“Tell me, my beguiling flowers, can anyone define the term ‘power vacuum’ for me?”
A pale man only a shade darker than a ghost twirled a rose in his fingers, his fingertips nimbly dodging the thorns that lined its stem. Adorned in a tweed half jacket, he was overdressed for
anything outside of a gala. His eyes were silver, a hollow gaze haunting them, his thin lips pursed almost as if he didn’t understand his own question. Behind him a long dinner table filled the darkened room, extravagant massive windows lying ahead of him, immense curtains drawn shut over the glass, denying every occupant the warmth of the sun.
“Oh, oh! I know! Pick me, monsignor, pick me!” A woman in her mid-twenties frantically leapt up and down after leaping from her chair, desperately wanting the attention of the man.
Several moments of silence passed, before another speaker responded. “When someone in or of immense power has fallen and no one has replaced them to restore the status quo.” A monotone, almost bored sounding voice responded.
“Exactly, my sweet tulip. Does anyone know why we need this status quo?”
“C’mon, I know the answer monsignor, pick me!” The woman’s tone became a touch more frantic, her motions more animated.
“Without it, there is no natural order. Without strife, mortals will grow happy. Happiness and fulfillment breeds weakness, and our goddess despises weakness.”
“Another flawless answer, my delicate orchid!”
Silence fell upon the room, aside from the whimpering woman who desperately wanted to be noticed.
“That foolish Kronomancer fell victim to his own arrogance, and once more the world has returned to peace. He did not take kindly to potential competitors, so with him gone, we are free to leave the manor once more. Our efforts to awaken the chained maiden can resume, but there is a matter to attend to before that happens. Can anyone guess what that is?”
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The woman was now shaking, desperate for the attention and approval of her master. Attempting politeness, she raised a hand, as another voice spoke out.
“We need to-“
“DAISY! IT’S MY TURN! I’VE BEEN WAITING VERY PATIENTLY!”
Seizing the chair behind her, she frantically threw it against a wall with such force that it snapped in half, one of the legs embedding itself deeply into the structure. Flipping around, she slammed
her fists onto the table and screeched.
“WE NEED TO ELIMINATE THE HEROES AND ADVENTURERS THAT STOPPED ERYX! AND ANY OTHER SOLDIER, ADVENTURER, OR HERO THAT RIVALS THEM IN POWER!”
An amused smile spread across the pale man’s face. He stopped twirling the rose, pressing a thumb against a thorn until it pierced the skin, blood emerging from the wound.
“I’m so proud of you, Violet. You most of all needed to learn to be more assertive!”
“You’re… proud of me…?” Falling to her knees she began loudly wailing.
“Daisy, you have a like mind to your darling sister. Do you agree that powerful individuals who aren’t interested in the maiden’s salvation should perish?”
“I do. Eryx was a fool. He thought of his foes as ants beneath his feet. I, on the other hand, believe these capable warriors to be beyond my own talents so that I never veil myself in arrogance. Our household knows better than to belittle the passions and valor of our rivals. Yet, despite the beauty of their valiant efforts, they must either join us or perish before we can begin to humor our own grandiose
delusions.”
Licking the blood from his thumb, the man looked at the various shadows across the room, both that had spoken as well as others who had remained silent. He grasped their undivided attention
within the palm of his hand, much like the rose.
“The end of our convalescence is nigh. Soon we shall emerge from the darkness of Bastogne Manor.”