Then the voice returned, calm yet commanding. "Back to explaining the quest," it said, as if it had never left. Leonardo, still grappling with the sage's cryptic words, tried to make sense of it all.
"The quest, as mentioned before, is an exploration quest. With exploration, you must gather tangible evidence of the place—objects of similar value and facts about the location.
These are likely your main objectives," the voice continued. Leonardo began to piece it together.
"Oh, I'm getting it now," he murmured. "You're really weird," Anna giggled, unable to suppress her amusement.
"His words were just jumbled up for some reason," Leonardo explained.
"This happened before, right?" Elara asked.
"Maybe," Leonardo replied, uncertainty lingering in his tone.
"He's just adding more objectives as time goes," Sir Eadric muttered, stomping his feet in frustration.
"Before this meeting ends, the children might have 300 objectives," the man wearing a chaperon chuckled, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Sometimes I forget—no, you seem to forget—that your son is also participating in this quest," Alphonse interjected, interlocking his hands as he rested them on the large table. "Oh, you do care," he laughed bitterly.
"Beaugois," the Marquis said, his voice laced with disdain. "You resemble nothing like your son, you know."
"He resembles his mother," Beaugois replied, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. "I'm not always home, you know. He's always with her."
"I'm not here for a sob story. Enough," Alphonse snapped.
"Ahaha, alright," Beaugois replied, the laughter masking the pain beneath.
Henri rested his elbow on the table, his face buried in his palm. "This is pure bullshit. It's obvious he wants us out of here," he muttered, causing everyone to turn towards him.
Though his words echoed the unspoken truth, many clung to the power and status that came with being among the 18 families, even if they were at the bottom of the pyramid.
Alain yawned from where he sat, seemingly indifferent to the tension in the room. His nonchalance caught the Marquis's attention, who was shocked to see him here after everything that had happened.
You'd think he'd try to hide after what he did, yet here he was, acting like the usual "him." At the sight of Alain, the Marquis's green eyes burned with anger, veins pulsing at his temples.
The other heirs around him instinctively moved away, sensing the storm brewing. Alain, noticing the shifting atmosphere, nearly gestured a wave at the Marquis. His guide, a shirtless man of Takashiro origins, stood nearby, clueless.
"What?" the Marquis muttered in pure disbelief as he stormed over to Alain. "Marqu—"
"Shut up, you little prick. You have some explaining to do," the Marquis snapped.
Leonardo, who had been standing near the Marquis, watched him leave abruptly to confront Alain.
"Ah, that guy again," he muttered, recalling the earlier encounter. "He was there when the explosion happened," he realized.
"Alain? He's really… unattached seems to be the best word," Elara added, her tone thoughtful.
"The quest doesn't have a set time limit. For all I care, it could take 200 years," the voice stated flatly.
Takashiro's monolids seemed to widen as he turned to his father, who hadn't noticed the relief washing over him. "Father lied?" he muttered under his breath, his dark hair swaying slightly as he stood by Wata.
"What'd I do?" Alain replied, feigning innocence.
"The explosion," the Marquis repeated, his voice tinged with growing frustration.
"And? It didn't affect me, did it?" Alain retorted flatly. "I really don't care for those people. Why should you?"
"What?" the Marquis's voice trembled with barely-contained anger. "People died, Alain.
"His hand inched toward Alain's neck, the tension escalating, before Alain's guide intervened.
"What are you doing?" the guide asked, his tone calm but firm. "It's okay. I genuinely have no idea why he's mad at me," Alain said, directing his words towards Itami (痛み).
"Ah, you know the Marquis and his temper," Itami chuckled, attempting to diffuse the situation.
"That's Siergured to you," the Marquis snapped.
"Oh?" Itami replied, his own anger simmering beneath the surface.
Takashiro gripped his sheet tightly, the veins in his wrist bulging as he struggled to contain his emotions.
Wata noticed this, concern etched on his face. "Takashiro?" he called out softly, wanting to reach out but hesitating.
"I know you're all itching for a fight!" an heir shouted, the anticipation in the room thickening. "That's Adad" Anna began, turning to Leonardo.
A boy clad in a robe of deep red, reminiscent of the Assyrians, stepped forward. His outfit was adorned with intricate patterns of black and gold, symbols of war and conquest.
His armor, though minimal, was designed for swift and ruthless attacks. His guide, in stark contrast, wore simple, tattered clothing, resembling a prisoner's garb—chains around his wrists and ankles, a reminder that his purpose was not to protect, but to contain the ferocity of the one he served.
"Shut up, you mutt," Takashiro muttered, his voice low and menacing.
"Oh, Taka…" the boy said, finally noticing him. He stopped mid-sentence, the tension between them palpable.
His guide, shocked by the sudden shift in demeanor, asked, "What happened?"
"I don't know. He just seems more stressed than usual," he replied, his dark brown dreads falling over his shoulders. "Oh," was all he could muster in response.
"Alain, we meet after this," the Marquis said abruptly, leaving the room with a determined stride.
"That's the Marquis for you," Alain sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement in his tone.
"The quest, if not completed, equals getting kicked out of the stem," the voice reminded them.
"He's saying that again…" Sir Eadric grumbled, then raised his voice. "Just get on with the rules already!"
"Sir Eadric Silver-Shield," a voice whispered, barely audible to anyone else.
"I find it funny that he hears us," Beaugois commented.
"He can't do anything unless there's ill intent. You know that," Alphonse added.
"Still funny to know," Beaugois chuckled.
"The heirs are fighting," Henri noted, having watched the escalating tensions.
Kokoro, who had shown little interest until now, raised his head slightly at the mention of the heirs fighting. "They seem to have stopped, though," Henri continued.
Kokoro searched the room for Ryuji, only to find him staring back intently. "That boy…" he muttered, something unsettling stirring within him.
Takashiro held his sheet close, his knuckles white with tension, as he drew his katana.
"Time for the rules," the voice announced. "I've included a gift as well, since many of the heads have complained that I've added too many objectives."
"A single unwritten skill."