Garden Of The Abyss

"It's not often you call me to your chambers anymore, " Donatien spoke, "a lack of company during your tea time?" 

Sitting in the room appointed to the old, yet youthful in appearance sage with flowing, platinum locs, the navy-haired man took a small sip from the porcelain cup. 

Beatrice smiled with a quiet and brief chuckle, swirling her spoon in the warm beverage as she looked at the glasses-wearing Outlander with those ever-curious eyes of hers. 

"That's only because I had to renovate a bit; the security wasn't up to par--I had to set up my own spells," Beatrice smiled. 

A few moments of silence lured Donatien to speak as he adjusted his glasses, "So? What is it you'd like to talk about?" 

"Is it so abnormal to simply want to converse with one of my precious Outlanders? It is my duty to overlook your health--both physically and mentally. I know the passing of Lucas has been difficult for all of you--"

"--Don't," Donatien promptly stopped her words, "Not another word. You don't have the right."

Silence occupied the sage's lips as she could recognize the seriousness laid in the intense, hazel eyes sat behind his clear lenses. 

"We've all wept. We've grieved. We've regretted it. Sora and Sirius, most of all. Don't you dare for a moment try and act like you understand it," Donatien scorned. 

His words were cutting, leaving his lips with full intent to leave like cold, bitter ice. 

"...We only put up with you and your goal because there is something waiting for us at the end--at least, we all like to believe that's the case. All we have to go on is your word; the word of one who thinks of us as nothing more than tools," Donatien spoke, "Don't deny it, Beatrice. You'd be wary of insulting my intelligence at this time." 

In response to these words, the sage glanced at the dozens of books that rested on the timber bookshelves of her personal room before lifting her special cup, taking in a sip before gently placing it down on the small, white plate. 

"You're completely right, Donatien. I don't care. I am unable to. That's the investment I laid into this mission," she said. 

"Wait, you're serious?...To do such a thing--I guessed as much, but I didn't want to believe it," Donatien looked at her, "you removed your heart; your emotions...you." 

Beatrice's silence confirmed it for him as she held her constant, hollow smile that accompanied her boundless, cosmis eyes. 

"I assure you, what I promised you all will be granted--when your mission is complete. Once the throne of Mastorn is usurped, what you wish for will come. That's the geass I have sworn myself to; should I betray it, my existence shall be revoked," Beatrice assured. 

Solidifying her words, she pulled the collar down of her sable, flared dress, revealing a verdant seal that sat on her bosom. 

"...You're telling the truth," Donatien squinted. 

"Indeed, I am," She nodded. 

After a silence that propelled the man's thoughts with these new revelations, the sage finally spoke after sipping her way through two servings of her favorite tea. 

"Donatien," she said softly, "I did call you to my chambers for a reason."

"You have a really roundabout way of telling me that, don't you?..." He sighed.

Adjusting his glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose, he looked at her as if confirming he wanted to hear what she had to say. 

"In the coming days, war is coming. We don't know when, or how, but it's coming," she warned. 

Donatien leaned in closer, taking this information seriously as he placed his elbows atop the white tablecloth. 

"Who is it? The Argonauts?...Perhaps the Victorious Seven? If they think the Hollow Foundation is harboring us, I believe they'll use it as an excuse to finally attack...the Victorious Seven would surely come if that's the case," Donatien asked, though it seemed he was simply speaking out loud. 

"..."Who" is what I can't say for certain. That's because, simply, it won't be just one party. Everything is beginning to set into motion; the pieces are moving, plans are being set, revelations made. Violence and destruction, creation and conquestition...the nature of man. I've lived through many ages...one begins to recognize the pattern of fate through many iterations," Beatrice said, "we're on the precipice of a convergence--a singularity, a coalescence of war--it is the time in which the direction of the world is decided by the victor." 

Donatien's eyes fell wide as his irises shook with the information he unfortunately knew was true. Though he quickly organized his breath, letting out a sigh as he rested his brow against his hands. 

"I see. So, you want me to be prepared. Prepared for nothing specific; just ready. You underestimate me, Beatrice," Donatien spoke, standing from his seat as he adjusted the collar of his light-gray, neat suit. 

"Pardon?" She looked at him. 

"I happen to always be prepared," he stated. 

That's my responsibility as the one they place their trust in, Donatien thought, only together will we make it through this mission. 

[At the same time -- Reid Guild: "Hall of Successors"]

Though it was a guild, just like the Outlanders and the Sky Dragon Conglomerate, there was a clear difference that Sora recognized when walking through the lavish hall of the Reid guild. 

There's so many members, he thought. 

It felt more like a military force than a guild, passing by many stationed guards, all wearing the representative uniform of the guild, both man and female. He gulped his doubts down as he traversed the hall behind the young guild master, who he couldn't quite figure out if he was younger or older than. 

Despite the age belonging to Liam Reid, that likely didn't surpass the early twenties, there was an unspoken loyalty from each of his subordinates that seemed to hold in reverence. Such distinguished favor for their guild leader was a famous concept, making the name of Liam Reid famous as the "Uncrowned King". 

He's something else, Sora thought, he's got the same lack of emotions as Beatrice with the pragmatism and genius of Donatien. Just what kind of life have you led to turn out this way at such an age, Liam? 

It was difficult to see it past the collar of his sable undershirt and hook of his red tie, but a scar etched itself across his neck--the only blemish present on the skin of the guild leader. 

Well, I've got some inkling of the past that led you to this point...though I wonder if it's only rumors. For someone bearing such a highborn name, it's rare to join the Hollow Foundation--a place for outcasts. If it's true you did what you did, well...I see why you're here; killing your own father, a powerful noble...then another, heh--you're much more exciting of a guy than you looked, he thought. 

"Are you certain that is all you'd like to bring?" Liam asked. 

Standing in the spotless, mature lobby of the guild of Reid, Sora nodded his head with a large smile as he slapped his breastplate--wearing his standard, heavyset armory of mystical ivory. 

"As long as you've got the grub covered, I'm good to go!" Sora answered. 

"...Well, I suppose that's fair," Liam looked at him, "and what about Sirius? Is he running late?"

Sora shook his head, "He, well...he wanted to take his time; stop and take in the scenery, you know? Don't worry, I gave him the coordinates you told me about...though I'm still curious about that guy's spatial magic." 

"I'm not arrogant enough to doubt the capabilities of an Outlander," Liam said, adjusting his uniform, "especially a man such as Sirius. As long as he arrives in a timely fashion, I can't complain." 

A moment of pause sat between them as the soft, orange lanterns hanging on the fine walls flickered slightly. A question came to his mind as looked at the guild leader--one he had to ask above all else. 

"Is it really a good idea for you to come along on this mission?" He asked, "it sounds like it's going to take awhile...weeks, maybe even months--and you have a pretty incredible guild here. You're their leader. And if something happened…"

Liam's stoic expression was lightened with a small smile as he turned his gaze to a large painting of a forest placed on the wall, "I understand where you're coming from. But, the reason I have such fantastic subordinates is that they know I have their backs. I prefer to lead from the vanguard, not behind my desk. That's just the way Reid is; I can't expect to reach the summit any other way." 

"...I see your point. Well, if you're fine with coming along, I don't have anything else to say. I'm looking forward to seeing the famous leader of Reid in action," Sora cheekily smiled. 

The youthful guildmaster looked at the vermilion-haired man for a moment more before pushing the two, oak doors open to enter the room stationed behind their pine fragrance.. As Liam stepped forward, his grandiose cape that represented his commanding position flowed behind him like the wings of a taut king, waving with the sigil of Reid on its back.