The Prelude (8)

The summer that followed the graduation ceremony was unusually sweltering.

Insects proliferated more rampantly than in recent years, and people lamented in mournful tones, anticipating a poor harvest.

Of course, compared to the imminent turmoil, these were mere tempests in a teacup. Yet people seemed intent on briefly escaping reality by indulging in such idle discourse.

“As for Eryne……”

“She departed safely, according to Freigha today.”

Gazing out the window at the bustling street below, Freugne spoke.

The abstract notion of “war” that had previously existed solely as a verbal concept was now viscerally manifesting.

Even for Freugne, who had witnessed visions of a burning Londinium and battlefield carnage, it evoked an unfamiliar sensation.

Had she not profoundly grasped the Demonic threat only after Edan’s injury?

Ultimately, humans were social creatures inevitably susceptible to emotional attachment. Freugne did not regard her years of friendship with Eryne as mere child’s play.

‘Safe travels.’

‘Yes, you too. Let us reunite in good health.’

‘I pray we can. And rest assured, I shan’t merely observe passively.’

‘I see…’

Ordinarily, friends would embrace, wave farewell with well-wishes, perhaps shedding a few tears at this juncture.

Instead, Freugne coolly arranged for Edan’s weapons to be dispatched to Eryne’s unit.

While the military remained among the most stringently regulated and insular institutions, rendering interference challenging, this was a time when locating the impossible proved more arduous than identifying possibilities.

Additionally, she had provided various wartime tips and potentially useful items, though their efficacy remained uncertain.

From this point onward, Freugne recognized that events had diverged from her influence. The war’s outcome fluctuated erratically, precluding any certainty regarding Eryne’s fate.

Thus, like Freigha, she could only hope for her safe return. And as Eryne, one further course of action remained available.

“Then let us proceed with formulating our strategy in earnest.”

“Indeed.”

With the war’s outlines emerging, it was time to meticulously design victory.

---

The legends surrounding the meetings convened by the preeminent organization – the gathering of its true powers – were renowned.

Not mere gossip peddled by conspiracy theorists, but narratives circulating among members themselves.

And the mere certainty of the organization’s existence implied their elevated stature – predominantly comprising council members or individuals of considerable social renown.

Some entrepreneurs speculated that these gatherings brazenly occurred within the parliamentary buildings during recess periods.

While appearing conspicuous, they reasoned that the inherent seclusion of restricted legislative premises facilitated secrecy.

Upon overhearing such claims, council members would scoff and retort that the entrepreneurs were more likely discreetly renting the finest venues within the city.

For a discussion devoid of concrete evidence or mediators could hardly reach a conclusive resolution. The existence of a city-governing conclave remained shrouded in mystery.

“Right here.”

“Here… seems rather familiar, doesn’t it?”

“Precisely why it has evaded detection.”

The darkest area lies beneath the lamp’s glow.

Or in this case, beneath the table upon which the lamp rested.

Not long after promising Edan full disclosure in Antrim,

Freugne led him to the underground chamber of the orphanage upon their return to Londinium.

The space, originally a mere storage area, had been expanded into a vast subterranean cavern.

As Edan surveyed the surroundings, his expression cycled through astonishment, disbelief, and finally, realization.

The realization, of course, that Freugne’s oblique inquiry about modifying her family register had not been mere rhetoric.

“Ah, hello there!”

“Long time no see.”

“……?”

And there were faces he did not expect to encounter.

Even for Edan, memorizing every child’s visage from the orphanage was improbable.

However, during his occasional visits for volunteer work or facility inspections, certain countenances grew familiar through repeated exposure – a vague sense of “I’ve seen them before.”

Ulr fell into this category.

And beside him, Sif added in an awkward tone:

“You’re… Freugne’s friend, aren’t you?”

“Well, not an inaccurate statement, as we remain friends on a personal level.”

“Yes, yes! Precisely!”

Edan distinctly recalled her knocking on Freugne’s door, evidently seeking her company.

He had presumed they were merely socializing, unaware of her efforts to join the shadow cabal.

The dissonance between his perceptions and reality left him disoriented, consumed by bewilderment.

Yet his credentials as a Royal Academy member were not entirely nominal, enabling him to eventually regain his composure and thereafter attend these meetings regularly.

And today was no exception.

Individuals who should have been preoccupied with movies or romance instead broached the city’s most pivotal subject.

“I presume all senior officers are aware of the Dark Lord’s army’s projected offensive timing?”

“Indeed. However, if this decision leaks to the Demonic side, the date may change.”

“It matters not. At most, it would merely alter by a day or two… The Dark Lord is undoubtedly formulating strategies under the assumption I have foreseen every contingency.”

“The supplies have safely arrived at Eryne’s unit! Now we need only ensure no intermediaries attempt any misappropriation.”

“That should not pose significant difficulties. Uncle, do you have any relevant insights to share?”

Freugne turned towards Edan.

A day or two of disorientation paled in comparison to the challenge of remaining oblivious amidst the torrent of Londinium’s intelligence.

Edan nodded and began to speak:

“I’ve conducted some personal investigations into the Dark Lord.”

---

Over the past few months,

I have sought out any available information regarding the Dark Lord.

Not just the current iteration, but Dark Lords of ages past as well.

Since they fell under the same broad categorization, I hypothesized parallels might prove insightful. Even if not, no harm would be done.

Naturally, scant details were known about the present Dark Lord. None could even discern their name, with subordinates merely referring to them as “the Lord.”

Yet I possessed a valuable resource unavailable to Freugne:

“I approached the Royal Academy members who had conducted any research, no matter how cursory, and inquired.”

“Oh, were they forthcoming with information?”

“Yes. While some were initially reluctant, the impending war rendered them more amenable to disclosure.”

Academic connections within the scholarly realm.

While Freugne’s intelligence-gathering prowess was virtually unmatched in the present, she remained comparatively disadvantaged regarding historical information.

This era predated digitized knowledge accessible with a few computer clicks. Research findings and materials often remained unpublished, hoarded by their authors.

The advantage lay in the inherent credibility – these were individuals for whom research constituted a minimum qualification.

Of course, delving into history did not invariably yield quality insights. The Demonic Tribe remained an inherently insular collective.

“From the cases documented thus far, there have been dozens of Dark Lords, each consistently antagonistic towards humanity. Even during seemingly peaceful interludes, they would reignite conflict – much like the present circumstances.”

“I wonder if there is some underlying rationale? Some form of human resentment or complex, perhaps?”

“My hypothesis is that it devolved into a cycle of perpetuated hatred at some juncture.”

“Currently, perhaps. Yet I’ve heard there were numerous opportunities to conclusively resolve this conflict.”

Yet the periodic, quasi-cyclical nature of these invasions remained noteworthy.

And lingering uncertainties persisted:

If one possesses certain capabilities, would they not inevitably employ them?

Like myself, if provided an answer key, I would undoubtedly consult it.

Yet since the Antrim incident, there had been no indications of the Dark Lord accessing Freugne’s memories. Precautionary examinations yielded nothing as well.

While hypotheses existed about remotely skimming memories without leaving traces, had such an ability been feasible, I would have simply contemplated decapitating the Dark Lord instead of waging war.

Excluding this possibility, two assumptions could be made:

One, the Dark Lord is the type to conserve their trump cards until the direst necessity.

Two, due to some condition, limitation, or factor we have yet to discern, they are unable to employ such abilities.

And my inclination leaned towards the latter hypothesis.

“The latter does seem more plausible.”

“If no such constraints existed, they would have likely bombarded us with that power, even attempting to compel our surrender. I concur with that assessment.”

“Hmm……”

“And I did uncover records of such mind-controlling magic being utilized – specifically, to access the memories of fellow Demonic tribesmen during the subjugation process. So there is no inherent reason it could not function on humans as well.”

I handed Freugne a dossier neatly compiling the relevant information, adding:

“Yet they have only accessed memories once thus far. So it may be premature to draw any definitive conclusions.”

“…No.”

After perusing the document intently, Freugne responded:

“It seems to have occurred more than once.”