There had been much talk within Revalty, a small nation barely holding back the tremendous forces from Ecclesia, that the leaders of both countries were planning on hosting a meeting around the borders of the adjoining nations. Rumors of a new peace treaty spread rapidly through the cities, causing the citizens of Revalty to rejoice over unconfirmed information.
The fighting had to stop; the toll it had on the tiny nation was much heavier than anything Ecclesia had experienced so far. Entire towns closer to the border were destroyed with the unsuspecting citizens completely wiped out, striking terror into every Revaltian citizen, rich and poor alike. At first, their resolve to rebel against Ecclesian rule was rock solid, but as they feared and knew, resistance was futile.
Even worse, Crowne was utterly merciless; he never intended to defeat their army only, but instead pushed even harder than they could bear. He made sure the country was completely crushed, raising the death tolls of citizens and soldiers to the thousands and quenching the morale of those who were still willing to fight by delivering the fresh mutilated corpses of their comrades back to them tauntingly. There was no stopping the attackers now; either they kept resisting and suffered endless casualties or they surrendered to Ecclesia and faced the consequences—a fate possibly worse than death.
Two days later, in the capital city of Revalty, Aberdeen
To say the parliament house was in shambles would've been an understatement. Pure chaos blew up the usually tame building. In exactly two hours, the ambassadors of Ecclesia, along with the right-hand man of Crowne himself, would be arriving in their humble state building to discuss matters of peace and possible conditions. Revalty's leader, Mr Arden, was by no means relaxed with this proposal, even when they were meeting on his grounds. His determined character combined with his wiry composure made him seem like a rather hard-boiled yet unintelligent individual.
This wasn't far from the truth– in fact, it was his strong-willed personality that started the war; he despised seeing his people chained down by the Ecclesian government when he himself was living a significantly better life than his subordinates. He was certainly one leader capable of capturing the admiration and trust of everyone he met, but even he was at a loss for words when he received the news of the ambassadors' visit. It was determined then that he should approach them with the utmost care and negotiate peacefully as much as he could after a long time of consideration.
"We should be safe though," commented Arden's senior advisor, a wizened elder. "The meeting will take place in our own territory, after all."
"Yes… That's what I'm worried about the most," returned Arden, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. "It frightens me a little… Why would they agree to set up the negotiations here? It would make much more sense if the meeting was to be held on neutral ground, especially because their second-in-command would be visiting as well."
Ecclesia, or at least the government Arden knew as Ecclesia, would've never been so laid back or so trusting. And yet… Something else wasn't right. Why did Crowne choose now to begin negotiating? Clearly, Revalty was crumbling effortlessly under his command, so why stop now?
""I did forget to mention something, sir," started the elder, catching Arden's attention again. "Mr Blight will be one of those accompanying Crowne's representatives here. Do you think he's met the requirements we set before him yet, sir?"
Arden gave no reply; he was so tangled within his own thoughts that it took him several minutes to realise there was a messenger knocking on his door. The elderly advisor let the short-breathed man burst through the door and announced, "The meeting will begin in an hour, Mr Arden. If you are ready, sir—"
His words were cut short. Arden raised his hand as if signalling for everyone to be quiet, then turned to his advisor and said, "I'm sorry for ignoring you, Reinhelm. From now on, please consider Mr Blight as a friend; he has passed the test."
Without another word, Mr Arden disappeared with a swish of his coat, twisting around so rapidly, the hem of his coat seemed to blow a gust of wind, disturbing the room.
Just after Arden's departure, Reinhelm, scratching his balding head thoughtfully, also left the room. He, no doubt, must have also had some urgent business to attend to.
—
Just as he had expected, Arden watched as two shining new automobiles, dark-coated inventions with steam whistling through pipes on its engine, pulled up beside the grandiose gates and four official-looking men strolled into the state building, their stern faces not even betraying a hint of nervousness at being in enemy territory. The moment the four ambassadors sat down at the stretched silver table, all voices faded, all noises dulled, and the only sound to be heard was the scraping of chair and floor.
Finally, it was time for the talking to begin. The meeting was now underway.
—
"How did it go, sir?"
For two unimaginably long hours, Mr Arden was forced to listen to lengthy speeches, dull suggestions, and overall nasty comments. The ambassadors, in his humble opinion, were a group of good-for-nothing bastards who clearly milked their government for an easy life.
The president's second-in-command… He didn't seem that impressive.
From the tales he had heard from others, Mr Grock seemed like a mythological hero from old folk tales; an almighty man free from any kinds of imperfection. But when they met face-to-face… Sure, he seemed exceptionally studious and determined but he was expecting more of a sagacious looking man who looked as if he'd travelled across the entire globe with hundreds of years worth of experience. Instead, a much younger man with a strong jaw and forbidding eyes met him. In fact, Mr Arden thought that the meeting overall was exceptionally confusing; nothing, with the sole exception of some truly unnecessary comments, had gone the way he thought it would've gone. He gave a little cough before telling his faithful advisor of the meeting.
"I suppose," he said with a sigh, "you could say it's been… eventful. Nothing, especially not Mr Grock, was within my expectations; his youthful appearance certainly gave me a shock. From what I've heard about him, the fellow seems to be thirty years too young to fit the description!"
"Ah, my dear Arden," smiled Reinhelm sagaciously, "sometimes it would be wiser not to judge a book by its cover, no? The young man might not have been what you were expecting but let me ask: aside from his physical appearance, was there anything else that differed from the rumors you've heard?"
"Certainly not. He spoke like a true authoritarian."
"There you go. For some reason, he might have been concealing some of the true facts from the rumors to try and take you by surprise."
"I wonder…" muttered the president thoughtfully. "But the strangest part of all is that we still haven't reached an agreement of any sort yet—"
Two clear knocks pierced through his words. Both men ignored them.
Another two knocks, this time much sharper than the first two, returned.
Unsure of who it was this time, Reinhelm tottered over to the door, wrenched it open, and to his surprise, found himself standing in front of a gentleman he had never met before. However, although Mr Arden hadn't noticed him either, the man seeing the president, gave a sound of recognition and made his way into the room, completely uninvited. He bowed hair slightly in respect, held out a courteous hand to be shaken, and said, "Elysius Blight, at your service, sir."
A long silence followed these words; it was so quiet, the only sounds left were their breaths. Mr Reinhelm stared at Blight with narrowed eyes, shooting daggers with only his eyes.
"So you're the one who'll be helping me from now on?" interrogated Reinhelm harshly, sparing nothing from the newcomer. Blight gave a formal nod. Mr Arden quickly intervenes, stepping between the two men.
"Why don't you come into a separate room, sir?" he said hastily, avoiding his advisor's dangerous gaze. "If you'll excuse us, Reinhelm."
He pulled open the door while beckoning to Blight to follow him, then disappeared like a puff of mist. Down the winding corridors they went until Mr Arden came to an abrupt stop and took Blight into another room. This time, it was far simpler designed; a line of chairs lay ready for service as a cluttered desk sat in the middle of the room. Mr Arden sank into his cozy seat, a troubled expression settling on his haggard face, and gestured for Blight to take a seat himself. He collected the words in his mouth, organised them tidily, and began the conversation.
"So, Mr Blight," started the president, putting on a tough face. "We have decided to trust you for now. Will you join our government starting from today? There's been a room specifically prepared for your arrival if you'd prefer to rest today. I expect you've been quite worn out from fleeing from the Custodians—"
"Oh, not at all. In fact, I'm quite certain Crowne hasn't even realised my absence yet; I snuck in here disguised, you see, hence this uniform."
Blight pulled at his sleeves as if to emphasize his sharp clothing.
"The only way I could slip through the security was to dress like this, so I apologise for any confusion I might have caused."
A natural aura of authority oozed out from the humble man before Mr Arden's eyes, despite half-hearted attempts of hiding it. Although it was only the first time they had met, the president of Revalty felt drawn to this intriguing figure, yet for some reason, an invisible hand seemed to be restraining him from fully trusting Blight; an invisible hand that held him back not out of fear of betrayal, but rather fear of creating another totalitarian. He was afraid of handing power over to the man who radiated both leadership and charisma, something that went hand in hand with dictators. Blight offered a reassuring smile.
"Perhaps we should come to an agreement first, Mr Arden."
Mr Arden gave a stiff nod and pulled out a crisp document that strongly represented a contract. There was, however, nowhere to sign a signature. Scanning through the paragraphs in mere seconds, Blight pointed at the official contract and asked, "These are the conditions I am to follow, am I right?"
Mr Arden answered his question with another stiff nod.
"I have a feeling we'll get along just fine then, Mr Arden," said Blight enthusiastically, holding out a hand which was reluctantly shaken. Footsteps rapidly descended from the hallway outside and after a single abrupt knock, the door flew open and in walked Reinhelm, his withered body wheezing as he slowly caught his breath. He shot a very dirty look at Blight and turning to the president whispered, "How do we know this man is Blight? You could've been feeding an enemy valuable information this whole time, you know."
Mildly amused at the rather weak attempts of whispering, Blight cleared his throat loudly and replied, "If you really wish to test me again, I will most certainly be happy to oblige, my good man. You may present to me anything you wish in order to determine my loyalty to this country."
Reinhelm glared at Blight suspiciously while simultaneously coming up with ideas for challenges he imagined were impossible.
"How about this," suggested Blight suddenly. "I'll go to my room and wait there until you can think of something. Is that alright with you, sir?"
He turned to the president.
"I have no objections. You, Reinhelm?"
His advisor, although appearing exceptionally foreboding, had no choice but to accept this suggestion as he was still scrambling for ideas. He scowled at Blight, then said," Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning at nine, meet us here in this very building. No exceptions."
"I accept your terms," returned Blight, bowing his head to the two of them before being led away by some of Arden's bodyguards to his room.