Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS
It had been a few days, and Deuvar still found himself mulling over the conversation he had with the Leader about the concern of Janottka’s potential presence on the station. His reaction had simply been so… lackluster. It was as if his surprise was muted, or he had already suspected something. The man had always been something of an ill-tempered enigma, but recently something had seemed off about him, somehow. Deuvar was not certain he could have put words to it had he made the attempt.
For one, his temper had cooled, and he seemed much easier to deal with, aside from the fact that he had been sending messages through mediums other than Deuvar and his sister. Prior to last week, the aged hermit had not done that in years. More importantly, his responses seemed more measured than before. The Leader had never been a fool, but he had certainly been the sort to meet force with force. His orders now almost seemed foolish, as if they were designed to intensify the conflict.
But Deuvar trusted him. The old man had created this organization from almost nothing, and he had always done well by Deuvar. Loyalty was vital, and he had to simply assume that the Leader had a particular plan in mind, based on evidence that Deuvar lacked. He had already straightforwardly asked the man about what his intentions were, only to get brushed aside.
Perhaps the Leader was worried that Rachel and perhaps Janottka might be listening in, and thus could not speak his plans aloud, or give away too many hints to a potential Shade which might overhear it. It was a worthy consideration, Deuvar thought, but in truth it only made his job more difficult. To that end, he had finally found himself an assistant.
Her name was Sitki, a Korlove woman who had previously worked as an accountant, and later a factory manager. She had set up a desk in the office adjacent to his, and so far he was satisfied with the efficiency and quality of her work, though it had only been a day.
Sitki was a brisk and even-toned speaker, her voice always sounding as if she were bored, but according to her references, she was said to be very attentive to detail and skilled at personnel management. He felt that she would likely be qualified to reduce some of his workload, particularly in the sectors of logistics and book-keeping.
In part, he had chosen her because of her professional acumen, and reported talents, but he had also picked her because he felt she would be loyal.
Sitki was actually the cousin of Akekha, one of the more experienced squad leaders among the military force of the organization. Deuvar knew that Akekha wished to be promoted to a management position, but had always denied the request, feeling that it would be a waste of her talents. Some would call it nepotism to provide preferential hiring to the family members of ranking personnel, but Deuvar was a staunch believer that this practice increased feelings of belonging and loyalty. In his estimation, this was far and beyond more important than meritocracy.
Deuvar sighed, standing and quickly stretching his lengthy and muscular limbs. He had yet to fully adjust to his new office chair, which he had been parked in for almost twelve hours now.
Given the currently rough condition of the headquarters, it was inevitable that they had to move their operations center. This was, however, an opportunity that Deuvar had grasped to reorganize operations. They were able to have some of the employees such as accountants and managers work from home, which not only reduced the number of people they would need to guard, but also helped these members to feel safer. A corporation might have suffered concerns of lowered employee productivity, but the Heirs lacked such concerns. An underworld organization not only found it much easier to develop loyalty in its members, but was also much better at motivating them when strictly necessary.
While he felt that putting the work in now would reduce headaches for later, Deuvar was still far too weary. He could not imagine how much paperwork he would have needed to deal with if he had not thought to recruit Sitki in advance.
Finishing his stretches, Deuvar returned to the seat, but did not lift any of his slates, his mind continuing to be lost in thought.
The underworld of Tseludia was a swampy lake, and Deuvar was a fisherman attempting to navigate it. The undercurrents were murky, and he could not discern in which direction they ran. This was natural, of course. No single man would fully be able to comprehend the thoughts and plans of all others. Not when the situation was this complex.
The best he could hope for was to notice the general trend, though at the moment, even that eluded him.
When they had first met up at the Leader’s abode to discuss their plans moving forward, Deuvar had expected the inner circle of the Heirs to truly join together and toss aside their own priorities for the good of the organization. Their fates were tied together now, and he had expected everyone to act like it. Instead, the Leader was more enigmatic than ever, while Astna continued to play tricks behind the scenes. Kalthen was the only one who was hiding no deep secrets, as far as Deuvar was aware, but the young man had spent the past few weeks hard at work coordinating the titan program. And finally, Triezal. Deuvar had a positive opinion of the younger man, but could not help but always remain suspicious of him due to his background.
Of them all, Deuvar was the only one who had never made moves in secret. He saw himself as the sort to be upfront, as one would expect of the one who managed the majority of the organization’s policy. Perhaps, he thought, he should make such plans himself. If Triezal was correct, then the ten year deadline might be a vastly optimistic outline.
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First, however, he would need to finish the reorganization, and see how the war progressed. The current situation was good, though precarious, and he felt it was still the time to stir the pot.
The time for overturning it would arrive later.
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Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS
Karie first heard of Wei’s death as she was reading through the daily news. She had been resting after a spirit training session, but had lost all thoughts of her exhaustion after seeing the ill news. She shivered, momentarily unable to accept what she was reading, and dropped the tweezers, nearly damaging the small potted tree before her.
She felt isolated, alone in the endless expanses of the universe, more so than ever before. Had no one even thought to contact her? Had nobody thought that she might wish to know? One of the most important figures in her life was gone, and she had not learned about it until days later.
Karie wanted to believe that her mother, at least, still supported her. She must have simply been too distraught to think to inform her. Karie could understand that. But none of her relatives, not one sibling, aunt, uncle, or cousin had thought to tell her. Her Uncle Wei had been more a father to Karie than her actual father had been. He had been alive, after all. Now they were both dead, lost to the Sunlit Kingdom. Karie gritted her teeth.
Her Uncle Wei had always been there for her. Even in the busiest of times he had made sure to find time for her, and had been the greatest supporter of her aspirations ever since she was a little girl who had fled her homeland.
Karie felt her fist start to clench, so she quickly set down the fragile tweezers, and moved away from the tree. She knew she would deeply regret her actions if she were to damage it.
Her mental state was odd, she realized. The intense emotions were washing through her, and yet her mind was clear, dissociated from them. It was helpful, but the sensation was odd, as if something was wrong. It was right for her to cry, to break a wall. To break the bones of those who had failed to inform her of this.
So much for family, she thought. Blood was only so thick. Even the direct family members could not be trusted, much less those who were more distant in their relations to her. For all she knew, someone had purposefully restricted this information from her so that she missed the memorial service.
She had no way to know whether that was the case or not, but Karie did know that she would not allow it to happen. No matter what, she would not miss Wei’s memorial. She would not be able to live with herself if she missed such an important event.
Moving rapidly, as if she was scared of losing her clear-minded state, Karie removed a terminal from a table in the corner of the room, and quickly made sure to initiate a video call. As she had expected, he responded almost immediately.
The man in question was another of her cousins, though Joden had not an iota of martial talent. Instead, he had taken training to work in logistics for the clan. He had been assigned to ensure she received everything she required to survive just fine during her temporary exile. He was of a similar age to her, though he appeared at least a decade older by now, because of his lacking martial arts. Having grown up at the same time, the two of them knew one another quite well. That did not, of course, mean that their relationship was in any way positive.
Joden's face soon appeared on the terminal’s surface with a scowl, annoyed by the disruption.
“Is something the matter?” he asked, speaking in a bland tone.
“When’s the memorial?” she asked. Karie had intended to do so in a calm manner, but the words had emerged far more harshly than she’d intended, leaving Joden taken aback. His eyes narrowed, instantly comprehending the matter at hand.
“Karie, I understand how you feel, but I was told not to allow your return until-”
Karie’s eyes blazed, and she could feel her cores start to heat up as the miasma within roiled furiously.
“You may tell them that I will return after I attend. But I will certainly be there, and I will not allow you to stop me. My mother will surely allow me to attend my Uncle’s memorial.”
““I’ll have to ask the Su-”
“If you ask anyone,” she interjected, “ask my mother. Nobody else is qualified to answer matters of the Council of Elders.”
The image of Joden Hadal shook his head firmly.
“That goes against policy and chain of command, Karie.”
Karie gritted her teeth at him.
“It is Elder Karie, if need be. And I have a right to tell you to send messages to the Matriarch, Joden. ”
As if considering her words, Josen paused for a moment before shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, Elder Karie, but we simply do not-”
Karie smiled, and cocked her head in her best imitation of a coquettish pose, before speaking in a manner most unbefitting of her current pose.
“I expect you’ll tell me when and where the event is planned for, unless you wish for me to return to the headquarters to break in.”
Joden sighed theatrically, resigned to Karie’s antics. She had acted similarly as a child, and he knew that he could expect her to follow through with her insanity. She had dropped an entire stack onto Juen, after all.
“I’ll see what I can do, but I won’t make any promises.”
“The choice is yours,” she said simply, before ending the call. She was then left alone once more in the small room, unsure what to say or do. Green mist silently began to pool in the air around her, but Karie failed to notice.
God of Death: [Despite the variety of beings worshiped as gods, there are none in current records who claim domain over ‘death’. This noticeable gap has been remarked upon, though the consensus is often that many religions claim their object of worship has their own afterlife for their believers. In that sense, some say, the power of death is one which belongs to every deity. Others have noted that until just a few centuries ago, the theology of the Church of Verain had begun to shift to a greater focus on rites and hymns of the dead, expanding from a mere focus on conflict and war. All of a sudden, however, that trend reversed, and the church instead began to focus more on her identity as Goddess of Conflict and Competition. The rites and hymns created during that period were all subsequently altered, and their focuses shifted to match the new trend.]