I couldn't help but think back to the lessons from training with Saint and Effie. Fighting was brutal, exhausting, and dangerous, but at least it was immediate—either you succeeded or you failed in the moment. This… this was slow, calculated, methodical. A different battlefield entirely, but no less deadly if mishandled.
And yet, I couldn't help but admire Kido. She carried herself with a confidence that made every figure she recited and every observation she made feel like a weapon in its own right. In her hands, even statistics became a form of power, a subtle way to manipulate outcomes before the first sword was ever drawn.
And suddenly, I felt like a bit of a fool.
Seishan was the next to speak, sitting up higher in her chair, her melodious voice coming from parted lips. It cut through the quiet hum of the meeting, calm and deliberate, each word measured, carrying an authority that seemed to make the very air hold still. She began cross-referencing the reports from her Handmaidens with Kido's numbers, comparing the production data to the stockpiles and pointing out where distribution had been inefficient or where reserves could be stretched further. Her observations were sharp, precise, and utterly meticulous—the kind of precision that could make or break a settlement if acted upon correctly.
I tried to follow along, I really did. My eyes tracked her lips, my mind nodded at the correct intervals, and yet… my attention was slipping, sliding away like water seeping through cracks in stone. It was an amazing trick, really, considering I was standing right beside Gunlaug, the man whose very body was coverd by a Transcendent Echo, radiating the kind of power that made the hairs on my arms stand at attention. How could my mind wander now? How could I allow myself to drift while the Host—the Bright Lord, his Lieutenants, even Harus's hollow stare—observed?
And yet it did.
I felt myself being pulled backwards, carried by memory like a tide over jagged rocks. The sensation wasn't painful, just inevitable, like standing on the edge of a cliff and letting the wind take you. My vision blurred slightly at the edges as the present faded, replaced by echoes of a day that was burned into me with fire and shadow. The day Sasrir had killed Tessai.
Weeks ago, or maybe it felt like months—time had compressed since then—Sasrir had moved with that terrifying calm. Every motion deliberate, precise, like a sculptor chiseling away at an imperfection. Tessai, the head of the Guards, had fallen in a sequence of strikes that were almost cruel in their efficiency, a blitz of halbard and scimitar that seemed to obey no direct system.
I remembered the sound: the ice cracking, the hiss of metal against frozen armor, the faint, horrifying silence that followed. The way Sasrir's shadow curled around him as he stood over Tessai, the deliberate calm of his breathing, the slight ripple of darkness that seemed almost alive. And the way I had felt—frozen, half in awe, half in disbelief, my body trembling despite knowing I had nothing to fear in that moment.
It made my present surroundings—the polished floors, the murmuring Host, Kido's clipped, efficient explanations, Seishan's calm assessment—all feel strangely unreal, like a dream I was forced to step through while my mind replayed an old, terrible truth.
And yet, somehow, I managed to stay upright. Somehow, I reminded myself to nod occasionally, to shift my weight, to let Seishan continue speaking without noticing that my thoughts were elsewhere. My breathing slowed, shallow but controlled, and I focused on the cadence of her voice, letting it act as an anchor while my memories swirled around me.
It was almost maddening how natural it felt—the duality of presence and reflection. Here I was, standing in the circular dais beside the throne of the Bright Lord, one of the most powerful men I'd ever seen, listening to Seishan outline logistics and resource management. And yet, half my mind was reliving a fight that had been nothing short of apocalyptic in its precision. A fight I had started.
I shook my head slightly, trying to center myself. Focus, I told myself. This isn't the time to replay old battles.
I exhaled softly, letting my shoulders slump fractionally, just enough to feel the tension release. Seishan's voice continued, precise, steady, unyielding, and slowly, slowly, I felt the present claw its way back into my awareness. The meeting, the numbers, the Host—all of it snapped back into focus. My ears registered Kido's continued explanation, Seishan's cross-references, and even the slight scuff of Gemma shifting in his seat.
Yet my mind soon slipped backthen again.