his presence was the real mastermind.
"I am she," the girl said in her childish voice. "And I did not lie. The fifth princess of Ka had rumours circulating about her hidden potential, but if you came to report underwhelming results, it would seem they were mere strategic rumours to solidify her place in the palace."
What in the… Wilhelm scrunched up his face and shook his head. "Where's Tristitia?" he demanded again.
"I just said I'm Tristitia," the child repeated. "I know appearances can be deceiving, but surely my way of speaking and the letters I sent to you line up smoothly."
Seriously? He did admit that the person who sent the letters to him sounded old and stuffy, like some grandma, but this kid was barely out of diapers! He refused to believe it.
The girl tilted her head, expression still one of boredom, and she hummed.
"You don't believe me," she mused. Wilhelm didn't even hide his disdain for her speaking the obvious. "I understand. I suppose I should be a little more forthright. From what I know of your failed attempts to join guilds and learn powerful magic, you're a rather impatient man who has his beliefs on how magic should be used. Tell me, Mr. Beauregard, did any of your masters ever tell you the tale of Ortlinde Havana and how she was afflicted with the Contradictory Curse after rushing into her first ever use of powerful magic? The name is synonymous with the boogeyman to some mages."
He knew the name. His masters all told him not to rush like Ortlinde had, and he'd considered it hogwash designed to make him feel worse for not being as talented as his peers. Always an excuse. Always a way to kick him while he was down.
The child curtsied at him, bowing her head as she did so, and she added, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Beauregard. I'd prefer if you didn't call me Ortlinde openly, however, as the name Tristitia makes it much easier to move around unnoticed."
Was this another lie? He couldn't tell. He was sick of all the lying and excuses. Wilhelm worked his jaw as he stared at the girl, at how she didn't move from her curtsey, and his eye twitched.
Lies or not, she deserved to be drained of ethernano for jerking him around like this.
He lunged, gauntlet aimed for her face, and the girl didn't even flinch. All he saw behind her was a magic circle flash from the sleeping teen on the cushions, and a single word echoed through the room.
"Sink."
Wilhelm's feet sank into the floor immediately. He stumbled, falling flat on his face and missing the supposed-Ortlinde entirely in his flailing, and the ground continued to swallow him up like a hungry beast eager to eat him whole.
As the wet cement of the floor reached his chest, Wilhelm now at knee-height next to the forever-child, Ortlinde opened her eyes and stood up straight.
"Thank you, Acedia. Try to stay awake for a few more minutes."
The girl on the pile of cushions groaned and turned over again, burying her face in a cushion shaped like a cloud.
Ortlinde sighed and looked down at Wilhelm. She had that disappointment again, and she tilted her head at him innocently.
"I had such high hopes for you, Mr. Beauregard," she told him. "You're an ambitious man. I know better than anyone that patience is a learned skill, not one inherent to humans by nature. If you're not taught how to be patient before anything else, how can you be expected to know how to be patient when you learn a new skill?"
"You need me!" Wilhelm shouted. "You said so yourself, my Equaliser was a key component to your plan! You can't use it without me!"
"Oh, but I could," Ortlinde drawled. "After seventy years of waiting for the Contradictory Curse to leave my body, I can handle a few more to figure out how to use and upgrade your little toy."
His toy!? Wilhelm snarled at her, all attempts at negotiating lost as he swiped at her with his gauntlet. He was still too low on the ground, too far to even graze her with its taloned fingers.
"I'll get you!" he shouted. "I'll make it so the gauntlet can fire, and I'll get past your little pet! So help me God, I'll have the power I deserve! None of you deserve it more than I do!"
She leaned back, humming once, and she glanced back at the sleeping girl with an unreadable expression. When she looked back down at Wilhelm, there was a ghost of a smile on her face.
"How far are you willing to go to get the power you're owed?" she asked.
"Anything!" he screamed. "Anything but wait and train! I know those bastards who show off their skills are prodigies, not like me! I'm normal, but someone normal deserves power too!"
Ortlinde huffed a laugh. "Well, some patience will be required for this," she teased him. Wilhelm went to snap at her, but she held up a hand to stop him. He could feel the cement suck him deeper into its depths as he went to ignore her, but his mouth snapped shut instantly when he felt it reach his armpits. "I won't force you to train for your power, though. The patience will be more in terms of the grand scheme of plans. Your device is very valuable, Mr. Beauregard. I've spent the last seventy years stuck on how to proceed with my next step, and you—brilliant mind that you are, with your Equaliser—fell right into my lap after those thugs from Fire & Flame chased you out of Guiltina and back to Ishgar. You're the key to making my plans progress to the end point I envision. So I'd like if we could meet in a middle ground of sorts."
Wilhelm struggled against the cement clinging to him. Was this really his only option? Join hands with this brat, or die? He ground his teeth together as he squeezed his eyes shut, and his mind raced as he tried to think of something he could do. But the promise of all the power he was owed… Ortlinde didn't say it mockingly. She said it like she truly believed he was owed power as much as he believed it. Like she wanted him to get everything he ever desired.
Ugh… Damn it all, if this was his best choice, who was he to pick a fight over it? He always gave himself a month to see if something stuck or not, and with all the resources she promised he could have in her letters, he doubted he'd be low on supplies for long under her guidance.
The Equaliser could become even stronger. Perfect. Unbeatable.
He let out a groan and nodded once. He glared up at her, and she just looked serene as she smiled down at him.
"You can keep all the magic you steal, if that's what you desire," she told him. "I'll even point you to targets whose magic might be fun to take for a spin. But in return, I want you to gather as much ethernano as you can get your hands on with your Equaliser. I require a substantial amount, after all, and my own capacity isn't enough to see my plans through to the end."
If all he had to do for all the power he could ask for was collect some stupid ethernano, then Wilhelm couldn't turn down the offer. He nodded again, and the girl waved her hand once. Another magic circle appeared above the sleeping teen, and then Wilhelm was spat out of the concrete like a seed from a watermelon.
"Welcome to Cardinal Descent," the girl—Tristitia—chirped. "I look forward to working with you, my greedy Avaritia."
Nine years ago
Lyrium, Minstrel
"Is the deed done?"
His right hand man nodded once. He watched as he wiped his hands on a cloth, smearing the blood from his knuckles on the fabric, and an almost sick satisfaction welled up in his stomach.
Mithrun Alma was blessed with loyal enforcers like Kian.
It was a standard affair. Someone stole a dress from a shop that they were too few jewels short to afford, and it turned out the store had been compiling evidence that they regularly shoplifted there over the course of twelve months. When they'd brought it to Mithrun, they'd only wanted a slap on the wrist and a fine to pay off over time, but that wasn't enough. This man was clearly a repeat offender, he'd reasoned, and merely expecting him to pay the money back was too merciful. He'd move on to other stores, other clothing designers, and he'd act on his impulse to steal again if he felt he'd gotten away with the first one.
A lesson had to be taught. And he'd given that reasoning when he'd sent Kian, his loyal dog, to rough the man up a little in his cell.
Mithrun pushed his glasses up his nose, fixing a gentle smile on his face, and he nodded once to Kian.
"You did good work today, Kian," he told the younger man. Only twenty-one, the scion of a military family who'd always been in Minstrel for generations before Kian's birth, and he already showed promise with his loyalty and initiative.
"Thank you, sir," Kian said, tone controlled and calm, and Mithrun wanted to laugh. Always so serious, the boy was. Even when he was a child, Mithrun couldn't help noticing how much Kian would rein in his emotions in his responses.
Mithrun waved a hand, beckoning Kian closer. Kian moved without complaint or question, coming to a stop in front of Mithrun, and Mithrun motioned for his hand. When he held it out, palm upwards, Mithrun reached into his own pocket and quickly stuffed the contents into Kian's hand.
A candy wrapper crinkled between them. Mithrun nodded once and jokingly said, "Don't tell your mother I still have a habit of giving away candy. I find something sweet after a hard day's work takes the edge off, and it's not the worst vice to have."
Kian inspected the hard candy before letting out a huff—a half-laugh, if Mithrun ever saw one, and for a brief second he saw affection in Kian's eyes. The kind of reserved familiarity that was unbecoming of an expecting father.
"I suppose I should start preparing to sneak you two candies instead of one in the future," Mithrun mused. Kian unwrapped the candy and stuck it in his mouth, and he seemed to relax a little as he sucked on it. "How far along is your wife now?"
They moved away from the cell, where the criminal laid quietly in his heap of blood and tears on the cold, stone floor. Mithrun didn't miss the way the guards threw looks at Kian—looks of jealousy and disbelief, like they felt it was unfair that Kian was the one who Mithrun openly favoured among his enforcers—and he merely kept up his pleasant facade as he led Kian back towards the main offices of the courthouse.
"Raisa's about… three months along now?" Kian told him. "The doctor keeps telling us in terms of weeks and trimesters, but it admittedly goes over my head at times. I feel like I'm reading more books on child rearing and safe births than even my own mother did before I was born."
"Some people take to parenting like a duck to water," Mithrun reassured him. "Most need guidance from family or friends. There's a reason people always say, 'It takes a village'."
"I might need that village," Kian admitted. "I'm thankful for all the help my mother's given us. I can't believe she held on to all my hand-me-downs after all this time…"
"You don't just throw away your child's first clothes!" Mithrun laughed. "My mother, she got all of her clothing from her grandmother when she had me. Of course, it was the style back then for babies to wear dresses and loose, comfortable clothing—easier to change them wherever you went, and you could hardly tell a baby's gender at a glance at that age."
"Raisa wants matching shirts to go with the baby's clothes," Kian sighed. "I keep telling her I can't wear them to work, but she insists I wear them at home."
Mithrun could see his office as they entered the main portion of the courthouse. With his rise in recent years to his position, his office now sat right above the courtroom itself, where Mithrun could oversee cases as they played out. He pulled the key to his office from his jacket and unlocked the door once they approached.
He gestured for Kian to enter, and the man made himself comfortable at Mithrun's desk like usual. A typical song and dance for them after Kian would enact Mithrun's judgements, where Kian would come to Mithrun's office to report any extra findings, and Mithrun would reward him handsomely for being the one who did the dirty work. Kian never questioned his judgements, always idolising the man for his hard work, and truth be told, Mithrun was a fair and just man when Kian was younger. But even now, when he fabricated evidence or overshot the ruling for his own satisfaction, Kian remained silent and dutiful whenever Mithrun pointed him in any direction.
Mithrun couldn't help worrying, though. Ever since Kian met that Raisa girl, he'd seemed to soften up a bit. The cold, militant attitude Kian exhibited gave way to softness, affection, differing perspectives—it was no longer just his hero worship of Mithrun that motivated him, but the forces in his personal life and what he wanted for them.
Kian's pretty wife never liked Mithrun all that much, and Mithrun knew all too well her opinions on him as the other prosecutors whispered their opinions behind closed doors, expecting none of it to come back to Mithrun. Ever since Raisa had made her intentions to become a prosecutor known, Mithrun had seen Kian being pulled in two different directions.
His dog was still loyal and had yet to bite the hand that fed him, but for how long would that last?
Mithrun set their coffees down on his desk and sank into his seat. He and Kian took a sip simultaneously, and Mithrun took his glasses off after setting his mug back down.
"I hate the state this country is in," Mithrun groaned.
"It feels like crime is only rising in recent times," Kian agreed. "All those skirmishes with neighbouring countries have taken their toll on Minstrel's economy."
"If only so much of our money didn't go to guilds," Mithrun said. "Half of them don't even care about doing good for Minstrel, but we must fund them so that we can keep on top of rogue mages running about."
Kian hummed once, displeased. He looked at Mithrun, seeming to hesitate, and Mithrun just laughed gently and nodded for him to speak.
"I wonder, sir…" Kian started, but Mithrun cut him off.
"Please, Kian, you may work under me but you're a family friend first and foremost. You can call me Mithrun in private."
Kian let out a hollow laugh, expression darkening as he stared at his coffee. "No, sir… My father—he'd roll in his grave if I ever disrespected my superior like that. Family friend or not."
Right, Rowan was the type to be a stickler for rules and proper etiquette. In all Mithrun's years of knowing him, Rowan never once called him by name; it was always "Judge Alma" or "Mr. Alma". He supposed he should be thankful that Kian only called him "sir", though it did feel a bit stuffy at times.
"I understand," Mithrun said lightly. "Forgive me. Do continue."
Kian nodded once and swirled the coffee in his mug.
"I wonder if there's anything we can do to help discourage people from committing petty crimes. I can understand there are crimes of necessity, but many blame their financial situation on their crimes and seem to think they're entitled to the things they steal from others." Kian looked up from his mug, directly at Mithrun. "What if we were to reallocate funds for the guilds to double as shelters for the homeless? Or meal kitchens for the starving? They have the space, and the guild members' dorms are nowhere near the guilds. It's a whole lot of land being used to just… party, it seems."
Mithrun rubbed at his chin and hummed. Now there was an idea. But he leaned forward and frowned, another thought coming to mind.
"It's an inspired idea," he told Kian. "But I'm afraid the guilds would use that to try and get tax exemptions. Charities and non-profits designed to help those who are destitute are exempt from taxes because it's money donated and put towards the act of helping others. They don't profit directly from it, and unfortunately, it would make a grey area for the guilds. Their income is from both the government and jobs they take on as individual members of the guild, so reallocating funds to make it so the guilds can double as halfway houses, opens up the possibility of the guilds dodging taxes and claiming their jobs are individual commissions. It's harder to prove that the mages who take on their jobs weren't approached directly for help and offered a reward regardless of the guild they're part of."
Kian seemed crestfallen at the rebuttal, and Mithrun couldn't help the little giggle he let out. Even if he was twenty-one, the boy was still learning how business and the law worked from the perspective of a lawmaker.
Mithrun waved a hand and let out a hum. "I think if we allocate one guild in particular as a charity organisation," he went on, and Kian's gaze brightened with hope, "we can make it possible. Many people don't know all of the non-profits that are active in Minstrel, but they know of the guilds. If we merge one guild—one shining example of a paragon of charitability—with a non-profit, we might see less thefts in Minstrel. A guild like Firebird Feather or Queen Sceptre, one where none of the members have had a history with the law, but also has enough space to house a good number of our homeless and impoverished. The volunteers for the charities can earn honest wages working in the kitchen of the guild, and we can trust the guild won't try to dodge taxes under a technicality."
Kian nodded eagerly along with him.
"Raisa suggested the same guilds," he said.
Raisa. Raisa, Raisa, Raisa. Always came back to Raisa with him.
Mithrun tilted his head and smiled.
"She has the makings of an excellent prosecutor," he complimented Kian. "Most people would give up after hearing that most guilds wouldn't be honest about it, but she's done her research into the most charitable guilds—not the most well-known ones. I know Firebird Feather hardly even has a hundred members, and yet she suggested them? Brilliant mind, she has."
Kian agreed with him wholeheartedly. He explained to Mithrun Raisa's plan—to have one of the local soup kitchens and secondhand stores merge with a guild to serve as a non-mage branch, still falling under the jurisdiction of the guild but not having active mages in service, and they'd serve as a place for not only the mages of the guilds to have home-cooked meals and fresh clothing or supplies if they ever ran out, but for the homeless and struggling families surrounding them to have a place to stay and keep warm at night. It wasn't a terrible idea. Guilds ran kitchens with set lunches each day all the time, and some even doubled as bars and taverns.
Mithrun was just disappointed Raisa had come up with it as well. If it had been anyone else, it wouldn't have felt as much like a blow to his ego. Ever since Raisa got her claws into Kian, he could feel Kian softening up and thinking more about how to help people, not how to punish them so the others knew not to step out of line. Ever since that boy earlier this year… That damned boy…
To keep up appearances, Mithrun donned a mournful expression and sighed heavily.
"If only we'd thought of this sooner," he lamented. "I regret what I had to do to that poor boy, but we can't be lenient just because they're children. Someone taught them those bad habits, and they had to learn that using children to commit crimes wouldn't let them get off with a lighter sentence."
He saw Kian pause. He seemed to think on it, and he hesitated again to speak. Mithrun glanced at him, a puzzled expression on his face, and Kian pursed his lips.
"You… regret it, sir?" he asked, hesitant.
"Of course I do," Mithrun said firmly. "The poor boy was only eleven. But those selfish parents of his—oh, how I'd love to wallop them for making him steal that food. He's lucky he got me as the judge and not someone else! Breaking his legs was a mercy compared to the worse treatment the other judges would've given him, like cutting off toes or fingers for every piece of food he stole. You remember that case with the elderly woman who stole jewellery from a merchant, don't you? Six fingers later, and now she can't even write a letter to her family in Joya. What in the world was Judge Denver thinking, doing that to a woman so old?"
Never mind that it had been Mithrun who'd suggested it under the table to Judge Denver a few years back. Mithrun wasn't even meant to be involved in the case, but Judge Denver was stupid and arrogant, and Mithrun had found it easy to convince him that anything less than collecting fingers as penance would make Judge Denver look soft and a mockery among his peers.
Mithrun feigned a pained expression as he sighed and rubbed at his brow.
"If his parents had just looked into the local charities, they wouldn't have needed to steal from anyone," he grumbled. "If they truly cared for their children's well being, they'd have handed them over to the government to be rehomed with a family who had capacity to care for them. Willingly handing them over would've allowed them to continue to have a relationship with the children, if that was what they were worried about."
"Hand them over…?" Kian's voice sounded uncharacteristically small.
Mithrun shook his head and put his glasses back on, dismissing him with a wave. "It's nothing. I just…"
Was the prospect of fatherhood the element that softened Kian up? Was that what Mithrun had to appeal to now, not the praising of his annoying wife? He chewed his lip and turned in his chair, his back to Kian now as he spoke.
"Forgive me," Mithrun said, pretending to collect himself. "I just see the selfish desires of parents who refuse to think of what's best for their children, forcing them to live in squalor with them, and I get so frustrated. You aren't a failure of a parent if you have to give your child to someone else to raise. Not everyone has the means to raise a child, after all. Back in my day, young teenage girls often had their babies raised alongside them as teenagers because their parents recognised their daughters were ill-equipped to handle the burden."
"I see," Kian said, and his voice was still small. "So there are… wrong choices to be made as a parent."
"Of course there are. That's part of the anxiety of being a parent." Mithrun turned his seat back slightly, and he could see Kian staring down at his coffee with a solemn look on his face. He'd never seen the young man look so… out of sorts. Maybe it really was the baby that was making him waver.
Mithrun turned fully to face him again, and he wouldn't deny he was genuinely worried as he asked, "Kian? What's the matter?"
Kian shook his head. He sniffed once, and Mithrun heard a loud crack come from inside Kian's mouth—he'd crunched down on the candy he was still sucking on.
"I don't know how I'll raise my child," Kian admitted. "But I don't… I don't want to raise them like my father raised me. Not with how we ended things before he died."
Ah. Mithrun would admit, Rowan Arden was a harsh man. But he was only raising Kian the same way his father had raised him, expecting Kian to raise his child the same. Mithrun had even appreciated how vehemently Rowan had objected to Kian and Raisa's marriage, and if not for Raisa encouraging Kian's independence from his father, Mithrun could've still had full control over Kian's activities once she was kicked to the curb.
"My father didn't make the… wrong decisions," Kian went on. "I mean, I don't agree with everything he did. I wish so desperately that he'd just… accepted Raisa. And I…" Kian looked up at Mithrun, and he seemed lost. "I don't know if I want my child to turn out like me."
Mithrun tutted at him and let out a small laugh.
"That's what you're worried about?" he chuckled. Kian looked almost annoyed as Mithrun tried to suppress his laughter. "Sorry, sorry. I understand your concern, please don't take it the wrong way. It's just that you're the most upstanding young man I've ever had the pleasure of working with. I've known you for a long time, Kian. You're a compassionate, understanding and creative individual. Fatherhood may make you feel lost and like nothing you do is the right solution, but you just have to keep in mind that a child is not a pet. You know better than anyone that a child's desires may not align with their parents' hopes for their future."
"I know, sir. I just—"
"Kian." Mithrun leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his desk as he smiled gently at Kian. "You're not your father. And, frankly speaking, you still have your mother and her experience raising you. You and Raisa are not alone in this, I promise you."
His words seemed to assuage Kian. He watched as the younger man nodded, slowly at first, but then more firmly, and he waited as Kian swallowed what remained of his candy and sipped at his coffee.
When he set down his mug, he asked Mithrun, "Did you ever have children, sir? I can't recall much about your own family."
Mithrun chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, heavens, no," he laughed. "My only love is Lady Justice, and she has just as much a vested interest in the law as I do. I did ponder adoption, once upon a time, but perhaps that can wait for when I retire. Maybe I can be resigned to the role of the strange and scary uncle for the little one?"
"Scary," Kian repeated, more in disbelief than amusement. "You're only scary in a courtroom. Though I'm sure Raisa disagrees with me there…"
So Raisa was still part of the problem. Being a married man and expectant father was detrimental to Mithrun's hold on Kian.
It was time to play the slow game while Raisa's pregnancy progressed. Perhaps he could send a gift basket to their home with things that would make her pregnancy less painful, just to lower her guard. All those hormones would surely sway her to think she'd misjudged Mithrun, after all.
"I'm sure she's just protecting her peace," Mithrun said dismissively. "Don't be afraid to back up your wife in matters regarding me. I'm not infallible, and it's always good to get perspective from young up-and-coming prosecutors. Fresh eyes combing over the law are what helps keep us from operating under archaic, barbaric traditions. It's why we abolished slavery in Minstrel, no?"
His words seemed to convince Kian. The man was quiet and contemplative, as he usually tended to be, and Mithrun felt all was right in the world again.
Mithrun shooed him out of the office with a wave of his hands. He was playful as he said, "Now, go home and get some rest, my boy. You can't be keeping the lovely Mrs. Arden waiting all evening for you. Might I recommend taking home something she's been craving? Or maybe her favourite flowers? Small gestures go a long way."
Kian wasn't in his office for long afterwards. As soon as the door was shut, Mithrun lowered his head and let out a soft, quiet breath.
Honestly, this was starting to get annoying. After all the work he'd put into making Kian the perfect loyal dog, paternal instinct and his nagging, attention-seeking wife were what undid him? Mithrun could tell Rowan was rolling in his grave every time Kian dared to be even the slightest bit warm to his wife, indulging in her annoying habits and loud, demanding activities. Raisa Bouverie was a gnat that Mithrun should've gotten rid of sooner, before she'd ruined his friend's son. And now she was putting herself in the public eye, joining hands with the law and opposing Mithrun's rulings.
He opened a drawer at his desk and pulled out a folder. He couldn't let that woman rattle him so much. Even if he firmly believed she was to be seen, not heard, it was of no consequence if she rocked the boat now. At the end of the day, Kian would come back to him. The loyal dog always remembered his owner.
Mithrun could always plant evidence of an affair later down the line, anyway. It would hurt Kian, but what didn't kill him only made him stronger.
He combed through the information on the man who'd stolen the clothing, and he worked his jaw in contemplation. What could he stick on the man in order to make the sentence heavier? What could he use to tempt the man to reoffend so he could be dealt with accordingly? He wasn't as high-profile as the other people Mithrun wanted to see in shambles, but everyone had to start from the bottom with their goals. Divorced… No children… An unproven abuse allegation… Significant debt…
Aha.
It looked like someone disobeyed the laws about paying ladies of the night for their services.
Mithrun smirked as he began to run through the list of brothels and pimps well-known throughout Minstrel through his head. Someone pretty enough, but clearly willing to lie on the stand and be blacklisted from her company—that would make for the perfect witness to add a violation of soliciting laws to this man's charges.
As for the punishment… Yes, he thought, there was nothing more fitting for such a crime than castration. And he'd enjoy making sure the procedure was done properly.
Mithrun's mood was considerably improved as he began to forge paperwork and receipts from the comfort of his office.
