Cerberus HQ, Jacob’s Laboratory: 936, December 11th, Tuesday, 2:00 AM.
“A rock? That makes no sense…” Arwen’s mind wondered about the object lying on the table in front of him.
Cerberus’ current CEO pulled his hairs as he walked around the rectangular table—crafted from sturdy and gleaming stainless steel. His laboratory had barely any illumination, with the ceiling lamp above his head being the only source of light in the room. He continued to aimless move back and forth around the spotlight, both hands on top of his head while his eyes glanced at the rock lying on the table from time to time.
Its burnt structure gave it a carbon-like appearance at a simple glance, but its glassy and sharp edges made the small rock look closer to flint instead. A faint crimson glow would radiate from within it during rare occasions, as if mocking the anxious man walking circles around it.
“How? How? How? How?” Arwen repeated in his mind. “Was it you? But I’m your friend… I’m trying to help too. To save the world! Relax…” the gears inside his head began to fume, as many dispersed thoughts took over his mind. “There must be an explanation,” he thought. “The lieutenant… she carried this inside her pocket.”
Arwen approached the sharp object, and ran a finger through it in a quick motion of his hand—making contact with the rock by only a fraction of a second. His touch—regardless of how short it lasted, was enough for the strange object to react, and burn a tiny spot on his skin with a hissing noise.
“Ugh…” the man took a step back at the sudden heat, flapping his hand as a natural reaction. “She carried this in her own hands… it could be the spectral gear… but how can I get my hands on it?”
“Boss?” a woman’s voice interrupted Arwen’s research, forcing a flinch out of him with such a sudden call.
He quickly grabbed a large piece of cloth from the table, and placed on top of the black rock—falling down gently on top of it, and causing no reaction from the object. Arwen charged the entrance of his own laboratory while fixing his white robe, anxiously running a few fingers through his hair, and taking a deep breath before reaching a white steel door.
Making sure his breath didn’t quiver, and his face showed nothing but the smile of a movie star. Arwen proceeded to twist the doorknob, and push the door open to meet Ivanna on the other side of the door frame. The black-haired woman looked at him with curious eyes, brows lifted and mouth half open.
“Boss, are you alright?”
“I-Ivanna, what are you doing here at this hour?”
“Patrol reported strange sounds around this restricted area,” she reported. “They are not allowed to come here, so I thought I’d check myself.”
“Strange sounds? ahahah….” The man’s nerves forced him to chuckle. “I-it was just me. I’m working on a… a new medicine, as always.”
“Oh, for Sovereign?”
“Yes! It is my job after all…”
“Oh… I don’t think he would like to see you overworking yourself like this.” Ivanna claimed.
“I know, haha… I was just leaving anyway, so let’s head out.”
Naively accepting the man’s words without much of a thought, Ivanna accompanied Arwen out of the dark facility and into a narrow empty hallway—poorly illuminated by the yellow ceiling lights. They stepped out of the laboratory together, and proceeded to walk across the empty hall side by side.
Ivanna offered casual talk about the company and her own life in headquarters during their stroll, but only received hums and nods from the apprehensive CEO in return. The pair eventually reached a set of staircases that led to an upper floor, and proceeded to walk them in silence as the woman ran out of subjects to speak about.
Arwen kept both eyes glued to his own feet as he walked, filling his mind with experiments and the strange rock that was brought to him by Claire. For every step he took, a new idea popped into his head. His thoughts were filled with ideas and scenarios, looking for ways to combat the supernatural with the only thing he’s ever known—science.
“I was looking for you,” a man’s voice suddenly spoke, snapping Arwen back into reality.
Without even realizing it as he was too lost in his own head, both him and Ivanna had reached the end of the staircases, and emerged into the main building’s lobby from inside a small room—a closed area only a few authorized personnel had been given access to. Just outside of its plated steel door was a blonde man already waiting for them both, offering the expression of an experienced poker player at the game table.
“You are not allowed in this room, Albury.” Arwen told him while fidgeting with his fingers.
“I don’t need access to it,” replied the noble. “I came here to ask a few questions.”
“A-at this hour?” Ivanna joined the conversation, shocked by the man’s sudden request. “Wouldn’t be preferable to wait until morning, or maybe during lunch? We could talk during lunch today.”
Eric clenched his jaw, a reaction that went unnoticed by the pair as he tried his best to maintain a neutral expression. “I waited an entire month,” he said. “But you refuse to grant me a meeting. This wasn’t a problem before, why is going on in that office of yours?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I’m a busy man,” Arwen said confidently, as if his nerves had simply vanished in the blink of an eye. “There is so much to worry about, and I’m sure you understand the position I’m in.”
“You heard about Hydra’s attack during Bloodhoun—”
“Excuse me…” Arwen stormed passed the noble, catching both him and Ivanna by surprise.
“I’m sorry,” the woman bowed to Eric with an apology, proceeding to chase after the fleeing man.
“…” Eric was left behind by both Ivanna and Arwen, and he simply stared at the grey steel of the thick door—looking at his own unpleased reflection. “Gaspard…” he said, pressing a tiny button on a small device hanging from the collar of his shirt.
“Yes, young master?” The butler’s voice replied from the tiny speaker.
“You are not coming back to Hemel,” he calmly instructed. “But I have a question to ask you… before I make my second choice.”
“I hold no secrets from you, master Eric.”
“Have you talked to the other guy lately?”
“The other guy, sir?”
“The one you talked to me about… before Bloodhound arrived at the manor.” continued the noble. “The one who sent the letter to my father, and warned you about Chimera.”
“I’m afraid not, young master. He has not contacted me as of late, and his last call was a month before the attack at the emperor’s palace.”
“I see…”
Kingdom of Heildin, Euthemia’s Chambers: 936, December 11th, Tuesday, 2:30 AM.
The young princess curled up in her bed with wide open eyes. She stared into empty space while hugging her knees with both arms, suffocating under the tight pressure in her chest. She wore a set of pink pajamas, made from the softest of fabrics, and decorated with prints of flowers and happy animals.
The lights in her room were kept on, illuminating the pastel pink of the room’s walls, floor, and furniture surrounding her. The glass window pane in front of her bed exposed the dead capital of Heildin, with barely any street lights seen in the distance.
A screeching sound from the door of her chambers caused her to snap out of the trance, jumping into a sitting position with a gasp. Euthemia quickly rolled off the edge of her bed, and peeked from behind to watch a tall man crouching under the frame of her door—casually making his way inside the chambers.
“Brute!” she instinctively reacted at the sight of the black-haired knight. “Why are you here?”
Euthemia climbed back into the bed and walked her way to the other side, jumping off it to meet the knight with trembling hands and knees. Loki closed the door behind him, and immediately directed his attention towards her—scanning the shuttering blonde girl with a neutral expression.
“You look hideous,” he calmly stated. “Are you getting any sleep?”
“How rude! You… filthy animal!” snapped the princess. “W-why are you here? Am I in danger? You told him, didn’t you! He knows—”
“Relax,” Loki interrupted her rambling, managing to not raise his voice in the process. “I don’t know why it surprised you that I came here,” he said while crossing his arms. “It happens so often that I’m actually shocked you haven’t given me the keys yet.”
“S-shut… your mouth.”
Despite her aggressive words towards him—an attitude Loki had gotten used to over the years of knowing both princesses of Heildin, Euthemia’s furrowed brows and quivering lips took away any intention the knight had of fighting back. He ignored the girl, and moved towards the window instead, lifting the frame open with a careless motion of his hand.
The cold breeze of winter kissed his face, and he watched the tiny flakes of snow travel peacefully with the wind as sat at the edge of the window. Euthemia trembled while glancing around each corner in her room, hearing the whistling sounds of the night crawl into her chambers. She slouched, and kept both hands clasped together—with one of them being concealed under a fancy lace white glove.
“So… do you want something?” she meekly asked, moving in closer to the knight one step at a time.
“Not really, just thought you could use the company.”
“…”
“How’s the arm?”
“…It’s not… it’s not improving… you said… Loki, you said—”
“I know what I said,” he interrupted the girl a second time—waving his hand dismissively while keeping his eyes on the falling snowflakes. “I’ll deal with it when I find him, but locking yourself in here will barely do you any good.”
“And what do you want me to do!” she snapped at him. “Father almost found out… he was here again… where were you! What are you even doing!”
Loki calmly turned his gaze away from the blueish night, and moved his bright azure eyes to meet the princess distressed expression. He raised one hand in front of him, and motion for her to move in closer without uttering a single word. Euthemia recoiled at the sight of his inviting movements, placing both hands on her chest as her eyes opened wide.
“You are not my type, brute!” she retorted.
The knight raised an eyebrow at the sudden claims of the young princess, curling one corner of his lips upwards into a puzzled expression. “What?”
“Gu… what is it that you want then?”
“Haah…” Loki dropped his shoulders with a sigh before planting his feet back into the room’s gleaming marble floor, confidently stepping in front of Euthemia with little regards for personal space.
“H-hey! I told you to back o—”
In the blink of an eye, and as if the whole world had been abruptly shut down, Euthemia’s vision suddenly turned black. Her ears could no longer hear, her eyes no longer see, her hands and naked feet no longer feel, and her mind devoid of any thoughts. The unconscious princess plummeted like piles of rubble in a crumbling tower, only held up by the strength of the gladean knight in her room. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and prevent her wabbly body from hitting the floor.
Loki moved his other arm under her legs, and lifted the young girl into his arms. He gently carried the sleeping princess back into her bed, and laid her down into the soft mattress, covering her under its pink sheets. Her twitching eyes now remained closed, and her breath no longer quivered—allowing the blonde girl to rest peacefully through the early morning.
The knight moved back towards the window before pulling down its frame, closing the curtains, and turning the lights off before walking back towards the blonde girl. He grabbed a wooden chair from nearby—colored pink, to no one’s surprise, and placed it next to Euthemia’s bed. Loki rolled his eyes at the cutesy look of his sit, but crossed his arms before planting himself on it regardless of its looks.
“Look at you… since when do you need protection from anyone?” He spoke softly to the slumbering princess, who now slept like a baby in her queen-sized bed. His eyes remained fixed on the girl’s sleeping face, observing a peace so alien to him and his ways in her soothing expression. “Is this what Atalanta meant by a knight’s oath?” he whispered, proceeding to chuckle at the thought itself. “Hah, not likely… It’s not like I care about it anyway.”
END OF CHAPTER