A dark-haired girl was lying across a desk with her face flat against the dark oak surface, her arms dangling over the other side. Lucille’s dead-straight hair was sprawled across it, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. Her headache was killing her.
That was because she had decided to forgo more mundane methods of form writing to abuse her spiritual energy telekinesis. Like twelve invisible tentacles, the spiritual energy threads lifted up six pages of paper around her with a pen to match each, currently doing six times the amount of work she could do if she decided to stick to using her physical self to complete it. The downside was of course the agonising sensation of a drum pounding behind her eyes, beating in time to the throb she felt echo around her skull without end. Her pathetically mortal, Rank-0 body did not like the efficiency of supernatural paperwork, she supposed.
She had decreased the size of her perception field to reduce the sensory overload in an attempt to mitigate the worst of the sensation, which helped a small bit. Unfortunately, it meant she wasn’t able to respond in time when Vincent swung open her study door without knocking, to stand frozen stiff with a pile of documents in one arm as he took in the strange situation. She slowly raised her head, ignoring the hair covering her face. “What is it?” she asked wearily.
Her perception field registered a vein twitch on Vincent’s forehead as he shifted his glasses. He put on an amicable business smile.
“This is a surprise,” he stated calmly. Lucy interpreted that as not being calm at all.
“I have a headache, so please make this quick,” she replied, unwilling to draw this out.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve told me you get a headache from using spiritual energy.” He took a step forward. “Considering you still haven’t gone back to the Beast Realm to complete the first stages, this isn’t some new ability you picked up by being Rank-1.”
He strode forward to slam the pile of documents onto her desk, his smile now gone as he glared at her. “Do you mean to say you put me through several days of needless, stressful work when we first met when you were perfectly capable of doing it all on your own?”
They stared at each other for a while, not blinking. Then Lucy ran a hand through her hair to get it out of her face and intertwined her fingers as she straightened up, smiling brightly. “Well, if it isn’t my one and only aide. What extremely important situation has popped up that needs my attention, right now?” She dropped the documents she was levitating onto a nearby table, withdrawing her silvery-white spiritual energy strands back into her soul.
He stared at her, utterly incredulous. “Hah,” was all he said.
Lucille sighed and gave him a dull look. “An over 200 soul in an 18-year-old’s body comes with complications,” she stated dryly. “Pounding headaches are not normal. I have an unstable soul, so I have avoided using spiritual energy so as to not irreparably damage before it could heal. This is the first time I have put in the effort to sustain such use of it for longer than a few minutes. Would you begrudge me for hiding a potential weakness?”
Vincent gazed at her sceptically for a moment, but relented with a sigh, placing a hand on the new pile of documents. “This is an entire list of every single group, whether that be noble families, businesses, or other, that is aligned with the Commission. As you have requested, I also documented the officially recognised leaders of each group.”
She nodded. “Thank you. To prevent outside forces from coming to the debut, I only want to invite the leaders of each group, with each invitation being allowed to bring two others affiliated with the Faction.” She picked up a form from the top of the pile, reading it. “As for how we justify sending Efratel a private invitation… what do you think?” she asked, looking up.
Vincent pondered it. “He’s already a manager of the Commission, so he’s affiliated… oh.” He hit his palm with a fist. “What if we invite all staff, manager ranked and up? Without being able to bring others, of course, as Faction positions aren’t inheritable like noble titles, so they wouldn’t need to introduce their successors.”
She thought for a moment, and then nodded. “That could work. And, if I ask the official staff to stay afterwards, it will help another idea of mine. For Efratel, we could add another letter into his envelope to not draw too much attention. In fact, let’s invite all manager level staff and higher to stay at the Headquarters during the event. All official forces of the Faction have their own estates in Gilded Seat anyway.”
Vincent grabbed a spare piece of paper and pen from Lucy’s desk and jotted it down. He looked up once he was done. “What’s this other idea of yours?”
“I’m aware there has been discontent among the staff at the amount of ‘favouritism’ I have apparently been showing towards commoners,” she stated.
“Ah,” Vincent responded, understanding. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
Lucy tapped on the desk with her fingers. “I don’t particularly care for, or have anything against commoners. Sedric was just a fluke due to his high rarity class, and Annaliese is only going to be staying for a week, so those incidents won’t repeat themselves. However, I will still need to make myself clear to avoid ruining my reputation among the greater Empire nobility.”
“Only staying for a week?” Vincent replied, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you might’ve had the intention of raising the girl to be a subordinate of yours. That golden hair and eyes of hers indicate she has high light-element affinity second only to the Prophetess herself.”
Lucy didn’t point out how wrong he was, and just shook her head. “A terrible decision for many reasons, but you’ll find out who she really is at the end of the week.”
He narrowed his silver eyes at her. “So that girl is someone important. Why not tell me now, your most knowledgeable royal highness?” He gave a mocking bow, and then paused as he had a scary thought. “She’s not the illegitimate daughter of some powerful noble is she?”
“Pfft. No,” Lucy said, smirking. “She’s a countryside orphan whose mother died giving birth to her brother, and whose father was a local hunter. I’m not sure they were even Ascendants.”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “I suppose if it’s only a week I’ll just have to make do with ignorance. So, how will you assuage the nobility’s worries?”
“I’m planning on holding an event after the debut,” she replied, picking up a pen and twirling it in her fingers. “A sort of… selection process, if you will, after the Counts announce the restructuring plans, that will give young members of the Faction a chance to come under my ‘wing’.”
“Building up your individual force, I see. Only the younger members?” Vincent asked, curious.
“Under 30 at the very least. They won’t have begun to undertake official duties for their families if they are nobles, and they will likely be more accepting of the policies I institute,” she said, taking a piece of paper and beginning to draw something on it. “Using my name as the Faction Head, I want to host an event that allows any young member of the Faction to submit a proposal. It could be a new market suggestion, a new business concept, a new method of business management. Possibly even a new invention if they can show it has feasibility and applies to the Commission. They’ll have to come up with three different ones on Headquarters’ grounds to get through the eliminations.”
“And in this way, you would be sorting purely by talent,” he said, thinking. “But, if it’s every member of the Faction, it could still be seen as giving the commoners too much attention.”
“I’m not going to be able to make everyone understand my goals right away,” she replied, drawing three columns on her page. “That takes time, and as a ‘puppet leader’, I shouldn’t show too much care for the consequences of my actions, so I’m not going to try show them I don’t care about commoners. Due to the natural limitations in education and resources, the commoners will naturally filter out as the selection process continues.”
“But wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of building a force that values talent and ability, rather than social status?” he asked, slightly confused.
She held up a finger. “And that is why I will get a member of each of the Counties to be ‘judges’, who will ‘help’ me decide who deserves to be invested in and given a second chance. In this circumstance, I’m more interested in those who didn’t quite pass, because I want to draw them to my side. The winner will have their idea implemented by me, and they will be in charge of the project. Those who submit a proposal should have put the time and effort to make their proposal good and worth it.” She started writing in the columns. “There will be no runner ups, however I will tell them all I intend to support some individuals to possibly implement their ideas at a later date once they have refined them.”
She grinned. “And I’ll get the Counties help in refining these ideas, but require the members to work for me until they are complete, meaning I’ll have an individual workforce who is invested in working well and gaining my attention. Those County members might be drawn over too.”
He frowned slightly. “That’s not going to work forever though. Eventually they won’t want to keep waiting while working for you, and will leave.”
“Therefore, the contracts will last a minimum of five years while their ideas are refined. Which just so happens to line up with the restructuring goals of the Commission during that period, after which I’ll have a steady stream of talent coming in once they aren’t restricted by the original structure of the Commission.” She put down the pen. “They won’t try to escape the contract once they realise they’ve essentially been granted political immunity during that time period, while their clans are hurriedly trying to gain an advantage within the turmoil. Their families will favour them and try to pull them back.”
“Don’t tell me you’re planning on supporting the illegitimate and unfavoured young nobles?” he said, looking suspicious.
She smirked. “Who knows? Although, I won’t be able to do this if I just invite the manager employees and higher,” she said, thinking. “Then, the first round will be split into two private competitions. Those who are higher ranked employees and nobles, those who are affiliated but haven’t officially joined, and commoners. From the second round onwards however…” she grinned again. “They’ll have to be careful their ‘lesser brethren’ don’t overtake them.”
He gazed at her, looking mildly exasperated, but sighed and shook his head ruefully. “The lesser nobility will regret not having learnt to support instead of oppress their relatives after this. They still haven’t managed to understand why the Counties have lasted so long.”
She nodded. This fact was part of the reason why she could even have the Counties’ aid. The infighting within the Empire was so extreme that they understood the need for any sort of talent and would never suppress their own valuable bloodline. And as Counties not from the 24 Major Kingdoms or 108 Minor Kingdoms of the Mystical Realm, but the Aeternus plane itself, they held immense power, and so looked down on those who didn’t ever learn from their mistakes and kept suppressing talent, never becoming capable of rising. The nobles of the Mystical Realm were insightful. One should never think those from the realm of magic were stupid just because of their society’s structure. They could see the potential in Lucy’s plans, and were very happy to step on thousands of lesser nobles to achieve them. They didn’t care about ‘backlash’ from the lower nobility.
She handed the sheet she had been writing on over to Vincent. He read it curiously. “A list of staff names?” he asked, looking up. “And why are the categories ‘R’ and ‘O’?”
She shrugged. “Radical and Olden. I’m thinking Ravimoux might be interested to know.”
He abruptly held the piece of paper away from him like it was poisonous and looked at her with an aghast expression. “These are people from Radical and Olden?! Wait, why do you even know this?!”
She raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I increased the size of my spiritual perception field just so I could eavesdrop on you and the Count back then? That’s a bit narcissistic.”
He gave her a look that told her he was unamused. “So, you managed to get their identities how?”
Lucy rubbed her temples, feeling like she wanted some tea. “I guessed that their spies would move when they found out about such a big event as the four Counts of the Aurelian Commission or their representatives coming together for a meeting. These are the people who I noticed communicate either through magical items or by passing a message to someone outside.” She pointed to the page. “I only put those who I found out for certain which side they were on in the outer columns, while the centre contains those who reported to ‘someone’ in general.”
She leaned back. “If Ravimoux already knew who they were, then that’s good. If they didn’t, then I just helped them out a little. I hope they can investigate the people in the middle column though. Those people had higher status within the Faction and were very careful when they reported, so they might be subordinates of more powerful groups.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
He nodded. “I’ll give this personally to the Count next time he comes to Gilded Seat.”
Ravimoux were less conventional when compared to the other Counties. While Evisenhardt, Chavaret and Alichanteu ruled over land on the Aeternus plane and owned several smaller planes each, Ravimoux did not. Or if they did, they weren’t telling anybody. They basically owned hundreds of casinos, spread throughout the Mystical Realm in various high-ranked Ascendant cities. Such a set up was very practical when you were a publicly known underworld information agency. They were also the central point of contact for the Tower’s network of ‘dark guilds’, which included assassin circles, thieves guilds and rougher mercenary organisations. It just so happened that wherever a Ravimoux casino was found, underneath may or not have an extensive black market within a localised pocket dimension too. They were the ‘uncontested’ rulers of the underworld, although Lucille knew they never dubbed themselves that.
It was the actual ruler of the underworld that did.
Because Ravimoux was also responsible for most of the Commission’s intelligence, Count Regulus Ravimoux was actually the Count who came to the Gilded Dome plane most often, his central area of work being the Black Lily Casino in the city. He was there at least once a month, so it was fairly simple to meet up with him. Lucy might actually take the chance to talk to him personally, after she thought about the idea. Vincent was her aide, so he’d have to come along too though. He’d be annoyed to find out she was going as well even though she had just handed the list to him.
She stretched her arms. “I think that’s all for now. Oh, wait.” She tilted her head at Vincent. “Have you considered any personal subordinates for yourself?”
“Oh. Um…” He blinked, surprised by the question. “No, not really. It didn’t even occur to me, actually.”
“Well, you should,” she said, getting up from the desk. “Take the chance to use some family connections of yours too. Your siblings might be unhappy if you don’t show you have no interest in the Count title, so share your power a bit so they don’t get nervous. You could even organise it when you go deliver the debut invitations to the Counties.”
He stiffened and stared at her, baffled. “Wait, I’m delivering the invitations?!”
“You are my aide,” she said wryly. “And it will only be to the four Counts. I’m a puppet leader, remember?” she continued, pointing at herself, and grinning mischievously. “The type who lounges around at home all day and spends the Faction’s money frivolously, only leaving to go on brief flights of fancy to see whatever I think is interesting in that moment. We have eyes on us. Be thankful I’m not actually a puppet leader, dumping all my work on you.”
He pushed up his glasses, glaring at Lucy with narrowed eyes. “You look like you’re enjoying this.”
“I think you need to get your eyes checked. Maybe you need glasses.”
There was silence in the study as Vincent registered her joke, and then he groaned loudly in exasperation as he pinched his nose between the eyes. Lucy gave him a cat-like grin as she leaned against the desk with her arms crossed.
“Now, was that all?” she asked smugly.
He looked irritated by her expression. “Yes,” he replied stiffly, whirling around, and walking towards the door. He paused, and looked back at her. “What are you going to do now, considering it seems you’ve finished checking the vault records?”
She tilted her head and hummed, thinking. “I might start planning on how to use the vault’s resources, and test out the training facility later in the week.”
He nodded. “So, does that mean I can find you in your living room if I need you?”
Lucy’s smile stiffened. “Uh… no. Ahem.” She coughed awkwardly and turned to look out the study’s window. “Due to a certain pushy…. guest of mine, I will be recovering from my headache elsewhere in the Headquarters’ Pavilion, having tea. I’m sure you could contact me by finding Scytale.”
Scytale was on the top story of the Headquarters that day, exploring all the rooms. Vincent stared at her for a moment, before slowly, very slowly, a knowing grin spread across his face.
“I see…” he responded, his smile growing wider as he noticed her expression twitch. “So, if I happen to see a certain blonde-haired girl, then I suppose you want me to tell her where you are?”
She scowled. “No, that is definitely not-”
He gave a cheery wave and walked through the doorway. “I will make sure to do as you wish my liege!” he yelled, closing the door.
“Wait, don’t-”
Slam.
The door shut before she could get her words out, and Lucy was left standing there, an arm half stretched out to pause him. She groaned and leaned against the desk again, looking up at the ceiling.
“I’m going to need something a bit less mundane than English breakfast to get me through today.”
----------------------------------------
Annaliese scowled as she paced down a long hallway, hands held behind her back. She was currently dressed in a shirt and skirt far nicer than the prettiest thing she had ever worn, but that didn’t make her happy. She was also a bit embarrassed though. The strange girl who had saved her brother and brought her to the Commission’s Headquarters had made her immensely curious, but under the stress and her own emotion imbalance of the day before, she became impulsive and could’ve offended the person now responsible for keeping her brother alive.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t angry that the girl had treated her like a child and kept her waiting to hear her answers about why she seemed to know who she was. It felt strange to be treated that way by someone barely older than herself, but for some reason it didn’t feel like it was done to pick on her.
As for the reason why she knew that… she looked at her hand as small tendrils of golden essence emerged from it and swirled about. She seemed to be able to sense others intentions. She wasn’t quite sure why, because she hadn’t been to an Obelisk that would enable her to use her Status, but the vague meaning behind other people’s words could be sensed by her.
Which made Annaliese slightly apprehensive about seeing the girl again. She still had no clue why the girl had saved them both. It definitely wasn’t out of compassion, from what she remembered sensing yesterday in her haze of anxiety and shock. The girl seemed… apathetic, or too uncaring. She hadn’t comforted her in any way, keeping things going with a methodical pace, and any words she spoke to her almost felt like they carried little meaning, like they were said just for the sake of pleasantries.
She made a face as she revisited what she had just thought. Maybe she was actually tired, because that last statement sounded like something written in an old depressing novel. As she reconsidered, it wasn’t that the girl was emotionless or anything. Saying that her words felt like they carried little meaning was an exaggeration. It felt more like she was… acting in a certain way towards her?
Annaliese paused her walking. That felt right. She did say she had kept moving so she wouldn’t fall into shock. She was definitely trying to make the process easier for her in some way. But that didn’t explain why she felt there was something wrong with how Lucille had told Annaliese her age.
She shook her head and kept moving. She gazed out the long window on her right, which stretched down the corridor. It showed a gorgeous view of the gardens as she pondered over what exactly Lucille was. Regardless of how rude that apparently sounded.
Maybe she was an Astrologist? She used magic to put her to sleep, so it made a bit of sense. But from what she knew, Astrology was more responsible for detecting when new void storms and natural mana phenomenon would occur or when new outer planes would drift close and become part of the Aeternus plane’s domain, not finding people. She didn’t know much about magic, but Astrology was supposed to be really hard to learn, with all its practitioners being old mages or wizards over a hundred, so maybe Lucille wasn’t an Astrologer.
A seer? That also seemed unlikely. Again, she didn’t know much about them, but seers weren’t exactly considered a powerful class, and their abilities lied more in viewing the past and present. Definitely not powerful enough to know who the Prophetess, someone bestowed a class by the System itself, was before anyone else. The same went for oracles. And she couldn’t be a diviner, as that was a Heavenly Realm only thing.
She was stuck. She kicked her feet uselessly against the corridor carpet, sighing. She wanted to know. She hated being in ignorance, especially after everything she experienced with her brother, not knowing what was responsible for the endless misfortune and calamities that surrounded them both. She wanted to know how her abilities worked, how mana worked, how Fate worked, everything and anything to do with herself. She had always loved reading when younger, as knowledge felt like the only power she ever held over her own life. The desire for knowledge had faded as the attitudes of her townspeople grew more hostile towards them both, but it was coming back.
She clenched her fists as she turned a corner into a large central room, resolving herself to never be left in the dark again. She had heard stories about nobility, about Ascendants, and about their lives, and had wanted to be a part of that once upon a time. Now she had forcefully been pushed into it, she needed to survive, and she would do it with the only power she knew was truly hers. Knowledge. And she could begin, if only she knew where to find that blighted girl!
After a quick check to make sure no-one else was around, she growled and kicked a foot against a wall of the large main room she found herself in, silently screaming in frustration as she waved her fists in the air uselessly. She went to do it again, when-
“That wall is probably harder than your own foot.”
She yelped and spun around to see who the origin of the young boy’s voice resounding in her head was. She paused when she didn’t see the expected offender. Wondering if it was her imagination, she begun to inch towards the room’s entranceway, fearing there was a ghost. She let out an even louder yelp when something cold and smooth rubbed against her ankle, and she stumbled, tripping over a long scaly tail. She looked up to see a silver snake with white-gold wings staring at her with unblinking golden eyes, wiggling the tail responsible for her fall in front of her face.
“I was going to tell you I’m down here,” the voice said, sounding amused.
“….a snake…… bird… thing?” Annaliese was originally just going to say snake, but the large fluffy wings didn’t quite manage to escape her attention.
“The ‘thing’s name is Scytale,” the voice snarked. “Also, the correct term is ‘amphiptere’.”
Annaliese blinked, nonplussed, before she realised what she was talking to was a person and not some mundane reptile, and scrambled back, sitting with her back against the wall.
The snake let out a hissing laugh, jaws open wide. “I don’t bite," he said, but the bared fangs didn’t really dissuade Annaliese from that idea. The serpent tilted his head as he gazed at her. “Although I might wonder what a Prophetess tastes like.”
“And the number of people who know my identity seem to have multiplied,” she said in a flat voice. “Would you like my signature?”
The snake made a gagging gesture. “Yuck. No, if it wasn’t for Lucy, I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with the Citadel.”
Annaliese raised an eyebrow. “What does the Commission Head have to do with this? Also, why do you feel strangely familiar?” she asked, tapping her chin.
“I’m Lucy’s bond. I don’t have much choice but to follow most of Lucy’s plans," he replied. “And that sensation would be the light element talking. I suggest you learn to ignore it, otherwise every suspicious old geezer of Paragon will try to abuse it to act like your long-time friend.”
“You don’t like the Citadel?” she questioned, curious. If he was her bond, then he should have similar values to Lucille.
Scytale folded his wings, looking sheepish. “You know what, forget what I just said. Everyone within Citadel are compleeeeetely friendly and non-suspicious, they’re all just one big happy family, and there are definitely no suspicious old men who wants to use you to increase their fate. Absolutely not.”
They stared at each other. Annaliese slowly narrowed her own golden eyes. “You’re not very believable, you know that?”
The snake hung his head dismally. “If I die, tell Lucy I fought a valiant battle to keep my opinions to myself. It was a heroic effort and I struggled to stay silent to the very end, but the enemy was too powerful. Entomb me in a grand sepulchre to honour me.”
“So, what’s wrong with people from the Citadel?” she asked, amused by the snake’s theatrics. He was very different to his bond.
He slowly backed away, looking for a way to escape as he twisted his head from side to side. She glared at him. “Oh no you don’t. If you don’t tell me now, then I might just start forming unfounded opinions, and then who would be in trouble?”
He stared at her, likely to try see if she was being serious, and then wilted like a dying flower. “Please, please, please, please, please don’t say anything to Lucy about this,” he pleaded.
Annaliese crossed her arms, still sitting on the ground. “Only if you don’t leave anything out in your explanation.” It was unlikely that she would have a reason to tell Lucille about this in the first place, but it seems the snake was oblivious to that.
The snake groaned. “Ugh. Fine. Look, all commoners tend to have this collective opinion about nobles, right? About how they’re always condescending and full of uppity nonsense.”
The expression on Annaliese’s face turned awkward. Scytale sighed. “You don’t have to feel so nervous. There’s nobody else here, and neither me nor Lucy care what you think about nobles. Me, because I’m a magical beast and really only care about bloodline suppression, and Lucy, because she’s a former commoner too.”
She blinked. “Wait, Lucille was a commoner? Really?”
“I understand the feeling,” Scytale responded, nodding sagely. “It’s that pretentious accent.”
Annaliese didn’t say anything but her answer was clear on her face. The silvery serpent continued what he was saying. “Anyway, to Lucy and me, the Citadel is like what nobles are to commoners, but ten times worse," he hissed with distaste. “Combined with their ‘holier than thou’ attitude and their white robes, they just reek of snobbish self-confidence, and even their healers act like you don’t deserve to be healed by them.”
He shuffled his wings in an approximation of a shrug. “And with their reputation and penchant for manipulation and politics, it’s like icing on the cake. The whole concept of diverting Fate from the unfortunate to whichever noble pays the most just sits wrong with me.”
She hesitated. “They… divert Fate? Not give it?”
“There’s only one individual in the Tower realms who can give Fate," he said, gazing intently at Annaliese. “And that is you. That’s what makes you so valuable. Of course, you can divert Fate too, but it’s your Origin Skill that can supply it without harming yourself.”
He opened his jaws to yawn, shaking his head to get rid of the tiredness. “You woke me up from my nap.”
“Oh…” she said, feeling a bit guilty. “Sorry.”
“Nah, it was time for me to wake up,” he replied. “Anyway, Fate is a finite resource for the Citadel, reliant on how many people are under their wing, but you can add to their pool of the resource, which makes you so important.”
He paused. “The Great Sage would also want to keep you close to him, as your authority’s control over the essence is higher than his artificial hold.”
She nodded, thinking deeply. She looked at the snake. “Does that mean I can get some benefits by using my status?”
Scytale tilted his head, thinking for a moment, but shook it after a second. “I think you should ask Lucy that one. I might suggest something bad. She’s always been a good schemer, as she managed to become the Faction Head, after all.”
She absorbed that information for a bit. She wasn’t quite sure how to deal with Lucille, and asking extra questions made her feel a little apprehensive, but if her bond was suggesting this, then maybe it meant she would be willing to offer advice. She had a complicated expression as she pondered over how to ask her next question.
The snake noticed her face. “You look like you ate something weird.”
Annaliese hesitated, but eventually decided to just get it out. She shifted until she was sitting cross legged, and then leaned forward with a serious expression on her face. “Can you tell me why she knows who I am?”
Scytale blinked and then perked up, flapping his wings. “Oh, that!” He paused, and then sagged. “….is not something I can say.” He finished sheepishly.
Feeling irritated at how he got her hopes up, she glared at him. “Why not?!” she exclaimed.
“Because Lucy would kill me!” the snake responded with the same gusto. “Not, you know, literally, because I’m her bond and all, but she’s got some pretty bad punishments to dish out that I really don’t want to have to experience right at this moment.”
“Can’t you just get me to promise to keep it secret like before?” she pleaded.
He firmly shook his head. “Nuh uh. That was different. Lucy didn’t want me to tell you about my opinions on the Citadel because it would be bad if the Commission was blamed for the Prophetess having a hostile attitude towards them, but she didn’t truly believe I could keep it hidden for long.” He gazed at her intently. “But for this, I won’t compromise. This secret impacts both of us, and I feel like I have a vague memory of her saying she was going to tell you anyway?” he said, sounding unsure.
She sighed and nodded, slightly relieved it seemed she did have the intention to tell her. “Yes, but she said she wouldn’t meet me for at least 24 hours.” She scowled. “I still have about an hour left.”
“And with Lucy’s condition right now…” He paused, tilting his head as he listened to something unseen. “She’ll probably try to avoid you for even longer.”
She stood up, angry. “Even longer?!” Then she registered what he had said. “Wait, condition? It’s not related to me, is it?” she asked anxiously.
Scytale shook his head. “Nah. She got impatient and overworked herself. It was all her own fault,” he said, with just the slightest hint of schadenfreude.
She sighed and crouched down. “Can you at least tell me why Lucy’s Fate looked so weird?” she asked weakly.
Scytale blinked. “Wait, her Fate?” Then he reared up, flapping his wings. “Oh! I can tell you that checking our Fate was one of the reasons why Lucy wanted to meet you. How weird? Can you describe it for me?”
Annaliese awkwardly tried to describe the endless abyss she saw hovering behind Lucille’s head, and the mind-bending sensation of wrongness it caused her to feel when she looked at it. Because it felt so off to her, she couldn’t understand why the snake began rolling on the floor laughing when he heard her description.
“Oh, that is so perfect for her!” he exclaimed, still giving a hissing laugh. “I need to be there when you tell her that her Fate looks like the literal void, and it’s pitch black, of all things!”
Annaliese raised an eyebrow. “Is… this a laughing matter?” she asked questioningly, not understanding the apparent joke.
Scytale stopped laughing to answer her question. “Black fate probably just represents how she’s not supposed to have a ‘future’, so it’s not going to kill her. As for why I am laughing… I keep saying to Lucy that she’s obsessed with the colour black, but she keeps denying it! She blatantly ignores she has this whole theme going on!”
She paused to consider his words, and her eyes widened in realisation. “Ooooh. Now I get it. But does that really apply to her?” she wondered aloud.
“Black hair. Black mask. Black coat. Black trousers. Black shirt. I’m not quite sure how to emphasise my point any more than this.”
Annaliese blinked as she considered his words, and shrugged when she couldn’t find anything to refute. She stood up and stretched. “So, her Fate means she has no ‘future’?”
Scytale flickered his tongue. “Nope, not saying anything. That fits in the same category as that secret you want to know from Lucy. She’d be fine telling you about it when you ask though.”
She sighed. “I just wish I knew where she was, so I could get my questions answered as soon as possible.”
“But I know where she is?” Scytale said.