CAP 9: In the name of the father

Lower Wind Month, 15th day, 18.00

"So, that's how things went?"

Rufus quickly and diligently inspected the reports that had been delivered to him: in all, there were five packages written by members of the Black Scriptures and a summary that highlighted the most important events prepared by the Cardinals. A clear idea of the situation began to form in his mind.

"Yes, we ran into the Zurrernorn sect and clashed with their leaders. We had no casualties and dealt a terrible blow to their organization. They will probably never recover from the loss of their leader."

His pupil looked at him intensely with her bichromatic eyes. She rocked absentmindedly in the chair he'd offered her at the beginning of the meeting, while teasing her ponytail with her fingers.

An expression between bored and half satisfied headed her milk-white face. The tips of her ears poked shyly out of her tousled hair in graceful, undulating motions.

He expected that battlefield experience had transformed her into a more diligent and disciplined soldier, but the reality that had presented itself to his eyes was quite different.

Still, he couldn't be entirely unhappy with that lack of change.

In fact, he was strangely pleased to see that it was the same Antilene as always.

"To think that the leader of that cult was one of the legendary Night Liches. It was imprudent of me and the Council to send you to that place without proper support. Thanks to Alah Alaf the situation was resolved in the best way. I don't want to imagine what could have happened, otherwise. I would never have forgiven myself for a mishap."

"Why are you so hard on yourself?" Antilene asked him indifferently. "Sure, that undead was stronger than normal, and had legendary monsters at his disposal as devotees, but taking him out was like a walk in the garden. Honestly, given the anguish with which they are described, I was expecting something more ominous. Phew, at least I should have gained some experience."

Rufus had to muster all of his strength to avoid putting a shocked expression on his face. For normal Godkins, even if not insurmountable, a Night Lich should still have proved to be a challenging and perilous opponent to face. And instead, his disciple spoke of it as if it were only an insignificant ant to be crushed. He had to admit to himself that he was beginning to feel a little fearful.

Was there a limit to what she was capable of?

"Did you have to use all the cards at your disposal to get rid of him? It could have been a good opportunity to improve your mastery of the skills of the Gods."

"No, nothing that compelling, sadly. Even the most basic martial arts were enough to win the match. Wait, I'll show you how it went!"

The half-elf got up to position herself in the middle of the room and engage in a simulated fight with imaginary opponents. She hopped back and forth, gesturing with her hands and body to describe the actions she had performed in a childlike fashion.

"And at that point, the Death Cavaliers surrounded me. But I was very skilled in breaking the encirclement with graceful mastery."

"He then tried to immobilize me with a flaming circle, but with my extraordinary physical strength, it was child's play to break free. You should have seen the expression of amazement on their faces. Even skeletons can show bewilderment, I've found out. Can you do it?"

"As the last move, Kunivela attempted a spell imbued with much more energy than before. I believe it was in the 8th-tier enchantment realm, but I'm not entirely sure. He managed to do some damage to me, so surely was out of the ordinary. Anyway, nothing to worry about."

Rufus carefully observed this clumsy attempt to reproduce a clash that, due to its scale and the players on the pitch, could very well have become legendary.

In a small, narrow space like that, instead, it took on the connotations of a popular farce.

But his pupil seemed so satisfied to show him every little detail by scurrying from one side of the circular room to the other, that he couldn't find the courage to tell her that he already had an idea of how things had gone thanks to the statements of the other Black Scripture members.

Rosalie and the others, concerned for the safety of the girl, had kept a safe distance to keep a watchful eye on the situation and intervene in case they had to beat a withdrawal.

Obviously, nothing had occurred to require their intervention. The woman, with whom he had had an interview that same morning, at one point had confided in him that never in their lives her and her companions had felt so ineffective and pathetic as at that moment.

The distance was simply too much to bridge.

"8th tier huh? Using it for us is not impossible, but it requires a specific ritual, over magic, and the use of casters capable of at least using the 5th tier. That there was someone able to use it so freely and quickly is exceptional. Too bad he's dead, I would have liked to question him and acquire more information about his knowledge."

"Oh!" Antilene lost all the excitement she had shown up to that moment and froze, realizing she had made a terrible mistake. "I should have let him live, shouldn't I? Take him as a prisoner so that you could study all his knowledge in detail. Instead, I got caught up in a hurry and made a mess. I'm sorry I let you down."

The stricken expression on her face was like a jab for Rufus. He cursed his big mouth and tried to put the pieces back together.

"Nono, asking for more in circumstances like the ones you faced would have been irresponsible and foolish. More than anything I am delighted to see that things have worked out in the best way, without even one casualty. I feel great satisfaction in seeing how masterfully you managed to accomplish the mission. I'm proud of you."

"Do you really think so?"

"I think so."

His disciple began to calm down again and gradually lose the concern that was peeping into her face. A small triumphant smile began to adorn her pale face.

Though Rufus was amazed to notice a hint of melancholy radiated from her irises. Was it just a suggestion?

Even as her abilities are out of the norm, she remains a little girl in need of approval like many others. Not even I realized how much normality lies behind those frightening abilities. Ah, if only that woman, Nazaire, was still here. Surely, she would have been more qualified to handle teenage girls.

More than just capable fighters and extraordinary sorcerers were needed to keep a nation going. Even ordinary men and women like Antilene's old nurse were indispensable in sustaining the foundations of the Theocracy.

Prowess on the battlefield was absolutely essential, no one could say otherwise. But on the other hand, it alone was not enough to carry forward the project of a nation bright for all, like that of the Slaine Theocracy.

Even those who possessed qualities not indispensable for survival against the incessant struggle with other races retained irreplaceable value for the realization of that elusive dream of peace and prosperity so much sought.

Sure, many would have proved ineffective in bringing down a crazed troll or subduing a basilisk hungry for human flesh. But without economists, jurists, bureaucrats, and merchants, however, the country could not have functioned as efficiently as it did now.

This was the beauty of humanity that his creators extolled, that same beauty that he now tried with all his energies to preserve and protect. A sacred task that he fulfilled with the utmost professionalism.

"Yet, master, I can't be entirely gratified regarding the last few days."

The doubtful words of his disciple distracted him from his hidden reasoning.

"What bothers you so much?"

Zurrernorn probably would have continued to exist without his spiritual guide, but it was undeniable that the blow that had been dealt to it would have made the cult's next moves much, much more discreet.

For a long time, they would have not assumably heard of them.

"From what we learned from the executives and the captives on the return journey, we can assume there is a mysterious force that is plotting in the shadows, the cause of this disaster. Not being able to find out what it was leaves a bad taste in my mouth, honestly. I feel like I've done the job halfway."

"Yes, I have read about this unpleasant news. Unfortunately, at the moment we have no trail to follow and we can do nothing but wait for new revelations to reveal themselves to our eyes. It's frustrating, but at least this will keep us in mind that our borders are not as secure as we thought. We have a lot to rebuild. What do you think of the situation?"

Antilene began to run her fingers along the underside of her chin, quizzically. More than locked in deep thoughts, she seemed like a silly imitation of someone she'd been closely observing for the past week.

"Kunivela spoke of various kingdoms in a remote part of the Continent affected by a curse probably similar to the one that afflicted our villages. Since my return, I have had all possible accounts procured from the Cardinals' archives dealing with places far from our classical sphere of influence. But so far, I haven't achieved great results if we exclude some unpleasant migraines."

"In the end, what do we know for sure about this particular magical rite? People who instantly become zombies or other types of undead in such a large area of reference. If, indeed, as you say, not only small peripheral areas but entire nations have previously been affected, we are faced with a weakened version of the same magic, or this time the perpetrator of this villainy decided to operate on a smaller scale than in the past. Assuming it's the same culprit, of course."

Reevaluating the numerous possibilities that stood out in his mind, Rufus had to note with dismay that the situation presented many concerns: not only was the use of that strange spell new to them, but the mysterious culprit was an unknown factor that could not be left unexplored for a long time, risking that it would recur even more perilous in the future.

"As we escorted them to the prisons, we gleaned as much information as possible from Zurrernorn executives, but with little actual results. They have described this ritual of theirs in broad mystical and arcane terms but, in practice, they remain in the dark like us. In reality, even their leader spoke of it as a mere hypothesis and not something certain. In any case, I doubt we will find the explanations to our questions anytime soon. It would be great if the wind brought us the treasures we seek, but Nekole can be a capricious God at times."

The frustration of having a puzzle that was missing fundamental pieces was strong, but at the moment there were very few things they could do to break that deadlock. There was no choice but to wait to see how the situation developed, using the utmost vigilance possible.

"It appears, judging by your accounts, that one of the executives managed to escape taking some of their most important research with him. Is that right?"

From the remains of the elder liches with whom the half-elf had fought, they had plundered some magical items of exquisite workmanship. Not comparable to the relics of the Gods, of course, but still superior to the norm. They were awaiting sorting into other Scriptures, as they studied the actual power they wielded.

Instead, what was missing, from what he had been able to hypothesize, were the writings containing the details of Kunivela's studies. Rufus was sure that unimaginable wisdom was enclosed within them.

"Yes, it's correct. After rounding up the bodies and prisoners, their spokeswoman, a woman called Etysh, informed us that one of her comrades was missing. But after a couple of hours of looking for him, we concluded that he had gone into hiding. We do not know if he took advantage of the confusion to find a way out or if Kunivela himself gave him instructions, before the start of the conflict, to secure all his precious notes. Personally, I lean towards the second hypothesis. Had he been present during the Spartiate assault, he would have had little chance of escape."

"And can we trust the words of this woman, this Etysh?"

Antilene remained engrossed for a few moments, evidently intent on retracing the last interactions with their prisoner, avoiding giving a hasty response.

"Yes, I think so. After seeing their leader being annihilated, she completely lost all remnants of her fighting spirit. It was her who convinced the surviving members to surrender, after realizing that they had no more chances. And she was always the one to answer all our questions about the situation and the cult. Don't be too ruthless towards that woman. She indeed committed serious crimes, but I don't think she is irredeemable. In the end, all this mess wasn't even Zurrernorn's fault, even if they took advantage of it to complicate the situation even more."

"Where does all this compassion come from? I remind you that they are in any case heretics who are the creators of unspeakable horrors!"

"I understand that. But don't you think too many people died in a few days? Isn't it the duty of the adepts of the Six Great Gods to preserve every form of human life?"

Rufus was amazed by such a charitable argument. Perhaps, after all, she had learned something from that mission.

"Um, I promise you nothing. But I will try to put in a good word for the Supreme Council."

At the moment the thorny question concerning the fate of the captured cultists was in the expert hands of the Judiciary Department, which acted in concert with the Cardinal's Departments of Darkness and Wind.

Each dicastery under the control of the Cardinals maintained a series of immovable bureaucratic functions concerning the future projects of the country, the coordination with the other administrative branches, the management of public money and the new economic maneuvers, the preservation of public and cultural works, the study and the elaboration of dogmas, etc.…

However, each Cardinal had the possibility of giving the exercise of his function a personal imprint based on his area of professional experience.

For example, the current Cardinals of Darkness and Wind came, respectively, from the Supreme Court and the Legislative Assembly of the clergy of the Theocracy and had, as close collaborators, narrower professionals specialized in the same subjects.

Even the command of the Six Scriptures was entrusted to a Cardinal, according to custom chosen from one of the members of the Blacks who had retired from service.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

So, to resolve the most complex issues, not just judicial ones, it was almost natural to request their intervention to set up a specialized team with the other administrative bodies.

Now, the inquiries of the prisoners belonging to the cult of Zurrernorn raised important questions.

To begin with, their crimes were not limited to Slane territory alone but encompassed most of the neighboring nations such as the Kingdom of Re-Estize, the Baharuth Empire, the Holy Kingdom, and even the alliance of city-states of Karsanas and the Argland Council State.

At present, there were no international conventions governing the sorting of transnational criminals and a formal extradition request would have to be accepted by the country hosting the prisoner to be effective.

For the moment, the capture of the cultists had remained secret. But it would not be long before the spies present in the Theocracy reported the matter to their masters.

Before long, numerous delegations would show up at their door, claiming what they believed was rightfully theirs.

Someone might have wondered why other nations were so interested in wanting to judge those worshipers of blasphemous deities firsthand.

Indeed, leaving everything in the hands of the Slaine justice system might have seemed like a more considered and sensible choice. A saving of precious time and resources, that could be used for projects that were alternatively more profitable.

But the truth was, those in their custody weren't low-level bandits or petty crooks.

Each of Zurrernorn's necromancers brought with them magical knowledge superior to that of the ordinary sorcerers who crowded the surface world.

With the excuse of a lighter sentence, or with more suitable methods of persuasion, it would have been easy to bring that baggage of information to one's side and reinforce war and technological assets. Especially now that the cultists morale and scope were reduced to an all-time low.

The alternatives that lay ahead were therefore many: on the one hand, they could have executed them all and closed the matter quickly without risking diplomatic incidents, given that hardly anyone would have risked making enemies of one of the most powerful states in the territory for what they were, at least as far as public opinion was concerned, a band of heretics without Gods. A quick and effective solution that would have saved possible future conflicts, but which brought very few long-term benefits.

On the other hand, they could have acted quickly and set up various diplomatic committees to hand over fewer valuable members to their neighbors on their initiative, while leaving the executives of the organization in their hands.

In that way, they would not only have kept the most valuable knowledge towards themselves, but would also have shown a predisposition for collaboration on an international level that could have proved useful for the near hereafter.

At the same time, the other human kingdoms would not have been completely defeated and would still have gained fruitful capabilities for their future.

Rufus believed that the second option was the most propaedeutic for the future of Slaine and humanity as a whole. However, the unknowns were represented not only by the possible reaction of other countries, which could have sensed the deception, but also by the predisposition for Etysh and her companions to work for them.

"Tell me," he said to his pupil, "do you think it would be possible to convince that woman and her companions to serve our cause? An affirmative answer could make their survival almost certain."

"I'm sure!" The half-elf answered with determination. "Give them a chance and they won't let you down. If they should think of pulling some bad joke, I'll take care of putting them back in line."

The conviction with which she expressed that statement convinced him of the genuineness of the proposal.

"I understand. If you are so convinced, I just have to report your suggestion to the Cardinals and the Pontifex. I already have some ideas with which they can be useful. Starting with flushing out the other affiliates that didn't end up in our grasp."

The afternoon light was starting to lessen. The last reddish rays of sunset receded to make room for the cold embrace of the moon and stars.

"By now I think the hour has come to take our leave, my dear. See you tomorrow afternoon to resume our training program. Though I wonder if it's really necessary and if you still need my guidance. Anyway, fifteen o'clock sharp. Punctual."

But Antilene did not take leave. In fact, she remained motionless, biting her lip. It was evident that something was troubling her soul.

"Before I leave, I must confess something to you, master."

The undead wondered what might be causing such agitation. He had a hard time believing that there could be anything that needed his attention. Nonetheless, he decided to listen to his pupil's concerns.

"Tell me everything. I'm here to listen to you."

"It was before we started fighting. Kunivela made me an offer which, in his opinion, would be irrefutable."

The self-confidence she flaunted until a few minutes ago had disappeared, replaced by an atypical hesitation, unnatural for a self-confident girl like her.

"What did he propose to you that was so irresistible?"

"He was sure that if he could complete the ritual, he would be able to control life and death without the limitations of today's magic. He…he said he'd be able to bring her back here with us. That I could hug her again."

Oh, now he comprehended everything.

"And what did you answer him?"

"I…I hesitated. It was only for an instant, I swear. But for that single moment, I was tempted to reach out my hand and accept. I let you down. I was not as perfect as my position in Black Scripture would have required. I was about to put my selfishness before the good of the mission. From tomorrow, I will resume my apprenticeship even more seriously. I will not make such a misstep again. Please forgive me."

No, she hadn't let him down. Far from it. But how could he make the little girl understand? Why was it so difficult to express his emotions? Was it for his skeletal condition? Or was his soul as empty as his body?

"My dear, you have nothing to reproach yourself with. Temptation reminds us that we are still mortal, that we are still capable of being tied to earthly affections. Don't be ashamed of your weaknesses, but be proud that you were able to overcome them."

He placed a hand on her shoulder to show his understanding. Antilene seemed to calm down.

"Do you…do you think she would be proud if she saw me now?"

"…I'm sure of it."

Rufus felt a grip trapping him around the waist. No, it wasn't as strong as a grip. It was something sweeter and more tender. A sign of vulnerability and love.

"Do you mind if I stay like this a little longer? Just a little more?"

"…No, I don't mind."

"You are warm. You remind me of Auntie Nazaire."

He doubted those old bones of his could transmit anything remotely similar to warmth. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

"Another minute like this, okay?"

Only the two of them remained in that small moment, as time lost its meaning.

What a waste!

Decem Hougan regarded the sickening scene before his eyes with contempt.

His favorite concubine had decided to take her own life by slitting her veins on what had been his favorite bed a few hours earlier.

The girl's bodily fluids soaked into what was his favorite blanket; an unpleasant cadaverous smell vehemently tickled his royal nostrils.

Those were my favorite sheets. The feel with which the linen caressed the skin was exquisite. Why did she decide to take her own life in this very place where we shared so many pleasant memories?

It was an unfathomable mystery. Retracing all the sweet memories spent in that nuptial bed, it was even more inconceivable that his favorite had decided to end it right in that special place.

But why? Hadn't he shown her all his attention and passion, by calling her more than once to his bed? What could have prompted the girl to make such an inexplicable gesture?

She had captured his attention from the first moment Decem had led her into intimacy. Unlike her fellow townspeople, she was able to understand how noble and important the duty that had been entrusted to her was.

He knew what many of his mistresses thought: that his plan to raise the elves to splendor and greatness was just an elaborate excuse to satisfy his sinful appetites.

Ridiculous! Inconceivable! Outrageous!

Dirtying his royal body by binding it to that of inferior beings was a continuous torture for his essence. But he was more than happy to sacrifice himself if it would lead his kingdom to greatness.

The others couldn't see it, but she could.

Amelia. This was her name. And from the beginning, she had been smart enough to grasp that his intention of creating a perfect race of elves was the only possible solution for the realization of an immortal empire that would rule the world until the end of time.

And his seed was the only viable way to bring that utopia to reality. With an army of his own kind, who could ever stop them?

Sometimes he considered he was the only one who cared about that timeless dream.

The pitiful state in which the war proceeded did nothing but prove him right. Those miserable humans won every battle they waged against his subjects.

Of course, he could have intervened himself and put an end to it on the spot. But what degenerate father doesn't let his children come out of his shadow and take flight with their own wings?

Certainly not him. He generously gave every one of his offspring a chance to distinguish himself and make him proud, although the results so far had been disappointing. How could they hope to win his love without demonstrating the extraordinary abilities he had bestowed upon them?

Yet, most of his progeny had proved utterly incapable of performing feats worthy of his attention.

If his genetic makeup was perfect, and it couldn't be otherwise, then the only possible explanation was that the qualities of the women he mated with were well below his expectations. He strained again and again, but kept failing, without getting any noteworthy outcomes.

Amelia, in recent times, had led him to momentarily rekindle the light of hope.

The interest she showed in his life denoted cognitive abilities well above the norm. The long chats that had enlivened their evenings would forever be a memory that would be carried with affection in his heart.

How long since he showed such a vulnerable side to another living thing? His position brought obligations and duties that alienated him from the common vulgar, but even a regal presence like he was, found the company of another person gratifying. Not only on a physical level, but also an intellectual and moral one.

She hadn't had time to grant him an heir, which was a great disappointment. He hoped that this would turn out to be the right time, but once again his desires were dashed.

He was used to it by now.

Did she kill herself for that?

For someone as perceptive as he was, it was obvious why the girl showed such an insistent attachment to him.

Love.

After all, for a woman to fall in love with him, it was only natural. His beauty, physical and magical capabilities, and intellect stood out above any other man in all of Evasha Forest. That it aroused such feelings in a young woman was as normal as the wind blowing or the rain descending on earth.

Of course, it was completely unthinkable that he could reciprocate her sentiments. The difference in social class was too great for it to be translated into something concrete. A few hours earlier he had clearly told her that he was aware of everything and that he would act accordingly and now, here was the harvest of what he had sown.

Had he been too hard on her?

However, lying wouldn't be fair after the devotion she'd shown him.

But…but she didn't need to resort to such an extreme gesture to show him her love.

Not that he didn't appreciate it, of course. He just thought it a waste to lose such a precious life just for a show of loyalty and dedication.

In the end, he decided to forgive her. It was the job of a good ruler to honor the last memories of his subjects. And he stood in the world as the best monarch of all.

He left his private room to head into the entrance hall of the royal palace, where two sentries were standing, keeping watch with the utmost attention.

They almost looked like capable warriors. Almost.

"You!" He said, turning to them. "Come here immediately."

The two, as if dragged by a mysterious and unstoppable energy, approached as soon as possible to kneel at his feet.

"At your orders, Your Majesty!"

"Tell us what we have to do and it will be done!"

They were visibly shaking like a pair of leaves blown in a hurricane. What a pathetic sight. Were these the best men he could count on?

"An unfortunate incident has occurred in my room. I want this resolved as soon as possible; no time wasted. Have we understood each other?"

"It will be done, Your Highness!"

"We won't let you down!"

They would have had to work hard to fail that simple task and dissatisfied him. But he didn't say anything else. Wasting time with two idiots would have been counterproductive.

He watched them go with embarrassing awkwardness.

Were they the best the land had to offer? It was no marvel that those foolish humans of the Theocracy were able to attain victory after victory.

With such incompetent soldiers, the reverse would have been indeed strange.

If only he could have found a way to make them useful. For a long time, he endeavored to create a magic that was able to change the biological sex of the target, in such a way as to increase the chances of generating the coveted fantastic progeny. Unfortunately, the results had been unsatisfactory and he had to give up.

Perhaps the secret of this spell was kept among the legacies of those phantom Six Gods of the Theocracy.

Decem was sure of their existence, but doubted their divine essence. After all, the only ones who could have boasted a high-sounding title as a deity were individuals of a very different caliber.

Speaking of the Theocracy, I wonder if that child is still alive.

Some time ago, he had allowed a woman of that nation to bear the fruit of his love in her womb. She hadn't accepted willingly, as far as he remembered, but it mattered very little what a pathetic human managed to grasp of his revolutionary design.

Instead, what interested him was the fruit of that so unusual union: certainly, the one with whom he had lain was not a human-like so many others, given her skills in battle, far inferior to his obviously, but still worthy of note. No, what piqued his curiosity was the child who should have come into the world. His abilities in the future could prove worthy of his attention.

For the moment he would let those cheap priests think about germinating that intriguing seed. Who could know, maybe methods other than the ones he usually employed might prove more effective than he thought. And when the right moment would come, he would go and take what was rightfully his, as the patient farmer waits for the right moment before reaping his crop.

After all, time wasn't something he lacked.

"Majesty, may I steal but a second from you?"

As he strolled through the wide, ornately decorated corridors of his splendid home, the prime minister decided to pilfer some precious time from him.

He was a heavily built, well-trained man, but otherwise possessed no physical characteristics that would set him apart from the multitude of people in his employ.

In terms of intellectual ability, he was certainly not one of the brightest minds he had ever met. Indeed, he had no marked aptitude for politics and authority at all.

Were it not for him, Decem was sure the realm would already have collapsed under constant infighting. Another reason why those elves should have been grateful to him. Too many to count, at this point.

"Go ahead, I'm listening."

In truth, he didn't want to listen to his futile pleas about the war at all. But among the duties of a ruler, there were also unpleasant tasks.

"It's about your son."

"Be more specific."

"Nonviventium, your majesty!"

"Ah, now I understand who you are talking about."

Lies. But he really didn't want to stay there and continue that silly little game. If he didn't remember him, it meant that the boy didn't count in the big picture at all.

"I am sorry to inform you that we found his body this morning during a reconnaissance mission. Probably the victim of an onslaught of Theocracy purgatory squads."

"And why are you alerting me?"

The minister was stunned as terror began to paint his face. He started to stammer furiously, as he searched for an excuse to justify the waste of time it had caused him.

"I…I…t-t-thought this was n-n-news to bring to your attention. F-f-forgive your humble s-servant."

Decem sighed with resignation. He could overlook that reckless affront since the official had recently joined the palace staff, no more than twenty years if he remembered correctly.

The man was fortunate that his person brimmed with clemency.

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Rather, I tasked two soldiers with cleaning my rooms. Make sure they do a proper job and, after they're done, let me find one of the concubines waiting for me in bed. I will be meditating in the treasure room. Call me when you're ready."

"Of course, everything will be prepared perfectly for your delight."

He too took his leave with a particular frenzy.

Delight? Far from it. But no need to correct him.

Few places brought serenity to Decem's soul like his treasure room.

A reminder of a past time that had been cruelly taken away from him was the cradle where he affectionately kept not only the material bequests, but also all the most precious memories left by his deceased parent.

In the entire history of creation, there had been no being remotely comparable to his late father and his companions in adventure.

The 8 Greed Kings were called with disdain by pathetic bugs who couldn't contemplate their greatness. But he knew the truth. He treasured it in the depths of his heart as the most precious of heirlooms.

A loving figure gracefully moved around those precious objects in a past so distant, but at the same time so close, that he felt he could grasp it with his hand.

So proud. So impressive. So noble. So loving.

His childhood was a flower garden whose flowers smelled the fragrant smell of indigo and violet. And at the center of this bucolic picture was him, his father, who caressed little Decem with love filling his ears with talks full of affection.

Making him proud was the greatest joy of the elf king's life. The banal earthly pleasures were not even minimally comparable to the gratification it gave him to see his parent filled with pride. He had never been as content as in that now increasingly distant period.

Every time he came to that area, he promised himself not to start crying thinking about the carefree remembrances of the past. And each time it got harder and harder.

He couldn't afford to remain the capricious child he once was. More important tasks were waiting to be accomplished.

Take over the world and unearth the reality about his loving father. Trample into the dust the hateful lies that had been spread about him.

Tyrant! Cruel! Merciless!

A bunch of baseless falsehoods, based only on jealousy and unjustified resentment. He knew that none of what was said outside his forest was accurate. And one day he would prove it to the globe. He had suspicions more like certainties about who had been spreading the misconceptions, and one day soon it would be time to pay the bill.

Only when everyone finally understood the superiority of his lineage and his chosen race, would he be pleased.

To lead the elves to greatness had been his glorious father's last will and, no matter the cost, he would carry it out with any means at his disposal.

Even if he had to bring his body to a continuous effort to scatter as much of his seed as possible, even if he had to endure the constant disappointments his progeny brought him, he would grit his teeth and persevere until the fateful day when his destiny would be coming true.

Sometimes he felt so tired of having to carry that ambition on his shoulders alone, but thinking back to the face full of contentment of the deceased man gave him all the energy he required.

What son wouldn't be happy to fulfill his father's wishes?

Decem would never be able to hug him again, but at least he would make his dream come true.

That was enough for the Elven King.

"Majesty."

Who dared to disturb him?

"The room is ready. The chosen one is waiting for nothing but your arrival."

Sigh. He would have gladly avoided the chore, but his kingdom needed him.

For the umpteenth time, he prepared to assume his responsibilities. This time he was sure he would get the coveted success.

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