Kingg's gaze swept over the group, his eyes as blue as a clear winter sky, and yet, there was a tempest brewing within their depths. He offered them a smile that was as warm as the sun, yet as cold as the ice that capped the distant peaks of Mount Kendo. A perfect analogy for the type of man he was; icy as Mount Kendo's peak and as volcanic as it's belly.

His gesture to sit was more than just a courteous invitation; it was a silent command that seemed to resonate through the very air itself. The nobility of the room bent and conformed around Kingg, the very shadows bowing before his divine presence. Yet, Castrol remained standing for a moment longer, his eyes locked with Kingg's, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air like the scent of an impending storm. It was as if he alone could see the chaos that brewed beneath the other man's calm facade.

But the tension was broken by the soft yet firm tug of Millie's hand on his arm. Her eyes met his, a silent message passing between them, one of caution and strategy. With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, Castrol allowed himself to be lowered into the embrace of the crimson sofa, his hand never leaving the comforting grip of his sword's hilt. The fabric was cold against his skin, a stark contrast to the fire that raged in his soul.

Tobias Kingg's eyes never left Castrol's as he approached the group, his strides long and confident, each step resonating with an unspoken power. As he reached Mathews and Lady Catherine, he offered them a greeting filled with the warmth of a summer's day, yet the corners of his mouth twitched with a knowing smile that spoke of hidden secrets and dark intentions. They bowed their heads, their faces a mirror of reverence and fear, and Castrol felt the room shrink around them, the weight of Kingg's presence as oppressive as the looming prophecy itself.

Mathews' voice was a whispered incantation as he spoke, "Your Highness, your presence is a divine blessing upon our humble gathering." Lady Catherine echoed her husband's words, her eyes never leaving the ground as she curtsied with a grace that spoke of years of practice and a lifetime of subservience.

Tobias Kingg's smile grew, a warmth that seemed to spread throughout the library, thawing the icy grip of the earlier revelations. "Ah, my dear friends," he said, his voice as rich and deep as the whiskey they had been sipping, "how delightful to find you all engaged in such a...stimulating conversation." His eyes danced with a mischievous light as they fell on Castrol and Millie. "I trust you are both well?"

Mathews and Lady Catherine rushed to assure him, their voices a cacophony of protestations and reassurances. "We are quite well, Your Highness," they exclaimed in unison, their tones a symphony of relief and gratitude. "Our health is robust, our hearts are full, and our minds are at ease knowing that you lead us into this new era of enlightenment."

Tobias Kingg's gaze remained on Castrol and Millie as he spoke, his words a gentle caress that seemed to whisper of friendship and camaraderie. "And what of our esteemed guests from Barley?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with genuine curiosity. "How do they find our little...gathering?"

Millie's smile was a work of art, painted on with a deft hand that belied the tumult of emotions churning within her. It was a smile that could have fooled the gods themselves, a smile that spoke of innocence and sweetness, yet had the sharpness of a serrated knife hidden just beneath the surface. "Oh, it's been simply...enchanting, Your Highness," she said, her voice as smooth as the whiskey they had been sipping. "We are, but ofcourse, humble travelers, eager to learn from the wisdom of our esteemed hosts."

Tobias's eyes crinkled at the corners, the lines around his mouth deepening. "Ah, I see," he said, his voice a warm embrace that seemed to wrap around them both. "The allure of the prophecy has indeed drawn many to our cause." His gaze flicked to Castrol, his smile never wavering. "And what of you, Castrol? Have you felt the call of destiny?"

The question was as loaded as the whiskey glasses on the table, and Castrol felt the weight of it pressing down on him like an invisible hand. He knew that his answer would be dissected, analyzed, and judged by every person in the room. Yet, he could not bring himself to lie. "I seek only the truth," he said, his voice firm and unyielding. "The prophecy is a curious thing, but it is not for me to say whether it brings salvation or damnation."

Kingg's smile remained, as if cast from the very essence of charm itself. "Ah, a man of principle," he said, his eyes gleaming. "How refreshing in these times of uncertainty." He took a step closer, his hand outstretched in a gesture of friendship. "But fear not, Castrol," he assured him, his voice as soothing as a lullaby. "For in the grand tapestry of fate, there is always room for those who wish to stand beside their betters."

"I am always glad to welcome new sheep to our flock," Kingg said, his smile widening to reveal perfectly straight teeth that gleamed in the candlelight. His hand remained outstretched, the gesture a silent invitation to join him in the fold of his divine purpose.

Castrol took a step forward, his hand moving almost of its own accord to grasp Kingg's, the warmth of the other man's grip like a brand searing into his skin. As their palms met, a strange energy seemed to pass between them, a spark that sent a shiver down Castrol's spine. For a moment, he felt as if he could see into the very soul of the man before him, the turmoil and power that lay hidden beneath the veneer of charm and grace.

It was Millie who broke the silence, her voice as sharp as the edge of a dagger. "Your Highness," she said, her eyes never leaving Kingg's, "I cannot help but wonder what role you play in all of this? What brought you to Sovereign?" Her words were like a pebble thrown into a still pond, sending ripples of unease through the room. The nobility around them stiffened, their eyes darting to Kingg as if seeking approval for their own thoughts.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Tobias Kingg chuckled, a sound that was as warm and rich as the whiskey they had been sharing. "Ah, the ever-curious Millie," he said, his gaze shifting to her. "Sovereign, as you may or may not know, is home to one of the largest libraries of the Avarician faith. It is a treasure trove of knowledge and wisdom that dates back to the very dawn of our civilization. I have come to seek counsel from the texts, to better understand the prophecy that has captured our hearts and minds."

He released Castrol's hand and took a step back, his movements as elegant as a dance. "But Sovereign is merely one stop on my pilgrimage, my friends," he continued, his eyes sweeping over the group. "My journey takes me to the very corners of our world, to every city and village where the whispers of the prophecy have reached. It is my divine duty to unite our people, to prepare them for the great change that is upon us."

The thought of Tobias spreading this madness across the lands was like a dark cloud descending over Castrol's soul. "A pilgrimage, you say?" Castrol's voice was as rough as the whiskey they had been forced to endure. "What cities do you plan to 'bless' with your divine wisdom, Your Highness?"

Tobias's smile never faltered, as if the question had been anticipated and prepared for. "All of them," he said simply, his voice resonating with a power that seemed to vibrate through the very air. "Every corner of Avaricia will feel the touch of the prophecy, will know the joy and the promise that lies within its words."

He doesn't even attempt to hide his ambition.

"If that is all the enlightenment you seek, Castrol," Kingg said, his smile as warm as the whiskey they had shared, "then I shall leave you to your musings." He took a sip from his glass, the amber liquid glinting in the candlelight as if it contained the very essence of his power. "But fear not," he continued, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "for tomorrow shall be a long day indeed. One filled with revelations that will no doubt challenge the very fabric of your beliefs."

With that, he turned to leave, his robes sweeping out behind him like the tail of a majestic peacock. But as the door to the library was about to swing shut, Millie's voice rang out, clear and strong. "Wait," she said, and there was something in her tone that caused the room to pause, the very air seeming to hold its breath.

Tobias Kingg's smile wavered for the briefest of moments, the first crack in the mask of charm he had worn so well. His eyes flicked back to hers, the warmth in them turning to ice as he paused, the hand on the doorknob tightening. "What is it, child?" he asked, his tone deceptively gentle, as if speaking to a curious kitten that had stumbled into the lion's den.

But Millie was no kitten. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw set. "heh, child?" she scoffed, her voice as sharp as the blade she kept hidden beneath her skirts. "I must ask Tobias, in what capacity do you address us?" The room held its breath, the air thick with the promise of a storm that had yet to break.

Mathews and Lady Catherine shot her displeased looks, their faces a tableau of indignation and shock. How dare she, a mere commoner, speak to the man who could offer them the keys to eternal life with such impertinence? Their expressions were as clear as the glass of whiskey they had been sipping, revealing their disdain for the girl who had so blatantly disregarded the social hierarchy. But the fire in Millie's gaze was a stark reminder that she was not one to be trifled with.

"...Capacity? "Tobias Kingg's smile froze, the echo of Millie's challenge bouncing off the ancient tomes lining the walls of the library. He turned to face her, the warmth in his gaze turning to a cool scrutiny. His eyes searched hers, as if trying to gauge the depth of her audacity. The room grew so still, the candles' flames seemed to quiver in anticipation of his response.

"Yes," Millie said firmly, her voice as unyielding as the steel blade she kept concealed, "Your capacity. i would just like to know how i am to properly address you. After all, titles and station are of great importance in our society, are they not?" Her eyes never left Kingg's, the challenge in her gaze unmistakable.

Tobias Kingg's smile never faltered, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he was weighing her words, perhaps even amused by her brazenness. "Ah, yes," he said at last, his voice like the smoothest silk. "In the grand scheme of things, titles and station can be...fluid. But since you ask so earnestly, I am the Pontiff of the Post-Avarician Faith. A title bestowed upon me by none other than the gods themselves, in recognition of my role in ushering in this new era of enlightenment and divine rule."

"'Post'?" Millie's eyebrows shot up, her curiosity piqued.

"Yes." Tobias Kingg's voice was as smooth as the whiskey that had warmed their throats earlier. "For we are the order that will rise from the ashes of the old world."

The room remained silent for a beat, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace. Millie leaned forward, her curiosity piqued by the revelation. "Tell us more," she said, her eyes sparkling with a feigned interest that Castrol knew all too well. "I am eager to learn from one so enlightened."

Tobias Kingg's smile grew, and for a moment, Castrol wondered if the man could see right through her act. But the Pontiff's eyes lit up with pleasure, and he took a step closer, his robes whispering against the stone floor. "Ah, an eager pupil," he said, his voice like honeyed venom. "Very well, I shall indulge you."

With a wave of his hand, the two guards standing sentinel at the door took their cue and closed it with a solid thunk that echoed through the library. The sound was like the final nail in a coffin, sealing them within the confines of the room, surrounded by the very knowledge that had been corrupted to serve the prophecy's twisted purpose.

Tobias Kingg sailed across the floor with the grace of a man who had never known a moment of doubt or fear. He took his seat in a high-backed chair, the fabric embroidered with gold threads that glinted in the candlelight like the gleam of greed in his eyes. His movements were deliberate, each gesture a silent declaration of his power and authority. The air in the room grew thick with the scent of his ambition, a scent that clung to the ancient books like the dust of a thousand forgotten dreams.

He steepled his fingers, his gaze flicking from Castrol to Millie and then back again. "Now," he said, his voice a seductive purr that seemed to coil around them like a serpent, "what is it that you wish to know? Ask your questions, and I shall indulge you with the wisdom that flows through my very veins." His sly smirk spoke volumes of the games he played, the power plays he was so adept at.

Millie returned his smirk with one of her own, a mirror to his own, and said, "Immortality. It's quite the offer, isn't it?" Her voice was sweet and light, but there was a hint of steel beneath it, a promise of the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

-To Be Continued-