Twelve Years Prior, Elysium
“Mrs. Palmer?”
Isobel Palmer averts her eyes from the sleeping child occupying the seat opposite of her for long enough to give her assistant a glance.
“Yes?”
The man clears his throat, his gaze sliding from Isobel to the child and back. “Well… How did this happen, exactly? I thought prisoners were…”
Isobel sighs, her fingers tapping against her tablet absently. “Every rule has an exception. A near one hundred percent chance will still fail every once in a while... Her mother becoming pregnant, however, wasn’t the problem.”
“Why didn’t they forward… Er, found her extended family? Surely, she’d have grown in a better environment?”
“Kaylen Gould… and Carl Spencer,” Isobel cites from memory, “Her mother was abandoned as a baby… Jumped from one foster care center to another for a while, before running away and finally ending up here. Obviously, she has no extensive family with relevant claims for the child. As for Spencer…”
The man’s desperate gaze flashes through her memory, though Isobel feels little sympathy for the murderer.
“His parents died in a car crash a couple of days prior to his high school graduation. Immigrants.”
“I see. No extended family to speak of, then. And how did he end up here?”
“Drunk driving. Run over a family of three, all killed on the spot.”
“That’s…”
“Ironic?”
“I was going to say horrible.”
Isobel snorts as she catches her assistant’s frown with the corner of her eyes. “You pity him?”
“He must have lost himself after his parents died. Who wouldn’t?”
…She’s doing just fine.
In the end, under the man’s judging gaze, Isobel ends up sighing. “Stop looking at me like that. You know this is our job, and pitying them changes nothing.”
“Still, it doesn’t mean we must abandon our humanity in the process.”
Isobel frowns, her fingers freezing over her overused tablet as she throws the man an annoyed glance. “I abandoned nothing. Our opinions diverge, but I’m still very much capable of sympathy.”
Infuriatingly, the man raises his eyebrow as he returns her gaze with one of visible doubt.
Containing a childish urge to flip him the finger, Isobel merely huffs as she turns and stares toward an elevated view of Elysium grasslands rapidly passing by, their hovering vehicle’s shadow a distant point in her vision.
“C’mon, I was joking.”
“Mrs. Palmer?”
“…I’m sorry?”
Isobel sets her lips in a thin line, though she does end up turning to him again if only so he’d become silent.
“As I see it, we could all find consolation at the bottom of a bottle of alcohol. Still, it is a choice to give in to the temptation, and I save my sympathy, limited as it may be, for those who had no choice.”
The man’s gaze flickers in the child’s direction, before returning to her as he smiles. “I see. And I understand your point of view-”
“But you still disagree?”
“…I suppose I don’t believe sympathy needs any restrictions, per se, merely an understanding of its applications and limits. Perhaps you’ll think me a fool for believing someone in Carl’s position needed help, rather than punishment, and that the escalation of the issue lies within a lack of action.”
Isobel frowns. “You mean to say somebody should’ve helped him after his parent’s death?”
“Precisely. Abandoned, the individual grows resentful and alienated. My condemnation, or even yours, Mrs. Palmer, do little in terms of repairing the damage already done.”
Isobel averts her gaze. “…I suppose.”
“Well… What happens to her now?”
“The child?”
“A foster care center, I assume? Couldn’t they have sent her earlier?”
Once more, Isobel finds her gaze drawn by the small girl’s soft breathing, despite her conscious effort in regards to stop herself from looking…
Sara’s long blond hair falls softly against her closed eyes as she stirs, and Isobel clenches her fingers into a fist.
“…Mrs. Palmer?”
“Y-yes?”
Her assistant levels Isobel with a curious glance. “I asked why couldn’t they have sent her to a foster home earlier.”
“An oversight…” Isobel explains, forcing herself to unclench her fist and relax. “Since her mother died during childbirth, her father is the only one who could’ve authorized a pre-surgery transfer of guard, and he refused to. There was no precedent, no just cause for forced removal, and a judge ruled the case closed, most likely due to a misplaced streak of sympathy.”
The man sighs. “What are even the chances?”
“The mother knew the pregnancy was dangerous, and still chose to follow through... One can only hope the girl doesn’t take after her parents in stubbornness. Technically, she’ll become an official Elysium citizen today.”
Isobel is about to suggest a change in topic when the System’s voice, emotionless as always, interrupts her train of thought.
‘User Scott Doyle has requested a connection. Does Mrs. Palmer desire to accept?’
Isobel strengthens herself. ‘Mr. Doyle? Good evening, Sir.’
‘I assume the job went smoothly?’
The man’s hoarse, deep voice sends shivers down her spine, though Isobel refuses to allow herself to express discomfort, merely signaling her assistant for a moment of silence as she stares toward the moonlight-illuminated field below.
‘Of course, Mr. Doyle. The child has been extracted, and we’re heading-’
‘There has been… A change of plans. You are to head to Libosh before sunrise.’
Libosh?
‘S-sir? Why Libosh, exactly?’
‘I don’t pay you to worry about whys, Mrs. Palmer. Someone will be waiting near the landing site. Hand them the girl.’
‘Connection terminated by User Scott Doyle.’
Isobel blinks, her finger still raised toward her assistant as her mind races for possible explanations only to quickly arrive at the most obvious one.
“…Motherfuckers, they’re washing their hands off of it.”
Her assistant blinks. “What happened?”
Isobel clenches her jaw. “Change course to Libosh.”
‘Command accepted. Change of course accepted.’
“Libosh? But that’s-”
“Several hours away from our original destination, I am aware. It also happens to be a border town.”
The machine’s sway is smooth, though still felt by its passengers, including Sara, who exhales softly in her sleep while sliding slightly against her seatbelt.
Damn it all, why did she have to be so cute?
“Mrs. Palmer?”
Her assistant’s gaze showcases concern as he follows the direction of her stare.
Isobel sighs. “…They’re burying the story, Perry. Pretending it never happened.”
“You mean… But what about the girl? Certainly, they don’t plan to-”
“Ship her away? I wouldn’t be surprised. Out of sight, out of mind? Does it sound like something our beloved board of directors would live by?”
Perry frowns. “To bury something like this… They must be out of their minds. So many people involved, including a child…”
“The PR nightmare must have been on their minds for a while. A prisoner becoming pregnant? The father being allowed to keep the child? I bet they never planned on letting the story become public.”
Perry sighs. “What now? You can’t be thinking…”
“It’s just a job. We have no say in the matter.”
Not paid to worry about whys, huh?
Isobel smiles.
“Uhm… But you don’t look particularly complaint…?”
She’s doing just fine. And she has no intention of visiting another excavation site anytime soon, thank you very much.
“Say Perry, how do you think these stories tend to end?”
The man moves his gaze from Isobel to Sara, before returning it to her. “Not in a happy ending?”
“I bet they already have a scapegoat prepared in case things go wrong. Care to take a guess as to who that may be?”
Perry sighs. “I saw the prisoners’ outfits. You’d look terrible in one, Mrs. Palmer.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Should I prepare my resume?”
Isobel crosses her legs as she throws him a glance. “Don’t be dramatic, I doubt this will be enough to bring the company under. And, if we play our cards correctly, they won’t have a case for justified dismissal either… That being said, preparing your resume might not be a terrible idea.”
Perry snorts, his mischievous smile unbecoming of the dangerous situation they find themselves in. “We are going public with it, then. I have the perfect story.”
Then again, his daring is one of the reasons she insisted on hiring the man to begin with.
“Thank you, but there’s no need. There’ll be no story.”
“Oh.” Perry looks almost disappointed. “What’s the plan, then? …You have a plan, right?”
“Of course.”
‘Request urgent connection with Liam Aston.’
‘Command accepted… Request for connection accepted.’
‘Mrs. Palmer, even if you have reconsidered my offer, now might not be an appropriate moment… Unless this connection pertains to a different reason altogether?’
The king’s voice…
Isobel contains a shudder, although for a different reason than previously.
‘Your Highness, I apologize for interrupting your night. The Princess’s birthday must have been tiring.’
‘It was a pleasure,’ Liam Aston says while laughing jovially, ‘Though you’re correct in assuming the day has been rather long. Speak your mind, Mrs. Palmer. I’m afraid I have exhausted my patience for trivialities for the day.’
Isobel smiles. ‘I believe you’ll be interested in the story I’m about to tell…’
***
Twelve Years Prior, Beastkin Nation of Otha, Royal Palace
“Gako.”
“Yes, Young Master?”
“Tell me, what do you see?”
“…A small tree, Young Master.”
Ryozane frowns. “I don’t mean the bonsai, fool.”
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“Is that so, Young Master? I apologize, Young Master.”
Evidently, she is still angry at him.
A quick sweep across his immediate vicinity reveals it mercifully emptied of possible sycophants, allowing Ryozane to release some of his tension.
Normally, as it remains accessible for the rest of his noble peers, the royal garden wouldn’t have been nearly as tranquil. Today presents a rare opportunity, one he shall not waste.
Might as well get it over with.
Ryozane sighs as he throws a frustrated gaze over his shoulder toward his maid, meeting her cold gaze.
“I apologize. There, happy?”
Being almost a head taller than him even were they both to be standing, Gako’s towering figure stares down at a kneeling Ryozane without a hint of forgiveness in her expression… Then again, her expression rarely showcases much other than disapproval.
“Apologize for what exactly, Young Master?”
Ryozane feels some heat spreading throughout his cheeks, although he refuses to avert his gaze.
“You know why.”
“Do I, Young Master? It is said meager tailed foxkin are barely in control of their human faculties. Perhaps my memory has failed me.”
Merciless woman.
“F-fine, you don’t have to go that far. I apologize… for peeking…”
“What was that, Young Master?”
Now, Ryozane is certain his ears have grown a shade darker. “I was curious, okay?! It was for academic purposes! Your body… Your body is just different…”
For a moment, Ryozane is sure to have spotted a glow of amusement in her eyes, though it is gone so fast he is then sure to have imagined it.
“And this academic curiosity of yours could not be satiated by the royal library, Young Master?”
“I am familiar with medicine books, Gako. It’s not the same. I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve asked. In fact…”
Ryozane gives Gako a hopeful look, to which she blinks, and, to his shock, averts her gaze.
“If Young Master is so keen, wait another three years before asking me again. I’ll… I’ll show you whatever you want then.”
Ryozane clicks his tongue. He hates waiting.
However, after a moment, he smiles. Considering she was mad at him, managing a promise out of her was certainly a good outcome.
“Well, I’ll hold you to that… And no pretending your memory has stopped functioning, we both know it works just fine.”
Is that a blush under her fur? No, he must be imagining things again.
Ryozane clears his throat. “Anyway, remember what I asked you? We don’t have the whole day. In fact, as you keep reminding me, we are already late.”
Gako gives the bonsai a sidelong glance, before lowering herself in order to give it a better look.
“You mean the insect, Young Master? A beetle?”
“Yes. What do you see?”
“…An insect?”
Ryozane sighs, though he expected something similar. “Would you describe it to me?”
“…It’s disgusting.”
“Sure. I mean, beyond that.”
Gako’s annoyance is palpable. “You have eyes as well as I do, Young Master. I don’t understand what you ask of me.”
Struggling to put his thoughts into words, Ryozane releases an annoyed huff. “Then how about this? Tell me how do you see it.”
“…How?” Perhaps realizing he’s being serious, Gako produces a thoughtful grunt. “I… I see a small creature, Young Master.”
“Better. Small in what sense?”
“Well… Lesser? I mean, insects don’t give even a single point of experience. In a certain sense, they’re surely less important than most creatures. In fact, I’m not quite sure as to what purpose they’re supposed to serve.”
Ryozane snorts. “Of course you’d see it that way.”
“I’m so-”
“No, don’t apologize. Your perspective isn’t necessarily wrong as much as it is unique.”
Gako straightens herself. Though he is too absorbed in his thinking to bother checking, Ryozane is sure she looks at him as though he has grown another tail, a look he has become familiar with over the years, and not only from his maid.
“And what about animals? They don’t give much experience either. How do you see them?”
“But they give some. Isn’t that a clear difference?”
“So, you see them as different from insects, at least.” With a precise, careful movement, Ryozane grabs the beetle, disregarding the look of disgust Gako throws its now frantic-moving legs. “And what if I were to kill it?”
Gako blinks. “Kill it? The beetle?”
“Yes. Am I allowed to? Would that be a bad thing?”
“That… There’s no purpose in that, Young Master. I don’t see why you’d want to-”
Ryozane gives Gako a sidelong glance. “You’ve said it yourself. They’re disgusting, and they serve little purpose in the grand scheme of life. I want to ride my garden of them.”
“I-in that case, I suppose you’re allowed to, Young Master. No one will bat an eye, no matter how many beetles you kill.”
“I see. Interesting.”
Ryozane places the insect back where he found it, rises, and lightly pats against his knees, hoping to rid his robe of most dirt yet knowing it’ll most likely not matter.
“Say, Gako, have you ever wondered about life?”
“Most certainly, Young Master, though I’m afraid at your age my concerns pertained elsewhere.”
“Come, let us talk while moving. I don’t wish to miss the entire ceremony.”
Gako nods, her steps falling behind his with practiced easy.
“I’d love to hear what sort of conclusions you’ve derived from your thinking, alas, let us save it for some other time.”
Unsurprisingly, and annoyingly, Ryozane finds himself pestered by fawning maids soon they lay eyes upon him, maids he wastes precious seconds shooing away before finally being able to enter the palace.
He clicks his tongue. “Why must I face harassment upon entering my own home? Why can’t they understand I merely wish to be left alone?”
Gako’s silence speaks for itself, her disapproval of his actions obvious upon her frown as they walk through open corridors mercifully emptied of servants, or, Gods forbid, nobility members, and Ryozane allows his eyes to wander over paintings, statues, murals, and decorative vegetation.
“Anyhow; As I was saying, insects. Aren’t they interesting creatures? Have you ever wondered about them before?”
“I can’t say I have, Young Master.”
Ryozane nods. “I figured most people haven’t. They’re clearly alive, in some sense, yet they provide no experience. And your guess is as good as anyone’s as to why, Gako.”
“Perhaps the Gods have simply decided as such? Perhaps they were punished for past sins, deemed unworthy of a soul?”
Ryozane snorts. “The church would certainly have us believe everything is either decided or caused by a God’s whim. Yet such is their might, they stand powerless before disaster whenever we actually need them…”
Faced by his sidelong glance, Gako shrugs.
“Oh, I’m sure the Gods are a fundamental piece of our universe… Yet I’ve come to suspect their role has been rather overstated in our so-called sacred texts. Tell me, Gako, when is the last time you’ve seen the Gods doing something?”
“…Quests?”
“Delegation. The fact they tell us what to do doesn’t exactly speak of their supremacy, now does it? If they could simply snap their fingers and make things happen, why would they bother?”
“You mean to say the church exaggerates their power, Young Master?”
“And perhaps their role. I’ve come to suspect they have as much the power of creation and destruction as a prison overseer.”
Gako simply sighs, and Ryozane smiles.
“Is it my age which leads you to disregard my words as mere gibberish? Or do you simply find them lacking in logic?”
To her credit, Gako has the decency of looking ashamed. “The things you speak of, Young Master… They are…”
“Crazy?”
“Unusual for a child, certainly. I apologize if I am unable to keep up…”
“Well, nobody else bothers to pretend they’re listening anymore, so…”
Gako’s eyes widen briefly, before settling upon an expression of cold rage.
Then, Ryozane blinks, and the expression is gone, replaced by a mask of deceiving politeness.
“Please continue, Young Master. I shan’t allow my inadequacy to impair you any longer, you have my word.”
“You’re far from inadequate, Gako.”
As he spots a gathering of people ahead, Ryozane’s steps slowly come to a halt, their whispers - easily caught by his kitsune senses - allowing him to realize the ceremony has yet to reach its culmination.
“Anyway, insects.”
“Insects?”
“Insects. Have I lost you again?”
Gako frowns as her gaze flickers toward the naked backs of noble maidens and overdressed gentlemen, many of whom throw glances in their direction only to quickly avert them away again as if nothing happened.
“…Young Master seems to believe they’re interesting.”
“Don’t you?”
“They’re certainly… Unique.”
“And what if you and I, Gako, were something else’s insects?”
“…What?”
Ryozane smiles. “From their perspective.”
“You mean the Gods, Young Master?”
“I believe we already established their inadequacy as such.”
“D-did we?”
“Yes. The important question is, in this case: If our so-called Gods possess not the power of creation, then who does?”
Gako frowns. “You’re the only one, Young Master, who has ever had me believe thinking to be a dangerous activity.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment. Well, there’s no need to fret yourself, I was merely proposing a thought experiment. And now, my dear Gako, I believe it has come the time for us to make our appearance.”
The large, open temple surrounded by columns has a ceiling about two dozen times taller than Ryozane, its massive structure easily imprinting awe upon any to witness it. Large staircases leading down from three out of four sides compose a significant portion of the temple’s space, staircases currently filled by thousands of important (or relatively important, in Ryozane’s humble opinion) guests, at the back of whom Ryozane finds himself at, faced by a problem of unforeseen origins.
“Gako.”
“Yes, Young Master?”
“Do you see the problem?”
Her sigh is as profound as it is derisive.
“I’m too short to see,” he clarifies anyway, “Would you…?”
“You’re no longer eight, Young Master, people will-”
“Very observant. I am, in fact, twelve. Your answer?”
“…If only I wasn’t afraid of what sort of solution you might come up with otherwise,” Gako mumbles.
As a level 42 kitsune, her arms are easily strong enough to lift and place him upon her shoulders, where Ryozane smiles, softly patting the woman’s furred head.
“Thank you.”
“…We were nearly too late.”
“We are just in time,” Ryozane corrects.
At the bottom of the stairs, a shallow cover of translucent water fills the temple’s vast space, upon which only a handful of barefoot individuals are usually allowed to step, and today, especially, Ryozane easily identifies the identity of the five beastkins standing in a circle around the kneeling kitsune who seems to occupy the center of their attention.
More important, however, is that there should’ve been six beastkins to perform the ceremony.
“…So, she couldn’t make it, after all.”
“I’m sure your mother-”
“Stop.” Ryozane smiles. “Look, brother is about to speak.”
“…I swear.”
The kneeling kitsune’s voice easily travels the temple’s space with clarity. His moon-colored fur, long hair, and nine lightly swaying tails would make it hard to conceal his identity anywhere within Otha, if not beyond.
“Rise, Ryokoto of the Moon Clan.”
Out of the five, an elderly wolfwoman is the one to step forward, placing her hand upon Ryokoto’s shoulder in a way Ryozane might have even called affectionate, if not for his knowledge regarding his clan’s long-standing rivalry and hatred toward their distant cousins… Rivalry and hatred which are very much reciprocated.
“You are now spear,” speaks a warrior catman standing with his arms crossed.
“You are now shield,” speaks an old wererat man standing with his hands at his back.
“You are now light…” speaks a young bearkin.
“…To guide us through the dark,” completes a bored-looking avianwoman.
“The words have been spoken. You have the clans’ blessing, child,” the elderly wolfwoman says as she pats Ryokoto’s shoulder, steps back, and rejoins the others.
Absently, Ryozane wonders what place his mother would’ve occupied in the ceremony.
“Thank you. Know I carry with me your will, and in my heart, our people’s hope.”
Ryokoto rises, his slim yet well-built figure standing taller than all but the young bearkin. His tails’ swaying is the only denouncer of his restlessness as water drips from his robes, fur, and naked skin.
Without another word, the beastkin bow to one another, each heading in a different direction as they’re received by their clan members.
Watching the commotion disperse, Ryozane hums to himself. “…Say, Gako, do you think he noticed us?”
“There’s little Master Ryokoto doesn’t notice.”
And, sure enough, Ryokoto glances over his shoulder a heartbeat later, his narrowed gaze pointed very clearly in their direction as Ryozane meets his brother’s reproach with a bright smile and a wave.
“C’mon, let’s go meet him.”
Gako sighs. “Shall I lower you now, Young Master?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, and Ryozane pouts as he finds his perspective upon the world lowered considerably.
Puffing his cheeks, he gives Gako a hurt look. “I quite liked it up there.”
Expression carefully neutral, Gako motions toward the set of stairs leading into the temple as it becomes gradually cleared of beastkin.
“After you, Young Master.”
Recognizing a lost battle, Ryozane abandons his pout and smiles. “Very well.”
Despite the many looks leveled in his direction, especially by members of his own clan, Ryozane forces himself to continue smiling as he descends. Always proper and graceful, his brethren would never dare to make a scene in public, despite the obvious disapproval they seem to reserve for his every action.
Unfortunately, they won’t leave before his brother does, as it is custom, which means he’ll have to put with their presence for now, greenish, beige, and orange gazes weighing his steps down or not.
Upon reaching the water’s edge, Ryozane simply drops his body onto the last step, sitting with one knee raised high and one hand propped against his cheek, though he doesn’t dare allow his shoe to touch the water.
Gako’s surprised hiss almost brings a real smile out of him.
The temple’s fourth side - standing directly in front of him as it rests against the mountainside - is a sight to behold, and one Ryozane himself has spent countless hours staring at, if only as a way to allow his thoughts to wander.
Supposed to represent their patron God, and carved out of the mountain itself, the six-headed beast seems to loom over the temple’s large space, its myriad of eyes staring judgmentally upon those to inhabit it. If not for the many small streaks of water descending the statue’s body, Ryozane might have been inclined to believe it might come to life at a moment’s notice.
“Ryozane.”
Having his vision abruptly covered by a different looming figure, Ryozane blinks. Then, staring into his brother’s red gaze, he smiles.
“Hello, esteemed brother of mine. How do you fare upon this beautiful afternoon?”
“You missed most of the ceremony.”
Ryozane shrugs as he showcases his open palms. “Is that so? I must have lost track of time while pondering over our universe’s mysteries…”
Instead of insisting, Ryokoto switches the target of his reproach to Gako, who sighs.
“Short of physically dragging him against his will, Master Ryokoto…”
“I understand. Thank you for looking after him, Gako.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Ryozane rolls his eyes. “When are you leaving?”
“Is that the reason for your recent petulance?” Ryokoto infers, leveling him another look.
“You mean the stupid war? Why would you think the possible death of my people and blood have me upset?” Ryozane retorts without missing a beat, or his smile, “In fact, I’m very much looking forward to becoming the heir… Speaking of which, you don’t mind if I seize the gigantic chamber you call a room once you’re dead, do you? I’d hate to see it succumbing to cobwebs and dust…”
Ryokoto stares into Ryozane’s eyes for a long moment, seemingly unaffected by his younger brother’s proverbial jab, before calmly lowering himself to a kneeling position, leveling their gazes.
“Ryozane, I cannot promise you I’ll return safely…”
“I told you; It doesn’t matter.”
“…Or that everything will be okay in the end.”
“Hey, are you even liste-”
“War is a serious matter, and people die. Warriors, and kings alike.”
Ryozane frowns, while Gako’s snickering is painfully obvious in the silence of their surroundings.
“I wish things were different,” Ryokoto admits, “Or that I had more time to prepare you. Were I not to return… And Mother’s condition being what it is…”
“You don’t need to worry so much,” Ryozane assures despite his clenching fists, his tone serious for once, “I’m conscious of my responsibilities.”
Ryokoto smiles, his usual stern expression changing as the moon shining upon the sky after a stormy night.
“I know you understand they don’t pertain to a particular set of clothes, or proper etiquette, or arriving on time. Will you care for our people in my absence, Ryozane?”
“…With all my heart, body, and soul.”
“Thank you. Now, I’ll be able to fight without worrying… Until my body breaks, or that of our enemies.”
With a nod, Ryokoto rises once more, his steps ever determinate as he climbs past his brother to join his entourage, before throwing one last glance over his shoulder.
“I’ll leave tomorrow. And regarding my room, you may move the day after, if you wish. As you’ve said, it’d be a shame to have it accumulating cobwebs.”
…I wasn’t serious, you idiot.
As he’s followed by their people, Ryokoto doesn’t look back again, though many of the others spare a last glance in Ryozane’s direction, who attempts in vain to contain his tears from overflowing, wiping them over and over again against the sleeves of his robe.
“Gako…”
“Yes, Young Master?”
“H-he…”
“He’ll survive, Young Master. He’s a great warrior and an even greater general. It’d take more than a single army of greenskins to… To…”
Ryozane moves his gaze up, realizing through his blurry vision Gako’s tears, even as she stares solemnly ahead.
“…He’ll survive. We must believe so.”
Taking a deep breath, Ryozane wipes his face one last time as he sniffs. “He better, or I might just have to burst open the gates of the Abyss one day.”
Footsteps upon shallow water, followed by a sigh, attract Ryozane’s attention toward the approach of a ratkin.
The old man, relaying upon his cane to stand, stares at Ryokoto’s back as it fades out of sight.
“Our queen, bedridden. Our children, sent to war. What is this world coming to…?”
“And what do you care? It’s not like you’ll be here for much-”
“Greetings, Elder Vrics. We thank you for the ceremony, and for your concern regarding our kingdom. Is there something we might be able to help with…?”
Ryozane throws Gako a dirty look which she pointedly ignores, while Vrics sighs once more, his gaze at last falling upon the young Moon Clan member.
“It is to my knowledge the boy shall inherit his clan’s responsibilities in his brother’s absence. In this time of chaos, we must stand united… With the Great Prophecy encroaching upon us, I’m afraid of what might come.”
“I don’t ne-”
“We’re very grateful, Elder Vrics. Shall the opportunity arrive, we will not hesitate to ask for help, and we ask that your Earth Clan give us the same consideration.”
The ratkin nods, content looking. “Naturally.”
Ryozane rolls his eyes. Come the time their people need the rats to fight in their stead, the kingdom might as well be lost.
“Well, I’ll be on my way now, these old bones aren’t what they used to... I look forward to our Council’s next meeting,” the old rat says, chuckling as he gives Ryozane a small wink, turns, and walks back toward his own entourage of Earth Clan members.
“…They might be the least powerful of the clans, but it’d be a mistake to underestimate them, Young Master.”
“…Pitied by the rats. What has the world come to?”
Ryozane ignores Gako's exasperated glance as he sighs and stares toward the temple’s ceiling, hoping to find there the answer, any answer, to the questions hunting his existence.
“…The Great Prophecy, huh?”