The attendant in the room seemed like she couldn't take it anymore so she snuck away while me and Edward Iger were in the middle of our conversation.
"If this old noggin serves me right, there used to be a little town somewhere around here…made the finest grape wine and the juiciest tomatoes around"
The old man continued, his voice softer now, eyes distant—still searching the barren horizon for something he knew was long gone.
""Montepomaro...had a population of what, 500? maybe 1,000? Jaegers used to stop there often to resupply between trips. It was quite prosperous, all things considered—for a small farming town. Just prosperous enough to survive and also just unassuming enough that the Famiglias didn't think it was worth their attention. A veritable paradise, as far as Irkalla's concerned""
I joined him in remembrance, my gaze following the blur of desert rushing past the train window.
"It was the same for you, eh?"
He turned to me, a faint, knowing look in his eye.
""Yes. I quite enjoyed the treats they sold there...though I lament not being old enough to taste their wine...even now""
I confirmed with a nod, my voice as flat as ever, though I meant every word.
"What a shame. Would've been the experience of a lifetime..."
Despite the lingering animosity between us, he sympathized.
""Indeed... the only thing better than the treats and souvenirs you could get was probably the view. In the afternoons, when the sunlight crested the windy slopes, it almost made it seem like..."
I trailed off, trying to summon the details from memory.
"The hills were singing?"
He finished my thought without hesitation.
""...""
I was quiet for a beat before nodding again.
""Yes..."
I wondered if my monotone voice could ever convey the melancholy buried in those memories.
((I've done a lot of horrible things in my life. Truth is, I could probably do something worse than this destruction if the order came down...but to have so much culture, so many memories, so many lives in all their multitudes...erased in an instant, by unseen, distant forces that they had no business being involved with...it just leaves a bitter taste in one's mouth))
I thought, recalling the fate that had befallen this region.
((Then again, maybe it's hypocritical of me to think that. After all, I'm an instrument of one of those same unseen, distant forces…not to mention the one that had the biggest hand in all this. I am the LAST person that has a right to lament what has transpired here))
In the throes of those sentimental thoughts, the cruel touch of reality reasserted itself within my mind.
""I remember the day Grasmere's flame fell on this land…how the Fanoshians dropped the payload from their Regalia-class skyship. The initial blast turned everything in a 8 mile radius into glass. And the malignant inferno that came after—it didn't just burn. It hunted. It chased anything that moved, alive or not""
I spoke flatly, my voice as cold and steady as my face, not out of pride or indifference—just discipline.
Whatever little feelings I had on the matter, I wasn't about to show it.
""I survived by moving steathily, that and hiding in a cave for a month, living off of insects and condensation""
That was how I ended the story, turning to face him.
""What about you? Where were you...when the Fanoshians turned thousands into ash?"
The question came from a place of genuine curiosity, not accusation.
"…!!!"
His flinch said more than words ever could.
""Don't get me wrong—I'm not here to point fingers or pass judgement""
I raised my hands slightly, offering something that resembled reassurance.
""I just want to know, that's all""
After all, I had no claim to moral high ground, nor did I have any nationalistic grudge against Corvus like the rest of Irkalla. My loyalty wasn't to nations or flags—it was to the Executerii. That and also my refusal to judge other people's decisions without understanding the proper context behind them.
"Hmm...we were stationed on the Eastern Front. I managed to pull my corps out before the fire crossed over to our side of the battlefield"
He answered after a pause. His voice was steady, but his eyes—darkened with the weight of memory—betrayed more than he wanted me to see.
"We were still close enough to witness it, though. When the Valentian Council finally sent their mages to deal with the unquenchable flame...I saw it myself. The whole ritual—layers of casting, ancient incantations, and then…just like that, the fire vanished. Snuffed out like a candle"
He exhaled bitterly.
"Hehaha...if only they had performed that miracle a bit earlier. Maybe a few thousand more would've made it out"
The bitter chuckle he let out was quite telling.
""Don't blame them too harshly. The Council's sworn to neutrality. They only act when something threatens the safety of Valentia on as a whole""
I said, resting my chin in my hand with a sigh.
"Whatever you say"
He wasn't convinced, but he didn't argue the point either.
The Valentian Council served as a distant but ever-watchful presence over our continent or at the very least, the northern portions of it—comprised of delegates, archmagi, envoys from across the major powers and otherwise various masters of their respective fields. They didn't govern so much as they mediated, jumping in only when the scales threatened to tip beyond recovery.
((The Executerii likely had a hand in delaying the Council's response too. Normally, a weapon like Grasmere's flame wouldn't have made it past the drafting stage—let alone been unleashed on a live battlefield, especially one so ideal for testing. Divination exists for a reason. It's not perfect, especially in the details department, sure, but something as catastrophic as the deployment of Grasmere's flame should've triggered alarms somewhere, SOMEONE woud've seen it coming...))
The thought settled over me like a fresh layer of ash, making everything feel a little heavier.
((Grasmere's flame wasn't ordinary fire. It didn't just burn flammable material—it fed on pure Mana. It would've kept spreading even if there was nothing left to consume. Even in the vacuum of space, it would've endured. And the fact that it was semi-sentient, drawn to movement like a predator? It's no wonder the Council erased every trace of its creation from the collective memory after the Treaty of Virellenza...))
I reflected grimly.
((I had to cast [oblivion magic] over the entrance of the cave I was hiding in, just to keep it from creeping inside. Maintaining that veil of nonexistence for an entire month nearly broke me. In the end, the only way the council could stop it was to banish it from this world completely—to exile it to another dimension. Tragic as it was...it could've been so much worse if they didn't respond earlier or didn't respond at all))
All things considered, we were INCREDIBLY lucky it didn't end even more catastrophically than it did.
"Heh, I bet you would've loved it if we'd all died out there, huh? Probably spent your days praying for it while holed up in that cave,"
he said with a forced chuckle, the absence of humor in his voice making the words feel heavier than they should have.
""Please, you give me far too much credit. If I could kill with prayers, I'd have cornered the headhunter market by now""
I replied, matching his tone with my own brand of humor—dry, mirthless, but honest.
"Ha! True enough"
he conceded with a brief, crooked grin.
""And...""
I paused, choosing my next words with more care than usual.
""I don't make a habit of holding grudges against people who were just fighting the same war I was. It's a waste of time and energy. Time and energy I'd rather invest elsewhere—on things that actually matter now""
I explained myself, making no attempt to justify things, only make it clear where I stand on the matter.
""...""
"..."
Our eyes met and, for a fleeting moment, there was silence—an unspoken understanding that passed between us, brittle but sincere.
"Pfft... Hahahaha! I suppose that's also true,"
he laughed, this time with a trace of genuine amusement—before the weight of memory pulled it back down.
"But...I do wish the boys you killed had that "time" you speak of"
The levity drained from his face, and in the space left behind, sorrow crept in. Ghosts of fallen comrades flickered behind his eyes.
""...""
I had no words for that. There was nothing I could say that wouldn't ring hollow.
"I'll never forgive you for that"
He said quietly, but with unwavering clarity.
"But...I also agree—it's pointless to chase the ghosts and old war scores now, not when there's peace to be kept"
He turned back to the window, watching the wasteland roll by in silence.
""...""
I remained still, offering no response for a few moments while I collected my thoughts.
((Peace, huh...? Well...I sure hope it is))
The thought came to me like a whisper beneath the quiet.
((Though if it is...I wonder how long it'll last))
My thoughts drifted to the rising storm between the Mekhanites and the Scarlet Chorus. Deep down, I hoped, perhaps futilely, that it wouldn't spill over into the world at large, that what goes on within the Executerii might somehow stay isolated.
((...))
But if history had taught me anything, it was that conflicts like this never stayed contained for long. And, true to form, my wretched luck ensured I'd somehow ended up as one of the many unwitting sparks tossed into the powder keg that set it ablaze.
""I appreciate your understanding""
I gave a small bow, saying nothing more. There was nothing left for me to share—at least, not from my side.
"I wasn't done"
His voice was firm, resolute. Unlike me, it seemed he still had more to say.
""...Go on then""
I gestured with a hand, inviting him to speak his mind.
"The man who created the flame—Aldric Grasmere. Do you know why he made it in the first place?"
It was an unexpected question, one that pulled my attention back.
""From what I've gathered...it was supposed to be a renewable energy source?""
I scratched my chin thoughtfully, offering what knowledge I had—though I left it open-ended, hoping for correction or clarification.
"Heh...that's part of it. But the truth's a little more humble than that. He wanted to help the poor and downtrodden of Fanoshia. Give the people freezing in the slums of Londinium—his own people, really—a cheap, sustainable way to stay warm through winter"
There was a wistful glint in his eye, like he was speaking of a ghost no one else could see.
""...I see...""
My reply was subdued, but I listened closely, filing every word away.
"Tragic, isn't it? He just wanted to help. And now the world remembers him as the "Alchemist of Ruin"—the man who birthed one of the deadliest weapons ever used. Couldn't take the weight of it in the end. Took his own life a few years back. Guess the guilt finally caught up with him"
His tone tried for humor, but the sorrow underneath it was unmistakable.
""Forgive me for asking, but...is there a point to this story?""
I didn't mean it disrespectfully—I simply wanted to understand the reason behind the tale.
"The point is..."
He said, eyes locking with mine.
"That actions always have consequences. Even the ones made with the best intentions. And you? You're not exactly known for your nobility. You'd do well to keep that in mind"
He rose to his feet, the weight of his final words hanging in the air like smoke.
"Thanks for the chat. Later"
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving me behind in silence.
""...""
I just sat there, surrounded by the quiet, letting his words echo through the growing noise in my head.
The remainder of the journey toward imperial territory passed with a quiet sort of gravity. The weight of the earlier conversation still hung over me like lingering mist after a rainy night, but the world outside offered a different rhythm—one that gradually pulled my thoughts elsewhere. I leaned back into my seat and turned my gaze toward the window, watching as the train pressed forward with relentless purpose, carving through the final stretch of desolate desert.
Slowly—imperceptibly at first—the barren, sun-cracked earth began to soften. The harsh ochres and bleached sands yielded to rolling hills blanketed in vegetation that shimmered faintly in hues I didn't have names for. It was as though the land itself had been painted anew by a divine hand. The plant life here was unlike anything one would find beyond imperial borders: soft, iridescent fronds swayed in synchrony with the wind, catching glimmers of unseen light that danced across their surfaces like scattered starlight. The foliage didn't merely grow—it responded. Mana-infused, the flora glowed faintly in the train's wake, pulsating like a heartbeat in tune with our movement, as if acknowledging our arrival.
Rivers etched through the land like veins of living metal, their waters threaded with silver and gold that shimmered in the light. Occasionally, the terrain gave way to vast open skies where magical kite towers floated in the air like lighthouses suspended mid-heaven. These wonderous constructs spun slowly, emitting gentle pulses of light and arcane hums—guiding the great trade airships that drifted along their invisible aerial roads like massive, graceful whales in flight.
Above all of it, the sky transformed into a living canvas. A resplendent aurora borealis spilled across the firmament in waves of violet, emerald, and sapphire, chasing away the sterile blue-and-white expanse that had dominated our view in the desert. The light was alive, a fluid tapestry of color and rhythm, like music rendered visual.
((The Einheitlied…they must have sung it recently. Still as beautiful as ever...))
I sat forward slightly, my breath briefly caught in my throat as I tried to take in every detail. The Einheitlied—that impossibly intricate national anthem and living spell—was more than just a song. It was a collective manifestation of unity, identity, and purpose. Every living citizen of the Empire contributed to it, each province adding its voice over centuries, modifying, enriching, complicating. What had begun as a shared melody had become a labyrinthine incantation, impossibly long and impossibly beautiful. No single person could sing it all anymore—its entirety existed only in the aggregate of its people.
Last time I've been here, I hadn't been granted a chance to see it with my own eyes as the anthem is only sung on special occasions. But now? Now the sky itself bore witness to it, painting the heavens with its residual magic, as if the land remembered the harmony and refused to let it fade.
""It's like a whole new world...""
I muttered, barely audible even to myself.
((How did such a magnificent place remain untouched by the desolation we'd just left behind?))
I asked myself, it felt like crossing not just a border, but into another world altogether—one where only beauty existed without any stains or things moving behind the scenes.
""Haaa~ if only I could just…lose myself in all of this. Forever""
The words slipped from my lips like a sigh, carried away on the hum of the train and the low, steady rhythm of steel against steel. I let my head rest back against the cushion, allowing my gaze to linger one last time on the ever-shifting auroras above. That infinite sky, alive with color and motion, made me feel small again—insignificant, even.
But for once, that smallness didn't feel like the crushing weight of powerlessness. It was...comforting.
There was something beautiful in being just a speck beneath a world so grand and vibrant. For someone like me—always entrenched in duty and silence—the idea of disappearing into something bigger, of becoming part of a living painting or a verse in an eternal spell, felt like a kind of peace I hadn't known I was longing for.
((But some things are just impossible to reach...))
The thought arrived, inevitable and quiet, like the feeling of chains being wrapped around me.
Even here—surrounded by wonders—I couldn't escape my pragmatism. It whispered with the familiarity of a worn-out friend, always ready to drag me back down to earth.
Still, even if I couldn't vanish into the horizon, even if I couldn't abandon the burdens tied to my nature…surely no one would mind if I just rested for a little while.
""Still, I'm sure no one will mind if I just…take a small break""
My eyelids began to sink, the vibrant world outside growing hazy as the drowsiness finally began to overtake me. I hadn't slept in days—maybe weeks. The Maestro's errands, his endless little tasks, had kept me moving without pause. Every step, every breath, had been taken under the pressure of duty. But now…now the world felt serene and undeniably safe.
I leaned back hard into the seat, letting the weight in my limbs pull me down like gravity finally remembered I existed. My body ached in places I hadn't noticed before. Every muscle complained, every nerve relaxed.
((Just...one nap...a moment wouldn't hurt))
That's all I needed.
""*Snores*""
And as the train pressed deeper into the Empire—into that radiant world of impossible beauty—I drifted into the first real sleep I'd had in far too long, snoring lightly.
*Elsewhere, atop a windswept hill within the Empire's endless patchwork of plains...
"Kihehe~!"
The sound was manic and sharp, the sort of laugh that crawled under the skin. A lone figure sprawled casually across the tall grass, body reclined but eyes alert as they peered through the scope of a long-range monocular rifle. The device was trained on a distant train carving its way across the horizon, a mechanical leviathan cutting through beauty.
Steam billowed in rhythmic pulses from its engine as it neared one of the Empire's border stations.
"The intel was spot on"
The figure hissed under their breath, voice shrill with giddy anticipation.
"Corvus is making their stop before heading back to Fanoshia. Right on schedule"
With an almost lazy flick, the figure tapped a concealed comms orbment fastened beneath their jaw. A faint shimmer lit up under their skin as the magical conduit opened the line.
"Target confirmed. Train's en route, ETA: 17 minutes. We're on the mark"
A pause. Then came the reply—gravel-rough and cold.
"Good. The plan's in motion. Stay on them. Report again when the passengers leaves the border station"
There was a dark satisfaction in that voice, the kind that carried the weight of long-brewing tension.
"It's about time we clipped Corvus' wings"
The man on the other end added, a low chuckle curling through the connection like background noise.
"Kihehe..."
The observer snickered, twisting their neck in an unnaturally serpentine motion, eyes still glued to the scope.
"Sure thing, old man. Just so long as I get have my fill, I don't care"
With a tap, the connection was severed.
"..."
They lingered there for a moment longer, watching the glint of sunlight catch on the train's metallic exterior, the shimmer of aurora reflected on its windows. Then, without ceremony, they slipped back into the wild grass like a viper disappearing beneath the underbrush.
"Hassel will be a bash to remember…"
Their voice was almost a whisper this time—hungry, expectant—before they melted into the landscape, vanishing as if they'd never been there at all.
*Meanwhile…
"We have arrived at Hohenwald terminal. Welcome to the great Empire of Eidengrad. Please disembark in an orderly fashion and ensure your belongings are with you at all times"
The station announcement crackled over the speakers, jolting me from the warm fog of sleep.
""Ugh...""
My voice came out hoarse as I rubbed my eyes, smearing away the last traces of fatigue clinging to my lashes.
""Argh!""
I rose and stretched until my joints popped, arms extended overhead as I arched my back to shake the stiffness out of my body.
((It was brief...but I feel refreshed))
A small, pleasant surprise. I hadn't expected a nap that short to do anything, especially not after weeks of sleepless work for the Maestro. But for once, sleep had actually done what it was supposed to.
""Alright…back to the waking world, I suppose""
I muttered to myself, the comforting quiet of slumber now replaced by the cold clarity of purpose. My mind clicked into place like a loaded mechanism, zeroing in on the last task the Maestro had left for me.
""Hassel shouldn't be far from here. It lies near the Fanoshian border, close enough to walk if I want to avoid all the irritating customs procedures and magical scans""
I spoke mostly to myself, calculating the path ahead. I'd say it was a "relatively short trip," but that was by my standards—what would take me a few minutes on foot would be at least a 45 minute ride by train for your average traveler.
I gathered my things, already moving with the efficiency born from repetition and necessity. The moment my boots hit the polished floor of the station platform, the warm, arcane-tinged air of Eidengrad greeted me. I navigated through the station's processing offices, handing over my identification and clearance documents without a word.
Only after the border agents gave me the approving nod and stamped the necessary parchments did I take my first true step into the Empire—now officially within Eidengrad's borders.
Hassel was near now...