Innello stood on his office's balcony. He quietly overlooked the city where he was born and raised. Reconstruction proceeded quickly with the resources and materials from Sarrasak. His finger impatiently tapped on the railing. There was still much work to do, and several annoying clowns to deal with.
A year had already passed since Daren's funeral. As promised for hosting the Sarrasak refugees and the federal government, the government assisted with rebuilding Halcyon and the investigation of that incident. Contrary to his hopes, nothing new was found. All the experts agreed. The space was so turbulent that the summoning must have gone horribly wrong. Well, all the experts except for one.
His ears perked up at a knock on the door. Innello closed the balcony door behind him as he entered his office.
"Enter."
Philip entered and gave a short bow.
"Lady Ramona Heston is here to see you, my lord. She said it was about an urgent matter and returned with the unit that she borrowed from the Halcyon family's forces. Shall I let her in?"
"Ah, yes. Escort her and the captain here. Let Becca know as well just in case in she wants to join. You are dismissed."
However, Philip didn't move. His movements paused unnaturally for a brief moment.
"… Is there something else, Philip?"
"Yes, my lord. It's… my son has returned with her."
Innello sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. Emotions roiled in his chest. The pain and sorrow of losing his nephew. The rage pointed at Chris for not protecting Daren. The joy of his vassals and citizens praising Daren for who he was, and not insulting him for being his parents' child. The disappointment and loathing towards both himself and his father for insisting that Daren join the war for mere recognition. The disgust for feeling any joy about his early death.
He had not seen Chris since the final battle started. Ever since Daren died, his relationship with Philip and several of the other vassal families has been strained. Even at the funeral, Philip and his family paid their respects on the second day. Innello had not seen Chris at all.
"My lord? Should I send him away?"
His aide's words brought him out of his thoughts. Logically, Innello knew that Chris wasn't at fault. War was unpredictable. Daren himself insisted. However, accepting that emotionally was a different matter. Innello took another deep breath. If anyone was responsible, the True Order carried the most blame.
"No. Send him in with Dean Heston."
"Understood, sir."
A few minutes later, his guests arrived. Chris stood silently behind Ramona and the guard captain.
"You're back. I assume that your trip went well."
Ramona grinned. "As well as it could sir. We learned some surprising things from Mr. Foryl. Once the captain and Chris loosened his mouth a bit."
Innello faintly glanced at Chris. The once bright, bubbly young man had a gloomy temperament now.
"And? The results?"
Ramona threw a stack of papers on his desk.
"Here's a report of his apprehension in detail. Federal agents took Foryl into custody after our… ahem, mildly uncomfortable chat. He was much more involved with information gathering and the mind control project rather than the summoning project. So, while we didn't get what we wanted, we did get something just as good. Captain, I'll give you the honors."
The captain happily took a map out of his bag and laid it out on the table.
"Foryl has intimate knowledge of several True Order bases. The military has taken over the raids, but in exchange, we will be provided access to all of the True Order's research on demonic summoning and spatial magic. More importantly, there's a good chance that the Prophet of Truth is hiding at one of those bases."
Innello finally smiled for the first time in ages. This news would do nicely. The Prophet of Truth would know something.
**********
[Remote northern wilderness, Chinebar Republic, Tellus, after Jerome Foryl's capture, date unknown]
Alarms blared as agents of all ranks ran around like swarms of angry bees. An unknown enemy had triggered their defenses outside. They would arrive in minutes. The security teams scrambled to prepare. None of them had expected any company.
No one should have known about this base. It was just a tiny outpost the True Order had recently reopened after their massive failure down south. The Prophet of Truth angrily crushed the cup in his hands as he relaxed on the bed. He hissed as pain from his old injuries flared up again and popped another painkiller into his mouth.
Just when the Prophet had restructured the True Order, all of their bases had been raided one by one. Aside from the military, someone else had targeted them. He never found out who. Fearing for his life, the Prophet had fled to this icebox in the furthest reaches of Chinebar.
The illusion of safety was abruptly shattered that night.
The Prophet of Truth realized that the mysterious enemy had shown its face. The military couldn't find this place so fast. The Prophet fell off his bed as explosions rocked the front of the base. Someone screamed that the doors had been blasted in from his communication artifact, then everything went silent.
No one responded to the Prophet's repeated calls. Sounds of battle drew closer. Worried yet determined to live, the Prophet carefully stuck his head out of the door. The halls were silent. He dragged his hurting body out of the medical center.
Skillfully dodging the sounds of battle, the Prophet crept through the base. The base had a secret survival bunker for emergencies. Few knew about it. He could easily survive until an investigative team arrived.
A sly grin spread across his face as he successfully slipped into a secret passage. His wide grin suddenly froze when he opened the last door. A hooded man was already there, waiting. A bloody odor filled the room. Several magical beast corpses were scattered down the long passageway.
"It's a very practical place. Very good for hiding for a long time. The guard dogs were a bit disappointing, though."
As the man turned to face him, the Prophet began to tremble. An indescribable pressure radiated from the stranger's eyes. He could feel the man's fury, yet his tone was light and teasing.
"Why don't you come in? I've been trying to find you for a while. It's very rude to keep me waiting."
A sudden force knocked the Prophet through the door and onto the floor. The door slammed shut behind him. The Prophet didn't dare to look any higher than the man's shoes as he approached.
"How pitiful. I expected better of the man who had been defrauding the movement for decades."
The man crouched down and grabbed the Prophet by the neck.
"I decided to come to visit in person after hearing about that travesty in Sarrasak. You've been hiding many secrets, Prophet. You keep using our resources, yet you lied instead of keeping your word. You've broken many taboos. Repeatedly."
Forced to look up, the Prophet saw an emblem of a phoenix surrounded by stars on the man's chest. The letters 'U.L.M.' were etched underneath.
"We've never met before, but I know you've heard about me. You should know who I am by now. And that I despise people breaking their promises to me. Now, I have many questions. For your sake, I hope that you have good answers."
**********
Tregario happily sipped his wine as the party continued around him. His pocket money was a bit tight these days. He had spent a fortune on this lavish party to celebrate becoming the Forolan heir apparent. Daren's assets should have been passed on to him, the only remaining heir.
For some reason, his parents and several of those stuffy patriarchs of the older vassal families were furious with him. They said the party was disrespectful to his deceased cousin. Tregario only sneered at them. Daren has been dead for over a year. Besides, he wasn't celebrating his cousin's death.
Not only did he never receive Daren's wealth, but his parents permanently cut his allowance in half. The party was nearly ruined. Fortunately, his sister had been spending more time at home lately. The servants in accounting had given her surplus funds to him like they always had.
At this party, he made plenty of new friends. Of course, he had lost several friends and the support of their families as well. For some reason, over half of his allies couldn't stand him befriending the Sarrakian upper class. Tregario couldn't understand. They praised his uncle for welcoming them but scolded him.
The wine seemed to sour just thinking about those idiots. None of them showed up to celebrate his success despite their years of friendship. Those hypocritical fools were just jealous and afraid of being replaced. When they came crying for forgiveness, Tregario would remember their treachery.
Now that he has secured some reliable allies, Tregario decided to build his funds. He couldn't stand his parents being in charge of his own money. The Sarrakians always seemed eager to sponsor him, but borrowing money from new friends just after meeting them was too tacky.
Next month wouldn't be too late to ask for help. He had enough to last until then.