CHAPTER 570

THE PEACEFUL DAYS

Lino stared silently at the stoking fires, alone. The flames cast dancing shadows along the stoned, gray walls, the black soot gathering along the furnace’s edges, giving away its age. The flames themselves were brilliantly golden, churning and burning like the surface of the sun. Save for him, perhaps only a few more could withstand standing so close to it without catching ablaze. To him, however, it was more temperamental than anything – quaint, pleasant.

He waited, patiently, before proceeding on – beating, tampering, cooling, repeating everything all over again. He’d been at it for months, at least, hardly sleeping or eating. He had entirely shut off the world outside from his perception, erasing that part of himself, becoming one with the fire. Stoking. Churning. Burning. He had actualized his belonging in this part of the world, hidden amidst the aging stones, buried in them, damp and dark. His place was not on top of the throne, but in front of the furnace, in front of the anvil, with a hammer in hand. It was his home.

**

Aaria was currently curiously staring at Cae reading away at a bulk of massive books she got a headache from merely glancing at. However, though the books themselves may be behemoths she will never tackle, Cae’s sheer absorption into whatever he was doing was rather inspiring. She felt deep envy, seeing him like this, as she lacked that fire in his eyes – the same fire that her father had when crafting, something uniquely his own that nobody else could take away.

The candlelight perched by the table's edge burned on in a faint coral, casting trickling shadows across his focused face. His thin fingers moved rapidly as he inked page after page, drawing circles and question marks occasionally, and sometimes even chuckling at a joke in a language whose name she wasn't even able to pronounce. His home was, effectively, this library – tens, if not hundreds of thousands of books lay scattered across over forty bookshelves, each three times taller than she, seemingly ready to collapse at any moment now.

“—nothing?” he asked her all of a sudden, pulling her out of her thoughts and causing her to smile bitterly.

“Nothing.” She replied with a sigh.

“Don’t worry,” he smiled encouragingly, patting her head. “It will come.”

“… I sure hope so.”

“… can I ask you something? But you have to answer me honestly.” He asked in a rather serious tone, surprising her.

“Uh, sure. What’s wrong?”

“You do realize that your dad will most-likely hand you the crown in a few years, right?”

“…” Aaria remained silent, though the look in her eyes betrayed her.

“You can say no.”

“And what if I do?”

“Then he’ll hand it over onto someone else.”

“…”

“You don’t want it?” Cae asked, putting down the quill and turning to face her directly.

“… I don’t deserve it, Cae.” Aaria replied, sighing.

“How come?”

“Oh, please,” she rolled her eyes at him exasperatedly. “To everyone, he is the Empire, Cae. Forget the throne, forget the crown, forget everything – when someone thinks of the Empyrion, they think of him. I'd have to spend my entire life trying to break out of the shell thicker than Dragon's scales while clawing away at it with spoons."

“…”

"He may not care for any of it," she continued. "But… I know he understands. The only reason he'll offer me is that he wants to give me a choice."

“… no. I think he genuinely wants you up there, Aaria.” Cae said. “You’re almost sixteen now – you’re not a kid anymore. Brother has unconditional trust in you – the same as me, sister-in-law, and every one of us who watched you grow. You keep setting yourself against the impossible odds – of course you will feel unworthy. Standing beside them, who can?”

“You?” Aaria arched her brows. “You never seemed bothered by it, as long as I remember.”

“Of course I was bothered by it,” he chuckled. “My father was arguably the best smith in the world, and my older brother was the most famous individual who also became the strongest one, and formed the largest Empire there ever was. But, remember, neither you nor I ever once felt the hammer of pressure from them – my father never forced me to become a smith, and yours never forced you to become anything. They gave us all the tools, taught us patiently, and let us do whatever we wanted.”

“…”

"When thinking about the throne, don't think about those who will doubt you," he continued. "But think of those who trust in you. Besides, you should have realized it by now that brother Lino doesn't want the Empire to be for forever. So, even if you somehow manage to fuck it up majorly, it works out in your favor."

“… ha ha ha, shut it. You know I’ll manage to fuck something up majorly.”

“And that’s fine,” Cae chuckled, setting back his spectacles and picking up the quill. “As long as you never give up – which I know you won’t. You may not realize it, but you’ve the same qualities that let him climb all the way to the top Aaria – his heart, and his bull-like stubbornness.”

**

Lucky was currently yawning amidst the Courtly proceedings; she sat toward the top of an elongated, rectangular, stone table, in one of the seats of honor, yet she was hardly present in the room. In the back of her mind, she registered some voices and occasional shouts, though hardly enough to discern what they were talking about.

Alison sat next to her, and was, unlike Lucky, rather engaged in the entire discussion. Jonttar stood right behind her, his hawk-like eyes staring at everyone who raised their voices at her. He had self-proclaimed himself as the guardian of 'two choir-inspiring Angels' and has spent the last few months shadowing both and squashing any and all negative rumors he'd pick up about them. The two polar opposites in virtually every way, shape, and form falling in love – in his mind – had to be protected. At all costs.

The Court’s Session was currently deciding on how to develop the Outlands, that is virtually every other part of the Empire save for their small continent. As it wasn’t in Jonttar’s job description, he also cared little for it; he merely ensured that the Court remained, at least on the surface, mild and merged. Whatever undercurrents transpired, by the Emperor’s orders, he let them be so long as they didn’t grow out of control.

Though he was rather shocked when he first realized the Emperor’s intentions, after sitting on them a bit, he’d realized it made sense – and that it was effectively the best course of action not just the Empire, but the entire world of Noterra could take. Even if the grand figure appeared entirely unknowing, in reality, he knew better about the base nature of cognitive than most, Jonttar included – which is also why he ordered Jonttar to let the Court scheme and plan, and even sap away at the crown’s authority, bit by bit, until it becomes merely a symbol sometime in the future.

At the moment, nobody dared do anything too outlandish – after all, the speech the Emperor gave during the ball was still quite fresh – but Jonttar had already noticed at least two dozen figures with ambitions that couldn’t be quenched. He smiled inwardly and shook his head, dispersing the pointless thoughts.

"—what are your thoughts, Court Advisor?" someone suddenly spoke to him, though he wasn't able to pinpoint exactly who as the place was rather cramped.

“All ideas are sound,” Jonttar nodded knowingly. “But I am here to advise, Council – not decide. I’m afraid that is beyond my scope. Whatever you settle on, so long as it serves the Crown, I’ll approve.” He easily lied his way through it, as he hardly knew even an iota of what they wanted to do. However, his answer garnered quite a few knowing nods – he was actually quite liked by the Court specifically because he abstained from overruling their decisions and injecting too much of himself into the discussions. In truth, he didn’t care enough to – especially with no incentive to do it.

“Let’s reconvene tomorrow, then,” someone said. “After we sleep on it.”

“Aye, sounds good.”

“Tomorrow it is then.”

“Let’s meet tomorrow.”

“… ugh,” Lucky groaned, stretching. “It’s over?”

“… yes.” Alison replied, sighing bitterly.

“Fuckin’ hell, that felt like a lifetime lost,” Lucky said. “Come on, let’s go drinking.”

“What about the kids?” Alison asked as the two slowly departed, Jonttar following right after them.

“Those bastards are too serious,” Lucky growled. “They just study and practice, study and practice, study and practice. I’ve nothin’ to fucking lecture them on!”

“… isn’t that a good thing?”

“Bah, whatever. Jonttar, you up for some drinking?”

“Always, Lady Luck.”

“Who’s Lady Luck, you bastard?!” Lucky slapped the back of the grinning Jonttar’s head, pulling him by the ear toward the left-end corridor while Alison smiled at him apologetically, continuing forward. “Alright, we’re going shopping.”

“… aren’t we drinking?” Jonttar quizzed, gently placating his hurting ear.

“Alison’s birthday is coming up soon – I gotta get her something. And you seem to have an eye for this weird shit.”

“… y-you… you would trust me with something so important?!”

“… what fuckin’ weird hole did you crawl out of?” Lucky shuddered for a moment, sighing. “But, sure, yeah, whatever you said. Just help me.”

“Of course! I’ll make sure you two will stay together until the end of time! My efforts shall not be in vain!”

“… oh, I get it.”

“Huh?”

“I get why you fit in so well with the rest of us,” Lucky nodded knowingly. “You’re also batshit insane like the rest. Tsk, just you wait. I will trick a completely sane person one day and make them a part of this weird-ass group.” Trick?! Jonttar shuddered. “He he he,” Lucky smiled creepily. “It’s gonna be so much fun…” … eh, whatever. Maybe I should also find some gullible people and trick them? Yes! Whatever makes the Ladies happy!