"My Lord…"
Rodrick entered the room after knocking, only to find Medici sitting in a chair with his legs propped up on the table. He was reading through offers from various clans while lazily chewing on an apple, looking utterly bored.
"What is it, Rodrick... or should I call you Slasher?" Medici asked with a smile, one eyebrow lifting in mild surprise. He was taken aback that his subordinate received a true name… but perhaps it was fitting.
After all, Rodrick had fought long and hard across the Forgotten Shore: first the Labyrinth, then the Dark City, then the Bright Castle, and finally the siege of the Crimson Spire.
Rodrick hesitated, clearly uneasy about broaching the subject but curiosity and concern ultimately won out. Straightening his posture, he decided to speak without dancing around it.
"May I ask… what exactly happened between you and Lady Luna? Why did you fight her?"
Medici put the papers down, his expression turning faintly amused as a small smile tugged at his lips.
"Nothing much," he said casually. "Just rage-baiting my dearest friend."
"Pardon?" Rodrick blinked, dumbfounded. He knew what rage-baiting meant, Amon had taught him that term. But that only made it more confusing. Why would Medici deliberately provoke her?
Medici stood, picked up a bottle of wine, and poured it into a glass. He watched the liquid swirl before taking a slow sip.
"There's a reason for everything," he said quietly.
Rodrick only grew more confused, and angrier. He was loyal to Medici, yes, but that didn't mean blind obedience. Not when Luna was his friend… and Amon, too.
Many people who rise in power forget those left behind, but Amon wasn't like that. He didn't care about power, he just wanted to live freely, to laugh and to have fun. That was why Rodrick liked him. He was a genuine friend.
And yet Medici had left him to die.
"Is it true?" Rodrick's voice shook. "That you left Amon behind because of Ben? You know it wasn't his fault. He did everything to save as many people as possible, so why!? I don't understand, why would you do that!?"
Medici's smile faded, replaced by something colder. He shook his head slowly.
"It wasn't because of Ben."
"Then what-"
Rodrick stopped. Not because Medici interrupted him but because of his gaze, sharp, crimson, and burning with restrained anger.
"Stop making assumptions," Medici said, his voice low and heavy. "I like that you care for my friend, that you think for yourself instead of following orders blindly. A man should make his own choices, let his will and conscience guide his path."
He took another slow sip of wine, then looked directly at Rodrick.
"But don't ever dare to say that I left my friend to die. Do you understand?"
Rodrick's body trembled as the temperature in the room rose. The wine in Medici's glass began to vaporize into steam, and the flowers resting near the window started to dry up and curl inward.
Rodrick clenched his fists, his expression growing stubborn and fierce. But before he could speak again, everything suddenly returned to normal. The air cooled, and Medici spoke once more, his tone calm and measured.
"I was angry, yes…" he admitted softly. "Sadly, that's my flaw. But that doesn't mean I'd ever leave one of my own behind. Besides, Amon stayed in the Forgotten Shore for a reason. He never told me what it was, but I know my best friend better than anyone."
He smirked faintly. "There's definitely something shiny there that caught his eye... Something he'd want to steal. He'd never let himself end up in a hopeless situation. So have some faith in him. He'll come back."
Rodrick blinked, his body relaxing at his lord's words, though confusion still clouded his expression.
"But… wait. If you never intended to leave him behind, and if you trust him to return… why lie to Luna? That doesn't make sense."
Medici grinned, amusement flickering in his crimson eyes as he sank back into his chair.
"As I've said, there's a reason for everything. Amon would only stay behind to steal something of great value. I don't know what it is, but it must be something so outrageous that it would shake the entire world if revealed.
"As for why I lied to Luna…" his tone darkened slightly. "Let's just say I don't trust the Song Clan."
That's right… I don't trust the Queen of Worms, Medici thought grimly. That's why I provoked and fought Luna. And after that, I made sure rumors spread that I intend to join the Valor Clan. It's all to make it seem as though Luna and I went our separate ways, so Ki Song can't use her as leverage to force me into her clan.
Medici was certain that Ki Song had Awakened individuals capable of seeing through lies if Luna were ever questioned. And then there was the Death Singer, Hel. He was wary of that girl as well.
Both Valor and Song were growing increasingly desperate to recruit him, pressing harder each day, even though all he wanted was to remain independent. Deceiving Luna had been the best way to keep her safe, and to buy himself some time. Time to gather information, analyze it, and make a proper decision. But he knew it was only a temporary solution.
Ki Song might hold back for now… but Valor wouldn't. Their influence and power already weighed on him like a mountain. They would try to force him into their ranks, especially after he had spread those rumors to divert the Queen's attention.
That meant only one thing, he would have to make a choice, and soon, if he wanted to survive this precarious situation.
Medici's expression turned grim as he sighed, leaning back in his chair. His eyes showed clear signs of exhaustion, yet they still burned with fierce determination.
"Call the Soul Reaper," he said quietly. "I've made my decision."
"You mean…" Rodrick blinked, a bit surprised by the command. So, the government it is... He nodded. "I understand." With that, he left Medici alone.
Medici looked down and exhaled deeply. He needed to digest the Conspirer… and what better way to do that than by using the great clans themselves? If his theory was correct, once this entire ordeal was over, he would have completely absorbed it.
There was also the matter of preparing for the Reaper's ritual. What a pain in the ass… he thought tiredly.
He wasn't exactly thrilled about using Luna for his own benefit, but it was the fastest and most believable path forward. If she ever learned his true plan, Ki Song would find out soon after… and then he'd be finished.
That was why it was better to keep Luna in the dark. Her emotions and anger had to be genuine, not fabricated. So he pushed her carefully. Provocation, Incitement, confusion, deception, misdirection… all of it crafted to make Luna's already unstable mind even more volatile, more murderous, more bloodthirsty.
The key to any conspiracy lay in concealing one's true motives, and Medici's motives were buried deep. He had to protect Amon and secure his own standing, so that when Amon eventually returned, he wouldn't be crushed beneath the weight of the clans' ambitions.
Medici knew his friend well. Amon would never bow to anyone; he would rather go rogue than serve. But if Medici aligned himself with either Song or Valor, that 'fragile' balance would shatter. The opposing clan would 'inevitably' move to claim Amon and his cohort by any means necessary… and their so-called "justice" would be nothing more than an excuse to enslave them under the guise of punishment for their crimes.
Usually, no one would have done anything to them. In the Dream Realm, Awakeneds often fought each other and many died. But this time the Great Clans had instigated the conflict. For some reason, the Sleepers were hellbent on destroying Amon and his cohort. Strange rumors about Medici had begun to spread too, painting him as some kind of tyrant.
Medici's mouth curled as he approached the window and watched Awakened Rock and Jacob greeting a peculiar old man outside. Rock was composed and respectful but Mr. Jacob didn't seem to care. He smoked, staring at the sky with an absent look.
Though, that wasn't what worried Medici. It was the old man himself: Saint Jest. He was the bastard who had manipulated the emotions of the Forgotten Shore survivors and the families of the dead Sleepers. He'd created this mess. That wretched geezer… one day I'm going to burn you alive, Medici thought darkly as Jest looked up, smiled at him in a comical way, and doffed his hat in greeting.
Medici cursed inwardly, drew the curtains over the window, and took a seat.
He couldn't rely on brute force to solve everything. A Conspirer's strength lay not in raw power but in intellect, in foresight and deception. He needed to navigate this situation with his mind, not his fists.
And above all, the foundation of any conspiracy is information. A skilled Conspirer must exploit gaps in information, and even create them deliberately.
That was exactly what Medici had done. By deceiving Luna, he fed the Song Clan false information about his intentions. Everyone now believed he planned to join the Valor Clan which, of course, wasn't true. It was merely a distraction, a way to buy time and decide which road forward was best to walk.
Now… it was time to finish this.
Sure, none of this elaborate scheming was strictly necessary. He could have simply joined either Valor or Song. But Medici despised the idea of kneeling. He refused to be anyone's pawn. And besides, this chaos, this delicate web of deceit, it was the perfect opportunity to truly grasp the essence of the Conspirer.
As Medici was contemplating his future, a knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts, followed by Rodrick's voice.
"My lord… may I?"
Medici sighed, glancing at the scattered papers and his communicator with a bleak look. Well, I thought being a leader would be fun and all… but shit, this is hell. He missed the old days, fooling around with Amon and Luna. Things were…
Then his expression shifted. Wait a second, ahh… I'm screwed. How was he going to explain all this to Luna? Amon would most likely laugh, but… yeah, that girl would definitely kill him. I'm sorry, barbarian girl… it has to be done.
He'd wanted demonesses, too but… fuck. Life was cruel.
"Yes, you may," he said calmly.
Rodrick opened the door softly and gestured for someone behind him to enter.
Soul Reaper stepped into the room, a woman so unsettling that the air itself seemed to cool around her. Her skin was pale, almost corpse-like, and her eyes were the same shade of blue as Luna's but while Luna's gaze was soft and vaguely unnerving, like drifting in a deep ocean with no escape, Soul Reaper's were cold, sharp, and merciless.
She had short, lustrous black hair, stood at an average height, and her features were refined and eerily serene. Yet a chilling aura surrounded her, making it feel as though everything she touched began to freeze. Even as a Master, Jet was terrifying, and her title, Soul Reaper, was well-earned, for she literally tore souls apart, ignoring all physical defenses.
Medici, without saying a word, gestured for her to take a seat. His expression was composed and neutral. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and tie, his crimson hair shorter now, shoulder-length and slicked back neatly.
"Welcome… Madam Jet."
Jet raised an eyebrow at his polite tone, a faint chuckle slipping past her lips as she sat down.
Meanwhile, Medici grimaced inwardly. Amon… why does everything have to be so damn formal and polite? What a pain in the ass. Though… I guess I can manage. I can farm this. I can do it… aura is mine! Shit, focus. I'm not a kid anymore… he paused. Eh, wish I was… Okay, that's enough.
A faint smile appeared on Medici's face at that thought. Giving a calm nod to Jet, he straightened his posture and composed himself, ready to begin speaking, but before he could, he felt another presence.
This one was heavier, older and far more devastating.
Wake of Ruins…? Medici thought in wariness as the older man stepped into the room.
He was tall and gaunt, perhaps in his late fifties. Though his skin showed the wear of age, his hair remained perfectly black, like the feathers of a raven. The Saint's sharp features, piercing gaze, and stern demeanor spoke of a man long accustomed to wielding power… and bearing the weight of it.
Without a word, he approached Medici. Every part of him: his posture, expression, even the way he breathed radiated the authority of a Saint who led the government itself.
Medici felt his discomfort deepen. As if Soul Reaper wasn't enough… damn it. Cursing inwardly, he forced a smile and stood, extending his hand in greeting.
Saint Cor raised an eyebrow at the gesture. Most would bow upon meeting him, not merely out of respect for his title, authority, or fame, but because of the suffocating presence that all Saints carried.
Of course, not all Saints were alike. Some carried an aura of calm, others of vigor and so on. But Cor's presence was different, dreadfully different.
What Medici felt was the battlefield. The air seemed to grow heavier, darker. He could almost see the corpses of beasts piled high, smell the stench of blood and decay. It was as if the world around him had fallen silent, save for the sound of ravens tearing into the flesh of the dead.
Still… he refused to bow his head.
Cor's lips curved faintly, amused by Medici's stubbornness. He took the offered hand and shook it firmly before sitting down, gesturing for Medici to do the same. Jn an instant, it felt as though the room had shifted, Medici wasn't the host anymore. He was the visitor.
"Now that we're gathered," Cor said, his voice calm but cold, "what is it that you wish to discuss with us, Awakened Blood Son of Heaven?"
Medici shifted slightly in his chair, but he recovered quickly, drawing a steady breath before meeting the Saint's eyes.
"I think we can come to an agreement, Saint Cor," he said evenly. "A deal, you might call it."
Jet's brows furrowed. Suspicion flickered in her icy eyes as she turned to Cor, who remained silent. The faint exchange between them spoke volumes, there was history there, and Jet clearly respected the older man's judgment.
"…A deal, hm?" Cor finally said, voice rumbling low. "I believe I understand your meaning, my boy. You wish to escape the influence of the great clans… and you want my protection."
Medici's mouth twitched. Being read so easily was irritating, though not unexpected. Simply summoning them here had already revealed his intentions, but at least the meeting's secrecy ensured the Song and Valor clans wouldn't catch wind of it.
"Precisely," Medici admitted. "But this deal won't benefit only me. Let's call it… an equivalent exchange."
Jet leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a tired sigh. "You really are from the Outskirts?" she asked, her tone dry. "Forgive my doubts, but it's hard to believe. You, Sunless, Luna, and that boy... Amon. Four prodigies from the slums... It's unbelievable thing to hear..."
Medici didn't answer right away. He gestured lazily, and Rodrick stepped forward to pour clear vodka into their glasses. Medici lifted his, watching the light shimmer across the surface of the liquid before a faint, nostalgic smile touched his lips.
"My friend loves this drink," he said softly. "A bit strong for most, but I'm sure people of your… constitution will find it exquisite."
The conversation shifted instantly. Jet blinked, caught off guard by the change in tone, while Cor's piercing gaze never left Medici's face.
A low growl escaped Cor. "No need to dance around it. Speak your mind."
He downed his glass in one move. Jet followed. Both of them instantly began coughing, eyes watering as if the liquid had set their throats aflame.
Medici raised his own glass, then yanked his hand back and set it down within seconds. Rodrick, standing behind him, took out handkerchief and wiped vodka from his face with an unimpressed look.
Medici only smiled and inclined his head. "Indeed. I want to avoid both sides. I'm not joining the Valor Clan, as you already suspect, that was a diversion to buy time and preserve the balance. My request is simple: grant me access to the government's citadel in the Dream Realm, and give my legion protection. In return, I will fight the Abominations spilling from the gates and do my part to ensure civilian safety… as all Awakeneds should. It is our duty, after all…"
Jet's smile turned chilly as she crossed her legs, amused. Cor studied Medici a long moment, then finally looked up.
"You want more than that, don't you? What's your last condition?"
Medici's smile widened, he leaned back and steepled his fingers. "I want freedom of movement and command over my legion. My people will remain under me, and they will enjoy the benefits government agents receive. I've prepared a contract, take a look."
The request felt provocatively confident: arrogance, that poisonous alcohol, now a stack of terms. Still, Medici knew his worth.
Cor took the contract and read. Minutes passed and he sighed when he finished, the terms were reasonable.
But something prickled at him. He wasn't supposed to be the one accepting a contract written by an Awakened. He was supposed to be the one offering it. He narrowed his eyes as Medici's innocent smile remained. This little punk…
At last, Cor spoke. "Fine. I agree. But if you violate these terms, you will die."
"Do not worry," Medici replied smoothly. "I do not leave unfinished business."
***
[A/N: I know, I know. my schedule's a mess. And I won't be able to write for a few days, since on the 26th it's my birthday, and I fully intend to get wasted. Been a while since I got drunk, heh. Anyway, we finally learned what Medici's true intentions were.
I told you it wasn't going to be simple, and here it is. Honestly, this chapter was harder to write than any fight scene I've done before. And, Medici's IQ definitely leveled up now that he's become a proper conspirator, lol.
That's it for today, guys. Enjoy the meal.]
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