Elder Parsmir shuffled throughout the War Council, attending to his duties before the grand meeting of all the elders. At that meeting, persons of his level in the council could vote for new laws or modify old ones, as well as vote for others to ascend to the upper echelons. Of course, the head elders already present had made sure that unless someone shared in the two main doctrines, that person would never become a fellow head of the state.

Easier to handle a garden if you can prevent weeds in the first place. Or so the logic goes.

Elder Parsmir, as a middle management elder, was in charge of a portion of the war front, specifically the war front that led over Leafwind. It wasn't his choice, but rather the twisted desires of the war hawks among the head elders that came up with that idea. Those old fogies thought it would be quite amusing to see a supporter of Molov's peace endeavors aid in destroying a nation.

Parsmir ensured, however, that whatever effects he had on the war effort were minimal, only acting as a delegate for the higher elders. He didn't prefer war, and like Molov hated this war, and wasn't willing to be a joker for others.

As he entered his office, Parsmir paused at his desk, noticing a few papers on top.

"Who sent these?" He remembered the night before his table was spotless as ever, but today there were a slew of papers. Parsmir rarely kept papers in his desk, so he instantly noticed as he entered the room the parchment all over.

Sitting in his seat, Parsmir focused his attention on several of the sheets, displeasure in his eyes.

"It hasn't been midday, and those monsters already want me to send casualty report of the war effort. How am I supposed to do such a thing if the generals of the war haven't returned yet?" Parsmir's brow furrowed at the sheets on the table.

I didn't want any part in taking over Leafwind, and they still insist me to do so. From the looks of it, those high elders wanted Parsmir to summarize the completion of war for the meeting of all the elders. But how was he to do this if the army hadn't return yet? It was clearly to make a mockery of Parsmir and a mockery of Molov.

Parsmir sighed, leaving the sheets at his desk as he stood in front of the window. It was held in place with metal bars, shaped in a circle and had signs of wear. In between the metal Parsmir could see the laughing city folk as they went about the day.

Molov, you died for the murder of Her Highness, the Empress. The warring faction are growing lose, and I can't nor can your friends in the higher echelons control those animals. The warring faction inside of the War Council was growing steadily, person by person. Ever since Molov passed away, there was no one capable of preventing their schemes.

Molov, I haven't forgot my old friend those words you told me. Those words to protect Gryfor with my life if I had to. On the day of his execution, Parsmir was able to talk with Molov for a short moment before he died. Molov showed no fear of his death; Parsmir did the fearing for him. Instead, Molov had grand ideas, ideas that one day Alberdos could admit their wrongs in attacking Leafwind and grow relations that have worsened in the years. Ideas which required Gryfor to be in charge.

The scene of Molov's execution entered Parsmir's thoughts. How that thin, pale figure walked in chains to the wooden podium. How he was forced to sit in front of friends, family, and foes on a wooden chair in the city square. How he didn't let out a scream as he was burned alive with Aura, without a sign of resistance. Your death was not in vain, Gryfor--

Before Parsmir could finish his thoughts, a knock came at his office door. He used the sleeve of his clothing to wipe away his fresh tears and hid away his grief. Standing in front of the door, he opened it to a stout fellow.

This man had a beard that extended ear to ear, and his body was quite plump. When he entered into the room, his heavy footsteps echoed out into the hall, and his light skin tone carried the glow of life. As he sat in Parsmir's only seat for guests, it creaked heavily before abruptly stopping.

"Parsmir, you should get new chairs. I told you for several months I can only visit on days like these. Yet you still treat me well to these, these terrible chairs." The man spoke with a gruff tone, staring at Parsmir who had just seated himself.

"I apologize High Elder Zargen. I will be sure to get Celestite furniture on first notice." Parsmir appealed with High Elder Zargen, seemingly very sorry.

"Hmph." Zargen finished talking about the chairs, apparently pleased that the furniture would be Celestite. Parsmir understood this was because Zargen's in-laws worked with Celestite for making furniture. They were the only makers of such items in Alberdos. Thus, Parsmir spoke of Celestite to calm Zargen, knowing the chubby fellow would earn honor for helping his family gain an elder for a customer.

"As you know, me and Molov were quite close Parsmir, even in doctrines. I agreed that war was a waste of resources when against Leafwind. That small nation had absolutely little we could gain." Zargen continued, switching the topic.

"Even if we went to those Highlands near the city of Eshwin, it would have little worth. Didn't many Aura Lords try their luck there to get items and valuables, only to die with their legacy inside. But those monsters think they can simply survey beyond the Fog Shadows and get all the treasures within, as if they were the first to consider it." Zargen hated those war supportive elders he had to call colleagues. Not only did they kill his friend in the pursuit of gains, those gains were impossible to guarantee.

"To think Molov, my friend, you had to die to satisfy their cravings for power...Parsmir, I didn't come to reminisce the past with you. I'd like you to spread your Aura out, to prevent spies. I have something of great importance to speak of." Zargen combed at his beard, rubbing it downward.

Parsmir quietly dispersed his Aura throughout the room, outside the window, and beyond the entrance. His Aura was at first corporeal, but gradually disappeared to the point Parsmir could not see it, but he could feel it. "High Elder Zargen, I have dispersed my Aura. Please continue." Parsmir watched his superior's face grow grave and felt Zargen disperse his Aura as well.

"What I wish to discuss is Molov's legacy, that general Gryfor." Zargen spoke, straightening his posture in the chair. The seat didn't creak at all.

"Has something happened? Something I'm not aware of?" Parsmir's voice carried a tinge of worry. He had long considered Gryfor like one of his sons, and cared for him so. For something to happen to Gryfor he wasn't knowledgeable about, Parsmir felt obligated to find out.

"Do you remember the Faulkner noble? The young master of the Faulkner family?"

"Yes? What about him?"

"So I take it you know he went to Darkthorn Prison?"

"Yes, and Gryfor was serving as Warden there. I don't understand why--"

"The reason I mention this is because of my agent in Darkthorn Prison, Parsmir. He has grim news."

"What happened? Did Gryfor die?"

"He didn't die. Rather, he will. The young master of the Faulkner family has captured him as a criminal." Zargen went on, explaining what his subordinate spoke of to him through a Transmitting Creation.

"On what charges? I'm sure those charges are fabricated." Parsmir didn't believe that Gryfor would assault the Faulkner noble. He had reminded Gryfor to let the young master do as he wished, even if it meant losing face. If problems arose between Gryfor and the Faulkner family, it was certain he would lose.

"On the charges...of practicing Lifeblood Arts, Parsmir. The Faulkner noble was able to find traces of the prisoners' Lifeblood flowing in Gryfor's veins."

"And that's not all. In his office, it was found he ordered the Darkthorn medical team to extract blood for him, all written on parchment. In his desk, an ancient book was found that dealt with Lifeblood refining. One of Eric Faulkner's subordinates are from the Imperial Alberdos Academy, and understood what the book was for."

"Gryfor will come back to the capital in about three days though the Faulkner caravan. He will be bounded and chained, and by law be placed in the Royal Dungeons. As we both know, those monsters that killed Molov will be filled with joy at ending my friend's legacy. I thought you should know." Zargen finished speaking, seeing Parsmir's face become increasingly ugly to behold.

It's perfect for those demons. Now they can rid any trace of Molov. Gryfor was Parsmir's own student as well. And chances were he was going to die in three days because of him.

If only I didn't give him that book in the first place. I shouldn't have followed my instincts. Parsmir had given Gryfor the Lifeblood refining method to Gryfor long ago, feeling that the general would need it one day. Who knew this would only lead to Gryfor's own death? Parsmir's face became terrible as he thought along these lines.

"High Elder Zargen, I'd like to request your aid in freeing Gryfor." Parsmir spoke again, a hint of resoluteness in his eyes.

"Free him? That will be difficult. Even with my resources, to do so would require time. At best, I can only shift Gryfor from execution to long term solitary confinement. What say you?" Zargen was truly unable to do much for Gryfor. The crime of Lifeblood refining was a very heavy one indeed. Zargen wasn't sure he could evade such a thing if he was in Gryfor's shoes.

"That's all I need, High Elder Zargen. Thank you." Parsmir's voice was filled with gratitude. Long term solitary confinement meant Gryfor would not be in the hands of the royal family, but the hands of one of his friends. He could visit Gryfor once a week, a steadily work to get Molov's son out of the prison. It wouldn't be the first time an elder was able to free a person who committed atrocious crimes.

The only problem, then, is to ensure that Gryfor is transferred to Sodgelin Prison. Only then can I save him. If he goes to Plarcik, his fate is sealed. Parsmir understood that even in the judicial branches of Alberdos, there was office politics as well. Parsmir had a friend in the branch that oversees Sodgelin Prison, but he had to ensure Gryfor was transferred there first.

"Then I'll be leaving, Parsmir. I bid you good luck with taking care of Gryfor. And with ensuring Molov can attain justice." Zargen spoke with a heavy tone, regaining his dispersed Aura. He rose from the wooden chair, its shape clearly misshapen by his weight. Zargen left through the door, ensuring that it was closed behind him before he walked into the hallway.

"Gryfor, just why did you do this?" Parsmir couldn't understand why Gryfor would go to such lengths to rise in Aura. To Parsmir, Gryfor was already talented with Aura. And if Gryfor truly needed to become an Aura Lord quickly, Parsmir wasn't unwilling to shoulder the cost of a pill that would allow Gryfor to do so. Although such pills were expensive, Parsmir was sure he could scrounge the funds if he tried.

Now that Gryfor's scheme failed, he was at risk of rotting away the rest of his life, alone in a cold cell. To think that Molov's living legacy would collapse in such a manner.

First, I need to ensure Gryfor is transferred to Sodgelin Prison for his confinement. Only then can I work towards freeing him. Parsmir returned to the mess of papers on his desk, writing quickly on a piece of parchment various information. The Hall Meeting was in an hour, and to not lose face, Parsmir had to summarize the war front in terms of casualties, even if the information was lacking.

Far away from the Alberdan capital, in a region of Alberdos considered the Evaline Hills, a manor stood among a burgeoning city, its size still inspiring awe into those who see it. Unlike the grey marble of the buildings below, this manor was made from a pearl white marble, and with sunlight glowed like an Aura God's Aura, or so the legend goes.

This was the city of Evaline, the home of the Faulkner family and many related bloodlines. Instead of living alongside the Royal Family and similar nobles, they chose to retreat to the countryside. It wasn't because they were unwelcome; the late Empress had even asked for the Faulkner family to remain in the Alberdan capital. Rather it was the choice of Rigor Faulkner, the head of the family, to move all its members away.

Rigor told no one of why he left. He had his amazing manor built to oversee the city of Evaline, perched atop the highest yet gentlest hill of the region. Before the arrival of the Faulkner family, this region was of little importance to Alberdos. Now the home of a major bloodline, many a noble family came to and from the city, building the economy of the region to its current state.

A clear river ran through the city, five intricate bridges built to cross its sandy banks. The city was lively at night, and calm during day. The reddish rooftops accentuated the style of the Faulkner manor; the city was renovated by Rigor to suit his tastes, and not a single coin was taken from the townspeople to pay for his designs. About 80000 people called this city home, enjoying the passing winds that came northward through the Evaline Hills, as they grew up and were buried in cemeteries dotting the landscape. A rich history was born here, and the Faulkner family have added their own page.

If one wanted to enter the manor, they had to pass the various gates of the Faulkner guards for entrance. Each of them was an Aura Warrior, a testament to the strength and wealth of the Faulkner clan. The carefully cut hedges and the paintings that hung inside on various walls of the manor were all created by artists lucky enough to earn Rigor Faulkner's patronage.

As one climbed the elaborate stairwells that led to the second and third floors, one would be able to see the grand city below as well as the various other buildings built by the Faulkner family, such as bathhouses and stables, as well as their own botanical gardens. The beauty of the Faulkner estate was great indeed.

A servant ended his idle chatter with another near the kitchen at the base of the manor, making his way along the stairs. He had been employed directly by Rigor Faulkner to be an accountant, and was speaking with the chef to understand the supply of food in the cellar. His attention to detail was the reason for his employment.

The servant made his way to the second floor, ignoring the melodious sounds that came from his footsteps. In each staircase a Creation was added to match beautiful music whenever it was used. They were pleasant to the ear, but the servant had heard them enough times know which songs were played by each stairwell.

"I can't imagine what the young master would do..." The servant thought back to the young master of the manor, Eric Faulkner, grinning as he remembered Eric's loathing of finery. He'll probably burn this place to the ground. The servant wasn't too far off, given he had been present at the various fights the clan head had with his son over this opulent palace.

The setting sun shined over the city, many of the people already turning on the Creations in the street. Bought by Rigor Faulkner, they served as lanterns at night for those who strolled the city in the evenings. The servant couldn't help but sigh as he saw the beautiful sight through the windows of the manor.

"I don't have time. I need to remind Lord Faulkner of this week's expenses." The servant looked one last time at the grand beauty, then proceeded to the third floor.

The lowest floor was reserved for servants to go about their work, and also lead to the various parts of the home such as the ballroom on the second floor and the gardens outside in the courtyard. The second floor was where the ballroom was located, as well as the throne room Rigor Faulkner usually occupied for his duties. As for the noble family, they stayed in bedrooms on the uppermost floor, and servants had to frequently climb the steps to aid the nobility.

After the passing of the Lady of the family, the home had a slightly sorrowful air. Servants still wondered how and why the young madame of the Faulkner family died so many years ago. They couldn't believe the Gods would take such a pure soul.

As the servant finally made it to the third floor, he made his way to the largest bedroom. His steps ricocheted off the flooring as he neared Rigor's bedroom. Prior to her death, Rigor stayed here with his wife, a charming fair maiden who had her eccentricities but still made even raining days joyous.

Sadly she passed away long before-- The servant was going to finish his thoughts, but he heard something strange.

Standing in front of the bedroom door, the servant could hear the gasps of a young lady coming from within, her breath growing increasingly quick. Her breath grew ragged and heavy, and the slight sound of a man's groans could be heard coming from below the door. The servant felt his face grew a tinge of warmth as he realized what was happening inside.

Calming his thoughts, he walked back and forth in the hallway. His face grew a frown as he understood the matter.

"If he is so weary of being alone, he should just marry someone else. I'm sure the Lord can manage to find even a young maiden to become his. Why does he have to go about making love in this manner? Doesn't he know of the rumors of Evaline?" The man muttered his thoughts to himself, his brow furrowing. If you're going to do it, at least do it with your wife.

The servant turned around as he heard the sound of the master bedroom's door unlock. The door was open ajar, and a young woman of about 19 years of age carefully closed the door behind her.

Is that the lead singer from that group? The servant walked towards the lady still facing the closed door, his steps too silent for her to notice.

"Aria, is that you? Why are you coming from the Lord's chambers?" The servant chose to feign ignorance of what he heard moments prior, seeing it better to keep his Lord's actions a secret. The servant's words scared the young maiden, jolting in place as she turned around.

"Marcus, w-w-why are you..." Aria looked at the heavy expression of Marcus and understood someone knew what she was doing inside of the bedroom. For a moment, her cheeks revealed a trace of scarlet before she dashed down the stairs. Her hands were clasped around her chest, trying to hide something.

"Make sure to button your blouse." Marcus called out to her, watching as Aria stopped and gave him a glare, her cheeks growing ever crimson. Her footsteps resumed once more, slowly disappearing far away from Marcus. Marcus turned around, knocked at the door.

"Marcus, do come in." A deep voice replied back, traces of raw masculinity mixed within.

Marcus twisted the doorknob, closing the door behind him as he saw Lord Faulkner button up his clothing.

Lord Faulkner stood in front of a large mirror, correcting his coat adorned with the Faulkner insignia, a red Raven with its claws outstretched to its sides. A trace of perspiration adorned his temples as he smiled devilishly at himself. Clearly, Marcus could tell Rigor Faulkner was enjoying himself.

"Lord Faulkner, shouldn't you look for another maiden instead? Its been so many years, and we both know that this won't always work. This plan of sleeping with various maidens is bound to cause you a headache and me, me a migraine." Marcus set his items on Lord Faulkner's table, standing beside the bed. Like Athon for Eric, Marcus was Rigor's right hand man since Rigor was young.

Through the years, Rigor Faulkner grew in height, his beard at a short stubble. His eyes gleamed with anticipation, as if life was a game made for him. His tall stature and built body served him well during his time as an Alberdan soldier, and might have even earned the acceptance of his first wife. Sadly she died before being able to give Rigor another child, laying on this bed.

The bed was made of a an ebony wood, purple furnishings and pillows on a velvet bed. The room itself had a purple tinge infused in curtains and the floor, as well as the walls of the room. Much of the furniture in the room, on the other hand, was a black onyx. These were the favorite colors of the couple, and they compromised to this extent.

Marcus, standing there, felt the years had truly gone by quite quickly. His height stopped increasing, his health deteriorated, and his gut had slightly grown. However, he made sure to wear his clothing as before, simple and unadorned. His face was endearing to those he met, but at this moment not so much.

"Marcus, you should understand. I brought Aria to my room for a private performance, but she was a bit lacking in quality. Her throat was a bit parched, so I gave her some of my elixir. That's all, and after that she gave me the most perfect performance I ever heard from her." The lord looked to his accountant, smiling with a devilish air.

Parched, you say? And just a few hours ago you had a performance, and you said it couldn't get any better. Marcus shook his head as he looked at Rigor. He thought about asking what kind of elixir was given to Aria, but decided not to ask. From the looks of it, there was no pitcher in the room, nor was there a glass.

"Rigor, listen to me. There are rumors about your affairs. Of how you have illegitimate children among the citizens of Evaline. Of how you take maidens half your age to a night of fancy, and then ditch them out the door. Of how you reward greater patronage on beauties that aid you in your nightly passions." Marcus was grave as he explained everything that was occurring. As he was the right hand man of Lord Faulkner, he eventually learned of these rumors, and how disgusting they were. Disgustingly true those rumors were.

"Listen to me Rigor. You need to find another wife to dispense these rumors. It doesn't matter her age, just that she is of age. It would be best if she was of nobility. I learned that Duke Wessor's daughter Mana is still willing to marry you after all these years. I suggest you --" Marcus was about to finish his sentence, but Rigor gave him a deadly stare.

"I remind you again and again. I will never, ever accept her in my bed even if she came upon me as a concubine. You should understand the blood that is between us, Marcus. To even suggest such a thing..." Anger flitted in Rigor's eyes mixed with displeasure. It was apparent Rigor disliked this Mana quite a lot.

"Rigor, I understand that the Faulkner and Wessor bloodlines haven't always been filial even though they only differ by a few ancestors, and that they were partially responsible for the Faulkner family's decline in the capital, but perhaps this is a way to bury those old debts. You can unify the two families easily with your skill as an Aura Saint level 10 just half a step from being an Aura Lord. Also, she is a beauty still sought by many suitors." Marcus tried to reason with Rigor, only to stoke flames.

"Marcus, you should understand that just because a flower smells sweet, one can endanger themselves by trying to procure it. Do you think Mana is a simple maiden, a simple flower willing to marry me out of love? No, you haven't understand even in turning 38 this year. She is wicked and calculating Marcus. And if I take her as my own, I'll only die with thorns in my neck." Rigor had made up his mind long ago to never marry from the Wessor family. He believed they were simply incompatible.

"Enough of this. Why have you come here today? You did disturb me after all." Rigor's expression grew warm as he examined his sword and sheath, glancing occasionally at Marcus.

Marcus inwardly sighed from his friend's disposition. Some things will never changed. Marcus decided to focus on the other reason he came, a bit annoyed Rigor said he disturbed Aria's private performance for the lord.

"I came because I have received word from those men you sent out." Marcus continued, scanning one of the documents he brought with him before giving it to Rigor.

"What did they say? Did they find the maidens?" Rigor sent a set of servants to go with his son Eric to Darkthorn Prison. At some point he stopped receiving word from these "bath maidens" giving rise to his suspicion.

Why did he decide to spy on his child? One his child didn't trust him. Rigor and his son, since Lady Faulkner's passing had grown distant. Distant to the point Eric would become a different person near him. Only with that assistant of his named Athon did he show the warmth and laughter he used to.

Besides, Rigor found no problem in watching over his son this way. Rigor had his own secrets, and he wanted to ensure Eric didn't discover them. That required a careful watch to occur almost all the time, regardless of how Eric felt.

So when no reply came from the bath maidens after several days and nights, Rigor sent out a group of men to assess the situation. Marcus was placed in charge of these men, and he was to report of their return and their report as soon as possible.

"Yes they found the maidens." Marcus continued on, speaking of the situation.

"Were they alive?" Rigor sent about ten maidens to watch over Eric and give back detailed descriptions to him directly through their Transmitting Creations. It was good that the maidens were found at long last.

Maybe they were caught in a sandstorm and were separated. Rigor thought along these lines and thought it made sense.

"No they weren't found alive, Rigor. They were dead." Marcus disagreed, recalling the report of those covert men sent out to where those bath maidens last were.

"Dead? Did Eric kill them?"

"No Eric did not kill them. He couldn't. There were traces of minute puncture wounds on their bodies, right next to the Aura Core region."

"And?"

"And it seems someone took their Aura Cores. From the looks of those ladies as they died, they must have felt intense pain and despair. It also seems they had been violated, repeatedly."

"Where were they?"

"They were found buried, haphazardly, under some sand dunes. If it wasn't for a Detection Art among one of the men, they wouldn't have found them."

Rigor returned to contemplating what this all meant. He allowed for the ten women to die after losing their Aura Cores. I sent them to accompany him, and likely they explained that point. So does that mean he is against me?

There isn't much of a reason my own son should be against me. I thought his cold demeanor towards me was just a phase. Unless...he knows? A thought entered Rigor's head of his son knowing what he had done, done with his first wife during her final moments.

He can't know. I made sure that there were no ways for anyone else to know. That Aura practitioner even said it was guaranteed no one would know. Unless, unless Eric somehow remembered it all. Rigor had worked quickly to remove all traces that connected him to his wife's death. He even made sure to wipe the memories of his son to a week before her death. Controversial, dangerous, risky, but better than living with a threat in the form of his own son.

"Thank you, Marcus. You may now leave." Rigor gestured for Marcus to leave. The old servant furrowed his brows, hinting Rigor to reconsider marrying the Wesser noble Mana. Rigor flatly denied Marcus by waving his hand away. Marcus sighed, looking at Rigor with a discouraged expression as he closed the door behind him.

The moonlight came into the room through the windows, caressing Rigor, urging him to stare at its beauty. The radiance of the moon looked particularly lovely, reminding Rigor of someone he missed too much.

"Amela, you were like the moon. Formed of a beauty, and not worthy of me. And now, your son hates me. Hates me to the point of wishing me dead." Rigor looked at the astral object, his heart lurching as he recalled his wife's final words.

Love...Eric...for me. He didn't know if he was truly loving. Not anymore.