[Nicholas Anstalionah.]
The sudden sound of my name startled me. I had been focused on reviewing the latest reports from the army.
It had been two days since Nicole left to join the front, and I'd done little but drown in headaches and ink ever since.
I sat quietly in my office, mindlessly signing documents and analyzing troop movements. The war was unfolding exactly as I predicted.
Malachi had led his forces south, Nicole farther southeast, while Mirabel remained behind to protect me, in case someone decided to finish what they once started.
Though, between us, I already knew who planned to make their move.
I rose from my desk and reached for the black cloak draped over the chair. White clouds patterned its fabric, calm and drifting, a cruel contrast to the violence I intended to walk into.
Sword at my side, I opened the door, nearly colliding with a knight about to knock.
He quickly lowered his hand and bowed. "Your Majesty. She's summoned you to the castle gates."
I smiled. "Ah, how convenient. I was just about to head there myself."
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I added softly, "Be at ease. I don't bite."
Ever since my change in demeanor, the knights had begun looking at me differently. Not with fear or contempt, but worry.
As though they suspected my civility was an act, that I was merely waiting for the right moment to devour them whole.
I passed the knight without another word, my pace quickening.
The image the world held of me, vile, cruel, volatile, was not entirely false.
With Gabriel's departure, I knew the Golden Authority was already on high alert.
I crossed the marble corridors swiftly, the echo of my boots trailing me until I reached the doors leading to the courtyard.
To my surprise, it wasn't just Mirabel waiting for me.
Another man stood beside her.
Short, scruffy silver hair parted neatly at the center. Black eyes. Pale lips. White garments traced with golden sigils. His presence carried a weight almost divine.
I recognized him instantly, the man who had killed me in my past life.
Mirabel smiled as he bowed politely.
"Ah, Nicholas," she said. "This is Griffin."
He returned her smile, warm and disarming. "Please, Mirabel, introductions are sacred things. You must say it properly."
She blinked. "Oh, yes. This is Saint Griffin."
I stepped forward and shook his hand. "Hahaha, don't mind her. I'm Nicholas Anstalionah — though I suspect you already knew that."
Griffin's eyes shimmered faintly. "Of course I did. After all, who among us doesn't know the name of the man who stands between heaven's silence and humanity's scream?"
His words were almost poetic, but there was something sharp behind the charm.
I grinned. "And who stands behind you, Saint Griffin? Heaven, or humanity?"
That question lingered, quiet, but loaded.
He tilted his head, amused. "I serve humanity, Nicholas. But not the humanity that crawls and weeps. I serve the one that must learn to burn, so it may rise cleansed."
Mirabel frowned. "You speak as if people must suffer to deserve saving."
He smiled at her, soft and knowing. "Is that not the way of all creation? Stars must collapse before they shine. Seeds must break before they grow."
Then his gaze returned to me. "And you understand that, don't you? You who destroy to preserve."
His tone carried no mockery, only fascination, even admiration.
I chuckled lightly. "Careful, Saint. You make me sound righteous."
"You are righteous," he replied simply. "You just lack faith in the cruelty required to finish the work."
That line hit with unsettling clarity. He wasn't jesting. He believed every word.
Mirabel folded her arms. "And how exactly do you plan to 'save' humanity, Saint Griffin?"
Griffin looked past us, toward the distant city walls, the smoke of factories rising against the pale horizon.
"By removing its sickness. By making pain sacred again. Comfort breeds decay, we grow soft, idle, pitiful. I will end that mercy before it ends us."
He turned back with a serene smile that somehow felt like a blade. "What is a few million lives, if it saves a billion more?"
For a moment, even Mirabel was silent. His voice carried that much weight.
I laughed quietly, though the sound came out colder than I intended. "That's quite the sermon, Saint. I see why they call you the Healer of Minds."
He smiled again, but this time, it reached his eyes. "Healer? No, Nicholas. I do not heal. I cure."
The word hung in the air like a death sentence, one somehow more potent than actual death.
Then, as if the moment had passed, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver trinket, a crow, finely crafted.
"Take this," he said, pressing it into my palm. "Trust me, you'll need it soon enough."
Before I could respond, he turned and climbed into his carriage. Mirabel gave a soft wave as he departed, though his grin as he waved back was almost mocking.
No sooner had the wheels rolled away than Mirabel grabbed me by the collar. "What was that?"
I looked down at the crow and smiled faintly. "Something I'll definitely need."
The trinket bore the mark of the Silent Court, an organization whose influence reached every kingdom in the world.
They dealt in mysteries, cosmology, the unknown.
I had crossed paths with them before, in another life. They were fascinated by my condition, not the weakness itself, but what it revealed about the boundaries of being.
My illness separated me from my body. When I used mana, I became unshaped, undefined.
That state, between existence and dissolution, was exactly the kind of thing the Silent Court worshiped.
And now Griffin had given me their symbol, the mark of silence before revelation.
Perhaps it was a warning. Perhaps it was an invitation.
Either way, I intended to answer.
I turned toward the carriage I had prepared for us and offered Mirabel my hand. "Shall we?"
She eyed me suspiciously but accepted it. "Just what are you planning?"
I giggled, guiding her inside. "Nothing too dangerous."
[Nicholas was a troubling man. His plans often led to conflict.]
As I helped Mirabel into the carriage, I couldn't help but feel targeted.
My efforts have never betrayed me, so why subject myself to a life without them?
If it weren't for my laziness, I might have even sought out my old master. But that would have to wait.
Most of what I intended to do had to wait, partly because of my laziness, and partly because of this war.
The carriage began to move. Our destination lay just north of the capital.
That was where I planned to meet my assailants and provoke them into attacking me. I wanted to force out another aspect of my Regalia.
Since I was fairly certain they were part of the Silent Court, it also gave me a reason to investigate them.
Mirabel wasn't suspicious of the Golden Authority, but the Silent Court would be far easier to confront.
Even then, I had no intention of destroying the entire organization. There was someone within it I still needed to meet.
My eyes drifted toward the window as we passed a sparse collection of trees.
We moved through open plains now. I glanced back at Mirabel, who gave me a strange look.
"Would it not be easier to tell me your plans?" she asked, clearly annoyed.
I shrugged. "Promise not to question me?"
She gave me a long, hard stare, then sighed. "Fine, but I won't let you do anything I deem dangerous."
I scoffed. "You deem everything dangerous."
She reached out and squeezed my cheeks between her fingers. "Just tell me, damn it!"
I chuckled. "A little farther north, we'll be attacked. I need to fight them alone."
She leaned back and crossed her legs. "Why?"
Didn't she just agree not to ask questions? I sighed. "Growth. Experience. And most of all, I just want to."
In my past life, I had been traveling to see a doctor after my illness worsened. On the way there, we were attacked.
This was the same path we took, only a month early.
The only reason I suspected they'd be here ahead of time was simple.
The carriage suddenly rumbled. The driver screamed.
The war.
Fertical shouldn't have advanced this far, but I suspected they knew I would seek a skilled doctor.
That doctor lived in this dukedom. It wasn't surprising they had that information, especially with Malachi visiting me so often before I declared war.
Mirabel drew her sword and pressed a hand against my chest. "Poor man. Dead because of your games."
I laughed softly. "Don't worry. They won't kill anyone but me."
We stepped out together.
Snow drifted from the sky in a slow, steady rhythm. Silence blanketed the air.
Then, the soft crunch of snow beneath a footstep.
I felt it.
Their presence, enormous, pressing down like a wave ready to drown us.