A shadow of a smile seemed to emerge from the serene visage of their appointed messenger. Who in reply let out a small chuckle laughing with delight at a naive question posed from a young child.

Madame Hellenia opened her arms wide, the emerald folds of her finecrafted gown picked by the wind as the edges of her sleeves carelessly cradled by the last leaves tumbling messily to the ground.

Not a single spruce of disarray, nor bland mockery aimed at them, there was nothing that could betray the innocuous stance she'd given them.

The quacking of the ducks coming from behind the still standing figure of Madame Hellenia seemed to break the chain of silence. The heavy cuffs that'd inconspicuously latched onto their wrists and 'round their necks seemed to mechanically break off the spell, falling off their shackled bodies and freeing them for that looming sense of dismay.

Hector was the first and only one to take a step forward, dusting off his coat while he shoved his hands into the pockets of the latter, his rough hands disappearing and thus devoured by the blackness of the leathered clothing.

Madame Hellenia seemed to be greatly amused by the gesture of the IX Apostle, her smile slowly spreading across her curated dark features.

Her viridian earrings tingled violently as a new gush of the winter wind made the land tremble at its passage, installing a new intentional emotion cutting into their flesh.

For many ignorance could be a bliss, a secure way to not succumb to the truth kept behind. But for few ignorance was the very core of human ideology.

The powerless succumbed to the holders of knowledge, forcing them into a world destined to be sacrificed as pawns in a game full of double-edge truths.

Truth was never one sided, there never could and never would have been a single truth towering above all. Just like a broken mirror, with each shard containing a diverse truth, each shard full of its very own secrets and lies.

A cobweb of illusions, truths and deceptions all seamed together to craft an appearance of linearity, of false order.

Madame Hellenia had become a holder of knowledge, and all other mere worms ready to be used in a fishing expedition as bait for success.

Closing the distance, Grey now stood beside the Seeker's messenger. Hands resting behind his back. He kept looking in front of him, trying to spot the mirage of the waters of Noor Lake.

"I thought you'd broken free of their cage, Hellenia," Grey gave her a small smile, nodding his head in greetings, but still did not cross his gaze with hers.

Madame Hellenia made her arms fall once more to their sides, mimicking his greetings before rubbing her hands.

"It seems you've not broken free of our customs yourself," Rosalynde slowly made her hand lower in search of her gun.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Lady Steel." Rosalynde's hand halted midway, freezing as if it'd been bitten by a venomous snake sinking its poison inside her veins. But Rosalynde kept her cool, her smile barely moving an inch.

"How kind of the Seekers to send one of their favorite lackeys to escort us," Grey deviated the argument with his usual innate ability, stressing his vocal cords when pronouncing the word lackey, surely to see what reaction his former comrade would have given him.

And Hellenia did not disappoint his expectations when she inadvertently made her eyes narrow at him, a semblance of that ghostly smile disappearing completely from her face.

Hit and sunk.

"You still think you'll get away with each snarky comment your brilliant mind comes up with, Hector?" Hellenia sardonically in reply, brows raised incredulously.

"I'll start accepting your dedicated suggestions when you'll start walking by yourself, free of their shadows." He tilted his head, hoping to finally see the borders of Noor Lake, blandly ignoring the stare of their assigned messenger.

"Bold of you to say that - especially if taking into consideration the last six years," Rosalynde shot an inquisitive gaze at that statement, shoulders tensing under the thick layers she'd used to conceal her wounded form.

It'd started stinging, her thigh pulsating from time to time, reminding her of the time running out.

A hand slid on her back, Katherine's voice a delightful whisper to her ears.

"Change footing, apply less pressure, even if it means breaking your stance. We can't risk you dropping on one knee in front of the Seekers," Rosalynde didn't turn around to thank her comrade, a subtle nod was the only reply she let out, the tension dissipating from her back only after Katherine's hand broke contact with her.

She had to adapt to the new circumstances, she had to - like she always did.

First adjust her line of thoughts, and then take advantage of the situation. She had to study things well before taking the first step forward.

Crushing a tuft of grass under the sole of her heavy boots, Rosalynde took small calculated steps forward, hiding her limping thigh as she advanced cautiously towards Grey and Madame Hellenia.

She stopped only when towering over the proud messenger, lowering her gaze to make them meet smiles.

"I was wondering if the gift I'd left you at our last meeting had gone lost. Seems like it has." She narrowed her eyes, the corner of her lips dangerously tugging upwards.

And there it was, the subtle thread of memories related to the explosion of a few months ago. She could see it in her eyes, like a spark of light emerging from a deep azure lake.

"Now. As much as I would love to remind you of that amusing night. It isn't very respectful of the host to leave its guests standing outside, engaging with trivial chatter right Madame? Especially before what seems to be a frightening snowstorm."

She forced her smile into something sweeter, more appealing to the mind, clasping her gloved hands together to make sure the message got received.

There was a fragment of truth hidden in between her words. The clouds swayed by the upper winds were perilously rushing towards the Rowlian capital, dark and heavy with freezing rain.

A ripple of once silenced thoughts surged forwards. And neither Grey nor Rosalynde needed to know who were the parties involved behind the small disharmony.

Katherine would have moved against Cleia if Hellenia wouldn't have answered soon.

"But of course, the Seekers are anxiously waiting for you two to come before them." She took off, swiftly ducking under Rosalynde's arm to avoid any form of repercussions from the IV Apostle.

Hellenia didn't even look back to make sure she still was being followed. And led them deeper inside the border between District Street and the Barracks.

꧁꧂

The red bricks of district street seemed to be some sort of guide for the party. The sound of the boots breaking the waterline of a dormant mirror of water the only noise providing them comfort while advancing in that desolated moor of elder battles fought centuries ago.

They seemed to be far from District Street, the deafening silence an unsettling presage of what they were going to soon be drowned in.

Broken stalls once vending all kinds of goods. Crocks of plates, shards of glass, hidden between the dirty road and the mossy green mold spearing along the walls and ground.

A presence had approached Rosalynde's defensive walk, Grey's presence an anchor of safeness in that unknown land of danger.

"This way please," Hellenia gestured to the building on her left. What in the past had seemed to be a temple designed for the veneration of a god that their world had long forgotten about. The high marmoreal columns had lost their initial splendor, a gray shell of what surely had been a majestic house to the god.

They took the first steps, the ascent steps moved by time and the whims of mother nature seemed to withstand their weight. But that turned out to be an illusion to mislead the common mind.

An overwhelming smell of incense cut off all other scents, pricking the roots of their nose, making Cleia gag with a growing sense of nausea washing over her senses.

They'd entered the domain of the Seekers, the Underworld had opened its doors for them to enter and be devoured.

"No need to be scared, you're here as guests after all." Hellenia reminded them with a wicked grin, gesturing around them, inviting them to take a peak around.

It seemed to look like the outside, but Rosalynde - and the others too could feel them. Eyes, eyes of all kinds spying on them, analyzing their every move. Deeming if the sent invitation had been the right move.

"We aren't used to receiving visits. You'll have to pardon their curiosity." Hellenia added as they reached the end of the temple.

"You don't say," Rosalynde replied crudely, skipping a puddle of what seemed like freshly spilled blood.

She didn't want her shoes to get dirty, after this she had to go and help Pharah prepare for the upcoming meeting with the Detrian rappresentative.

"How do you find it, Grey? Has something changed since your last visit?" Grey gave one, calculated smile as reply to her questions,

"I do wonder if the Crimson Marionette decided to clean up the mess she left last time," by the look

Hellenia gave him, Grey knew the Marionette had not done anything of that sort.

Too much effort had been spent that day, after all.

They continued their descent down in between the meanders of the Underworld, the smell of incense and the sound of forged steel could be heard coming from all sides of those intricate underground chambers and tunnels.

The eyes too had never lessened, not once, Rosalynde could feel them burning at the back of her neck, a sensation that stopped after Grey had noticed her distress, raising his hand to shield her vital point from any form of attack.

"Now you probably realize why I decided to leave this place," he whispered.

"When we'll get out I'll treat you to a good amount of liquor," she promised, stretching her neck as she said it.

"Can't wait to see you loose again," he snickered, earning a loose smile from his partner.

"Bold of you to think I'll lose in a game that doesn't require talking."

"Funny how you sound so sure, just like the day we first met. Where if you don't remember you miserable lost," she shot him a look that could have killed the most atrocious of mercenaries around to hire.

"You cheated."

"And you're creating excuses," he ended the conversation at their arrival in front of a high and elegant looking double door. Two massive doorknobs posing guard, and beside them two giants armed with shield and spears

And it was that very set of spears that stopped Katherine from following the remaining three into the Expectancy Chamber, two guards with the face hidden under identical leathered masks posing guards blocking her way. She looked at them both, an incredulous look echoing on her face.

"You haven't been invited," Hellenia stated leisurely, sighing at the useless attempt of the V Apostle to get past that barrier.

"But she has?" Katherine nodded with her chin towards Cleia, who silently had gotten behind Rosalynde back, the less she conversed with that woman the better she would have slept at night. No matter the times she'd apologized, the latter would have always kept her on the side of wrong.

She'd been young, younger than all the ones present when they forced her to do that act, merely a growing and starving child. Even Rosalynde, who'd been the direct affected, had let go of the matter.

So why could she not?

What made it so difficult?

"It is unfortunate but I feel generous, Apostle. You can either go back and wait for them here - or take a chance and accompany your friends here. Beware tho, I can't guarantee your survival if you pick the last option."

Hellenia's face broke into a wicked grin, watching satisfied as Katherine pulled her fists, shoulders slumbering at the realization there was nothing for her to do apart from stepping back and awaiting for the others' return.

The room they entered was darker than a shadows dance during an eclipse, the senses growing numb as the cold crept onto their bodies, tearing their flesh and gnawing onto their nails; threatening to tear them off and toss them down the sewers.

Hellenia hadn't accompanied them through the door. Her amused, twinkling, olive eyes the last color the trio had set their eyes on before the void had come forward. Cleia turned around, sharpening her view to catch the glimmer of something - anything that could help her find an anchor to her growing restlessness clawing her way out her soul.

She wanted to scream, but all that came out of her was a barely hearable labored breath.

Suddenly, a gloved hand went to grasp her shoulder, her body slightly jumping in surprise. Rosalynde, it had to be Rosalynde.

"Calm down, you're being loud."

Cleia didn't know if to catalogate that request under the register of order or under the one of threat. Maybe both, maybe neither, it was subjective and at that moment not even crucial to why they'd gone down there.

Rosalynde too had started wavering after entering the room, the memories of the days passed into the underground cell under the Imperial Citadel surging forward like bloody-wrenching ghosts out for her psyche, ready to rip her apart.

She'd listened to Katherine's suggestion, and the pain on her thigh had slowly begun fading away, but that wasn't the time to turn back and thank her comrade.

Keeping quiet, and intimating Cleia to follow her example and keep her mouth shut, she tried sharpening all of her senses.

Closing her eyes she let the tide wash over her. The smell of incense, once overwhelming, had now slowly started becoming familiar. The darkness an old friend reunited with each step towards the unknown. And the beckoning silence the thread she would have used to tack them all.

Silence, a drowning endless silence, and then she started hearing it. The sound of water far away, the dripping, the deaf sound of the water breaking before smoothening once more - creating a perfect surface.

Could it be the Seadris? Or maybe an underground current connected to it?

Then even that was lost, and in its stead, another sound decided to make its appearance.

It was clear as an untouched spring breaking through the rock atop of a mountain. Free as a nightingale unchanged and already flying thanks to the upper currents. And close as never before.

A laughter.

The laughter of a woman.

A fire broke out in the middle of the room, a brazier crackling as if thousands of elder bones had been thrown in it as mere firewood to fuel the confined flame. The light coming from the hearth the salvation to the eyes he laughter had stopped in the exact moment the fire had appeared.

Rosalynde opened her eyes, and like the other two looked upwards, her chin rising proud as her eyes settled on the scene coming to life.

Four raised pedestals with four different thrones placed on them stood on the other side of the room. And sitting on those thrones with their faces and bodies covered were four individuals.

All dressed with the same robes, all wearing the same mask, but all wearing different colors.

"Welcome our dearest guests. I hope we did not scare you with this delightful prank." the blue mask said from under the robes.

The three all took a step forward. They were ready to talk.

꧁꧂

Grey had let his tongue loose on the Seekers while inside the carriage that'd brought them here. Nothing much really, just general information on who they were going to face.

The Azure Admiral had been the greeter, her azure robes a mirage of purity amidst that dance of lies and expectancy. Her face was covered just like all others behind a light blue mask. Only her eyes, ironically blue like the clear sky, could be seen peeking out from that well forged shield.

She crossed her legs, plopping both elbows on the resting wood. Rosalynde had the feeling she was smiling at her in particular.

"Grey, lovely to see you again," The Azure Admiral started the conversation first, a giggle followed as she saw the man acknowledge her greeting, nodding in the same way he'd done with Hellenia before.

"It's been a while Admiral, I hope your business projects have set sail like you fervently desired," he kept his cool, standing beside Rosalynde as she made her gaze wander from Seeker to Seeker. Taking in all the details she could before the Amiral called out her name.

"Rosalynde Liberis Steel, only attendant to the first Apparent Heir. Born in the village of Roxton 24 years ago," She should have done the same as Grey, kept her cool and nod in confirmation. But she did not, her gaze nor smile did not waver once as she prepared her words cautiously.

"What did you call me here for exactly?" Her resolution rolled out of her tongue when she spoke those words. Her smile astute and feline made the Amiral giggle louder in harmless delight.

"Ah. They'd told me you'd be fun to chat with. But not this fun," the tone of voice had changed, from a harmless banter to a delightful play of danger.

A grunt made Rosalynde turn her gaze, the Viridian Judge from the other side of the ,on the far right, was demanding attention now.

"You're late," the Viridian Judge stated with disdain, spitting those words out as if it had been starved in a dungeon and fed with rats and cockroaches.

"Your messenger wasn't fast enough in bringing us here," she countered back.

The Judge slammed his fists on both sides of his throne, knuckles white with purplish veils slowly appearing to the eye. His green robes darkened as the dance of the flame painted shadows over his garments.

"You dare insult the owner in his own house!" He bellowed, rough and raw, inwardly or maybe purposely revealing the age he was slowly getting closer too. The Viridian Judge wasn't young, and probably was older than the founder himself.

"I have not. I merely replied to your wrong statement," playing with fire, she knew very well what she was doing at that moment.

She had to anger, to force a reaction not from him, but from the man in black at the center.

Black Jack. The original founder and the one Grey had referred to as the King of Bastards sat in one of the two thrones in the middle. Dressed in black just like a priest readying himself for the morning round of prayers, setting out before the advent of the sun with a sacred text tucked neatly under his arm had still said nothing.

He kept his back pressed against the velvet back of his throne, his obsidian eyes observant and judgmental like she'd never seen before.

And the feeling his mere presence brought - that was enough to make her revert back to her inner lost child, hiding under the bed when thunderstorms hit her small home when her parents were out at the market buying goods.

He was intimating, hands locked together as if in deep prayer. He hadn't moved once, not a breath had been heard coming from him.

That made her wonder if under those robes, concealed beneath the fabrics was a breathing being or a decaying corpse left there to rot.

"You're conscious of crossing a line you know exists and yet you seem to not care," a third voice emerged from behind the crimson mask.

The Marionette, the second veteran and the most active Seekers. Her title had come after a particular episode that Grey had decided to not disclose publicly with Rosalynde in the wolf's den. Dressed in a mesmerizing red with her fingertips wrapped on threads of all colors. She appeared to be calm, calmer than the Viridian Judge and the Azure Admiral.

"I talk to please when I want," Rosalynde stated, and that reply earned her another nasty remark from the Viridian Judge.

"I see that. Bold like many, and yet aware like few," a undefined danger, the Crimson Marionette was indeed the second danger - just like Grey had warned her about.

"Silence."

The room grew cold, the dancing flames confined in the brazier seemed to abide by the order coming from the dark mask.

"Do you know why I called you here today?" Rosalynde shrunk over that gaze, a knot formed at the end of her throat cutting off the air supply, nearly making her clutch her throat in a vain attempt to gather air.

"I have questions," she managed to make out.

"And we have the answers you're looking for."

Indeed, that's why they called the Apostles here today.

"I expect you say not a word of this meeting, otherwise the King of Cards would feel excluded and probably betrayed," Her smile remained unfazed, her eyes however narrowed for a fraction of second before regaining control over herself.

"You have our words," she could feel the approving look of Grey from beside her. Grey, who unlike her, appeared calmer than ever.

Silence fell again. Rosalynde's mind gathered all her doubts, all her unanswered thoughts, compiling the list before clearing her voice with a few forced coughs.

"About Verity's goal." A movement came from under the robes of Black Jack, a callous hand rose in sign of halt made her question die in the tepid air.

"You have asked the wrong question, young lady." She pursed her smile thin, oiling the gears in her head.

"The windflower," Grey's voice cut the air, earning a shiver, just like he'd broken and fixed every single bone present in her body.

With his other hidden hand Black Jack took out a piece of crumpled paper, yellow on its edges and dusty as a century old book kept secure inside a library. Black Jack flattened it before reading its contents out loud.

In the name of the Goddess of Justice Verity. We, sole holders of the one and truth, shall reveal the decay behind the eternal splendor of the Crown. How many years have passed since we've all fallen under the spell of the vicious Crown? How many have lost their loved ones when trying to rebel to the casts forced upon the glory of our ancestors? How long ago we will continue taking the blame for a fault as old as Noor Lake, and unfair as the silent deaths of the common folk who still have not found peace in their deaths.

May the Seadris bless us all and purify our souls from the deceptions and lies fed us since birth.

May the Des Reslows fall under the heavy choirs chanting for their heads, and may their blood dye the streets with the color of a new dawn.

Stand aside my friends, for the harbingers of a braver tomorrow have descended to unmask what should have been known ages ago.

Yours.

Veritas.

"Verity was not found to fight against the Crown. It started with a pacific group of nobles and merchants who found the system unfair in our Empire. They gathered in secret to exchange ideas on how to try and improve the poverty that'd spread after the war against the Detrian Republic twentyseven years ago."

But then why the Windflower? Why use a flower symbolizing rebirth?

"If it was a peaceful organization, how did it come to be like this?" Rosalynde couldn't help herself.

"The Verity you've come to face has only one thing in common, its name. Verity was founded to make the common folk break free of the judgemental and unfair system the Empire had placed its founding pillars on."

"Why the Windflower?" This time it was Grey that turned around, looking at her as if she'd grown another set of heads.

"Windflowers represent rebirths, a new dawn - if we want to use the expressions in here," he waved carelessly the precious paper.

"That means the symbol was another," Grey answered instead of Black Jack, who let out a grunt of primal approval towards his former servant.

"The White Chrysanthemum to be exact." He gestured to Grey to come forward and retrieve the leaflet, grabbing an edge before pulling it towards his chest.

"If they were as you say a pacific group then what happened to them?" This was probably the only question Rosalynde already had the answer to.

You didn't need a fortune teller to know why - it was obvious. That's how power rotated after all, the second you become an ant threatening the influx of power you're branded for life. A sore thumb is how the holders of such power will see you as.

And to make sure you never gain consent over people, the only way to secure that threatening rising butterfly. Was to cut off the wings before it could even attempt to take a flight.

"All members were discovered and hunted down, the old meeting place was burned to the ground too, and the families of the conspirators massacred in their own homes. Even if few were able to escape before the claws of the Crown were able to get to them." Black Judge turned his gaze towards Rosalynde, chuckling as if recalling a long lost memory hidden in the back of his mind.

"You look just like him - except you have your mothers eyes."

"What are you talking about?"

"You look like your father in his younger days - on the day he took your mother and escaped north to escape the wrath of the Crown,"

That's not possible.

"My father died at the hand of the Detrian Republic," Rosalynde seethed.

"I beg to differ my dear, your father is very much still alive. And the deal I struck with him still stands high and true like the day we shook hands to seal it for life."

"My father was -"

Her father couldn't - her kind father who hunted for the village could have not been a traitor to the Crown - to the Des Reslows. To Pharah.

"A member of Verity, quite so."

For once, words actually failed her. Black Jack's malicious laughter of someone who knew how to spell out the truth, the only sound inside the Chamber of Expectancy.

Rosalynde then raised her head once more. She had to know more. About her father, about herself. 

And the truth behind Verity, a truth directly connected with her blood, a secret kept since birth.

Discovered thanks to a treacherous truth, that deep down she hadn't wanted to find out.