Maera

An odd silence stretched across the room, and one could almost hear a pin drop.

Jigimon squinted her eyes and puzzled at the salute for a brief moment before clapping her hands in a sudden realization.

"Oh! I get it now! It's a blend of ATAN's salute and that of the Seasult's Royal Navy! How inspiring!"

Wriggler peeked from behind Troan and then walked past them, looking sideways at Lurin for a moment, before glancing back at Troan.

"Not gonna lie, boss. Your sister's been quite the entertaining host during our stay here. So much preciousness in this one."

He said with a lopsided smile, before heading towards the table to drop off the pitcher.

As soon as he dropped the pitcher down Frozen lunged for it, but Valerie was quick to put it out of reach, even though it was empty.

Frozen folded her arms and pouted in annoyance.

Meanwhile, Lurin was all red from embarrassment.

'What am I even doing?! Now he's going to think I've gone daft! He won't pamper me! He won't heed my requests! He won't attend my wedding with Aldani, my imaginary misunderstood fiance!"

Her head tilted down, and a depressed aura surrounded her as she let out a dejected sigh.

At that moment, Troan moved.

Carefully, he took her raised right hand and slowly brought it down. Then with a gentle movement, he cupped her hand with his other hand.

"Lurin," he called affectionately.

She looked up at him with watery eyes.

"Back straight."

He instructed in a gentle tone.

She straightened her posture.

"Head held high."

She did so as if hypnotized by his voice.

A genuine smile grew on Troan's face as he looked upon her with a gentle gleam in his eyes.

His smile elicited a smile from her as well.

"There you are." His voice came soothingly. "That's the brave Seasult Princess I remember."

"Brother..." Her lips trembled, and she seemed just short of crying.

Troan took a deep breath and began hesitantly.

"I...know there is much to catch up on. But there are pressing matters that I must attend to. I promise to make the time to speak at length with you later."

Lurin's eyes widened and then she nodded.

"I—understand brother."

"Thank you, Lurin." He gratefully said, before bringing her hand up a little and bending down slightly to plant a kiss on it.

Lurin's expression was that of utter gladness.

Seeing this, he let go and turned around.

"Wriggler!" He called over his shoulder.

"Comin' boss! Let me just get one or two of these delectable-looking apples."

He said, picking up an apple before turning. Then he hesitated and turned around again to pick up two more, before running towards the doorway.

"Hey! Those were the last apples!"

Jigimon yelled, but then an apple came soaring toward her. She reached for it and caught it, fumbling a little.

"Ayy! Wriggler can be such a rogue sometimes." She nagged, before taking a bite.

Valerie looked at her, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion.

"But he is a rogue."

"So he says..." Jigimon smiled and shot her mysterious glance. But she didn't bother to elaborate further, instead focusing on her apple.

***

Davor, main dock—

In a dark basement, illuminated by a single candlestick lit on a table. A single large silhouette stood amidst a group of barely discernable figures.

"Brothers! The time has come! The Empress' lapdog Vitrus has passed away! His son, Kaydin, recently returned from Xagerios' Academy of Magic, having learned the ways of a foreign people and now seeks to rule over us!? Shall we suffer under one fool only to allow another take his place?!" The large figure asked in heated, gruff voice.

"No!"

"Never!"

The small crowd bristled and swayed under the dim light, their hands rising animatedly in defiance.

"Vitrus, in his folly, cast out an excellent progeny! A prince who could have led us to greatness! Returned our nation to its prosperous times! But now Vitrus is dead and the only one standing in Troan's path to the throne is Kaydin! What then shall we do?!"

"Kill him!"

"Away with his head!"

The outburst of the agitated crowd was full of malice and hate.

But then a voice from the crowd spoke. "Hasn't 'the Progidy's' claim to the throne been nullified? What happens when Kaydin dies and 'the Progidy' can't become king, Captain?"

The captain smiled and said. "That is no issue, friend. Once Kaydin is gone and we, the people, cry out for the true heir, the Household will realize that no royal declaration can overcome the veracity of bloodline!"

The reply was met with grunts and hums of affirmation from the crowd.

"But how shall we do this? The castle is now more secure than ever. A lot of soldiers from the Isle of Man have been moved over to the mainland."

The leader revealed a cunning smile.

"Worry not, brothers! I have trusted information that Kaydin plans to leave quickly before the sun rises tomorrow. Riding for the Var gate within the barracks. We shall lay out an ambush on the way there."

"An ambush?! On a royal escort you mean! We aren't strong enough to accomplish that!"

Another person exclaimed incredulously.

"Ordinarily, yes." The captain chuckled darkly. "But I was anonymously able to procure a pair of sea mines from my greedy admiral through the black market. We shall open our attack with those. The explosion will soften them up before we go for the kill."

"Ohh."

The crowd murmured in awe and anticipation.

"Go now!" The captain ordered. "Gather your weapons, but discreetly! And speak of this to no one! Remember lads, we're doing this for the better tomorrow."

They all nodded in affirmation, and soon filed out, leaving the captain alone in the dark room.

However, unbeknownst to the captain a pair of feline eyes opened behind him, just to his side.

Their saffron yellow pupils were excitedly aglow in the dark, and a toothy predatorial grin slowly grew on the face of the indiscernible figure.

***

Claimed lands: Grey zone on the southern border of Count Wheathel's lands—

In a dark chamber deep underground, a few figures sat around a large table.

The only source of lighting came from a large navaric mushroom, glowing at the table's center. Its luminous cap cast a pale red glow that barely made anyone there discernable.

"Where is Jakatar? More importantly—where is Geyser?"

Inquired a male figure with elongated ears. His voice possessed a deep and smooth timbre characterized by a thick, elvish accent.

"I am not accustomed to collaborating with individuals who struggle to adhere to schedules." He complained.

"She is at Fort Nighthowl, elf. Do not expect her for this meeting!" A large, furry humanoid figure with tiger ears replied testily, in a deep guttural voice.

"Her mission was to implant the frogmen's eggs into the port there, ensuring it is made inoperable for the foreseeable future."

The elf nodded and said. "This I know. If she was successful the frogmen would have matured now, and she would have returned. I know this because I procured those eggs for this obscene cult myself—regardless of my reservations."

His words held a certain resentment to them and an undertone of weariness.

"The creatures' growth rates are rapid, and among them was the matriarch's egg—I see no reason for her to be absent from this meeting if she had been successful, unless she failed to implant them. Meaning that my efforts were for naught, and that she is not as competent as you tend to tout, Nirian."

"Grrr!"

The Nirian growled, shifting forward and placing strong furry palms on the table, their claws extending out to catch the light.

"Hahaha!"

The third Individual laughed all of a sudden. From the voice it could be inferred that it was a woman.

Her crazed scarlet red eyes shone from beneath her black, hooded cloak, piercing through the dark to glance between them.

"I just thought of something... Knowing my daughter I believe she went to Davor."

"Davor?!" The Nirian exclaimed with shock, "What would she be doing there?!"

The cloaked figure grinned mysteriously.

"I heard an interesting rumor. It seems that The Seventh is currently at the capital."

This seemed to draw the elf's attention, so much so, that he shifted forward in his seat.

"Are you certain of this, witch?" He inquired, stormy grey eyes emiting an ominous, soft glow.

The witch tittered.

"No, but we scheduled this meeting today expecting my daughter to be done with that mission by now...

"Her absence indicates one of two things: One, she got captured—which is nigh inconceivable; two, she found her target. A prey she's been obsessed with for a long time, and given the information I received. It is likely the latter."

"Foolishness!" The Nirian banged her fist on the table, producing a light crack.

"She cannot attack him there! He is surrounded by allies! Not to mention the Witch Quee—"

"That!" The witch sharply interrupted. "...is why she will not attack him there. Geyser is smart, you see. All she needs to do is lure him into our hunting grounds."

The Nirian gasped. "Zanseth? But that would make our task significantly more dangerous!"

"No." The elf stated and smiled. "No, it would not. My whole purpose of being on this continent is to eliminate him. I tell you this. If he comes to the academy and I am able to engage him. I will kill him."

The Nirian scoffed.

"Arrogant. If you could do so why have you been sending assassins for years."

The elf let out a groan, caressing his forehead head.

"My powers are not to be used indiscriminately, it might bring down calamity upon your world."

Just as the Nirian was about to make a snarly reply, the deep, gravelly voice of an old man rang out across the room.

"Peace now, children."

Following this statement, a subtle tension lingered in the atmosphere as everyone turned to a silhouette at the south side of the table, seated away from everyone else.

The only details that could be gotten from him was the reflection of his bald head in the red lighting and his red robe.

Then the aged voice reverberated around in a slow, deliberate, almost foreboding manner.

"Jakatar seeks a revolution, we will aid him; Geyser and Silver crave the death of The Seventh, we will aid them; Nirians want House Age's downfall, we will aid..."

The voice went on, and the sense of his gaze passed through everyone before coming to a stop on the witch.

"I expect the favor to be returned, Maera..." The voice took on an ominous twist. "Just as we have aided you against Vitrus, you will aid us against Zanseth."