Marquis stepped off the train and immediately noticed the platform was swarming with guards.
The usual crowd of travelers seemed tense, the air thick with unease. Marquis's frown deepened as he took in the scene.
"They've already increased security?" he murmured, his blue hair shifting slightly with each step.
As he led the survivors away from the train, a figure in a distinct red uniform approached him.
Marquis recognized Sergeant Frederick, a man with a clean-shaven face that betrayed the tension he was trying to mask. Despite the strain in his eyes, Frederick offered a brief smile.
"Ah, Sergeant Frederick," Marquis greeted him, bowing slightly. The presence of so many guards made his own unease grow.
Frederick returned the bow, his hands twitching slightly as if struggling to maintain his composure.
"Marquis, we heard about the explosion," he said, his voice flat but respectful.
Marquis glanced around, noting the extra security. "I see…"
"Yes, I see the unusual number of guards," Marquis replies, still shocked at how quickly the news spread. "We need your help—" Frederick begins, but Marquis cuts him off.
"It has something to do with robes, white robes specifically," Marquis states bluntly.
"White robes?" Frederick repeats, confusion evident in his voice.
"I don't know much else. I sent my guide to investigate," Marquis admits.
"Oh, okay, sir," Frederick responds, clearly unsettled by the ambiguity.
As Marquis continued to guide the survivors, he felt a small tug on his sleeve.
He looked down to see a young girl, her eyes wide and glistening with tears. "Thank you, uncle," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Marquis blinked, taken aback. "Oh, I'm not—" He hesitated, noticing the fragile hope in her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" he asked gently, trying to steer the conversation away from her mistaken assumption.
The girl's lower lip began to quiver. "My older brother… he…" Her words dissolved into sobs, her small frame shaking as the weight of her grief overwhelmed her.
Marquis, still just a child himself, felt a knot form in his stomach. "I'm… sorry," he said awkwardly, unsure how to comfort her.
He had never lost anyone close, and the depth of her pain was beyond his understanding. His attempt at sympathy only made him feel more helpless.
Noticing Marquis's growing discomfort, Sergeant Frederick stepped forward. "Don't worry, sir, I'll handle this," he said gently, kneeling down to the girl's level. He took her hand and began guiding her towards a nearby medic, offering her the comfort that Marquis couldn't.
taking the girl gently by the hand and leading her towards a medic on the other side of the skyway hub.
The area, usually a clearing where the train lands, is now filled with more guards and medics than ever before.
Marquis clenches his hand into a fist. Like Anna, this is his first time outside, barring the unofficial visits his father arranged when he was a mere child, not much older than the girl before him.
He walks away from the clearing towards another area.
[Back at the top of the tower]
The room at the top of the tower buzzed with the low murmur of conversation. Heads of various families had gathered, the weight of the upcoming decisions pressing heavily on everyone present. The atmosphere was tense, almost suffocating.
Alphonse paced near a large window, his hands clasped behind his back. Every few seconds, his eyes darted anxiously to the entrance.
"Where is Marquis?" he finally demanded, his voice tight with worry. He had heard about the explosion long before his son arrived, but Anna and Elara, who entered the tower hours after him, were already here. Marquis, however, was not.
"Calm down, Alphonse," Henri, Anna's father, said, trying to soothe him. But the way things were going, Henri feared Alphonse might lose his composure entirely.
Alphonse turned slowly to Henri, his face a mask of barely contained panic. "No, Henri, my only son is missing at a meeting that holds our entire future at stake," he said, his voice rising with anger.
Most of the others in the room paid little heed to his outburst, focused on their own concerns.
The meeting room, usually a place of cold calculation, now felt like a pressure cooker, ready to explode at any moment.
Alphonse's anxiety only added to the palpable tension.
"The meeting should start soon. It seems I'll soon be busy," a mysterious voice whispers, a stark contrast to the earlier destructive tone. This one feels like a whisper directly behind their ears.
"He should be here soon," Leonardo says, catching Henri's attention. Henri, eager to see the person his daughters chose as their heir, feels his interest piqued. Has this boy really got the confidence to speak out in a meeting of the heads? He must be strong, Henri thinks.
"How sure are you?" Alphonse asks, his anger still simmering, though faint hope glimmers at the edge of his voice.
"I saw him off on the train. He left with a dark-cloaked man—" Leonardo begins, but Alphonse is interrupted by the sudden opening of the door.
"Marquis..." Takashiro mutters slightly, wishing the fool wouldn't show up altogether. It seems the more you wish for something, the less likely it is to happen.
Marquis appears in the hall, walking slowly towards where his father stands. He catches Leonardo's eye. "Dad, and... uh, Leonardo?" he says, puzzled.
"Told you he would be 'fashionably late,'" Anna quips, using air quotes as she stands a few feet away.
"You're right," Elara replies.
"The only cute thing here is Leonardo," Anna says, casting a teasing glance at her sister.
" you're right!, he's so cute and small," Elara agrees. That might be the only reason they chose Leonardo. They walk towards their father, leaving Leonardo behind with Marquis.
Takashiro watched as marquis walked over to his father and the guide of the other girls, "Leonardo.." , his mono-lid eyes gleaming with a sharpness that made his father uneasy. Takashiro had grown so quickly, his height and strength nearly surpassing his father's. His father couldn't shake the feeling that something dark was festering within his son.
"What is this meeting for again, Father?" Takashiro asked, his tone cold and almost emotionless.
There was a seriousness in his voice that sent a chill down kokoro's spine. Sometimes, kokoro couldn't help but think, I wish I didn't have to deal with this. His mind strayed to the darker side of his fears.
"To start the quest," kokoro replied, his voice unsteady. He knew his son was a prodigy, he had hoped it was just a phase, something that would pass, but Takashiro had taken it too far.
"How long do you think it will take?" Takashiro asked again, his eyes glinting with a strange light that made his heart race.
"Two to three years at best," Kokoro answered, his voice almost a whisper now. He kills for fun. What have I created?
"Oh, that's better. I thought it would be six," Takashiro said, his voice carrying an unsettling mix of relief and excitement.
As Takashiro walked away, his father felt a knot of dread tightening in his chest.
He glanced around the room, noting the tense expressions on the faces of the other attendees.
The weight of what was to come pressed down on everyone present, the air thick with anticipation.
Just as he was about to speak, a voice rang out from the front of the room.
"Let the meeting commence," the sage of the stem announced, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
The murmur of conversation ceased immediately, and all eyes turned towards the center of the room.
The meeting that would determine the fate of many was about to begin.