"…"

Aurelia didn't know what to say, how to contradict that dark and possible fate. Or at least that's how it seemed from a third party's point of view, because Tristessa had serious doubts about that woman's will.

That same woman who had accused Tristessa's companions of daring to have dreams when the future was doomed. Without hope, without faith.

"Damn it… His [Essential Dilution] makes me tremble like a child. A cultivated soul with so much experience is on another level…"

Tristessa heard Astoria say all that under her breath, and not only did she see fear etched on her face, but her right hand had gone straight to the hilt of her greatsword, ready to draw it. The instinct for survival kicking in in the face of unfathomable danger.

And she wasn't the only one: judging by how restless he was and how he was sweating cold, Severus also seemed to be aware that they were in the presence of a potential adversary who emanated power greater than all of them combined.

A capacity for thaumaturgy that he could only dream of possessing. Someone who, if he became their enemy, was utterly unbeatable.

It was certain Death.

"Sorry about that," Jonas said, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. An attempt to ease the tension that hung in the air, thanks to himself. "I think I got carried away, let's get back to the main topic. No one will arrest anyone here. Is that right, Aurelia?"

"…tch."

With that annoyed click of her tongue, Aurelia turned and left the circle, her back to them. She leaned Twilight of the Terror Hand against the cold wall and crossed her arms, appearing ready to listen, but still staring at them all with such hatred that she seemed like she wanted to slowly kill them all, savoring every second of their agonized screams.

"Let's get to the reason for this meeting, shall we?" The Advisor proposed, smiling at the uneasy guests. "Miss Tristessa, you are requiring military support, correct? Are you certain that Entrana will be attacked by the Coven?"

Tristessa felt her hands tremble, resting on her thighs. The responsibility was immense; convincing someone like Jonas was no easy task. It didn't matter that he seemed more inclined to listen than the violent woman observing from a distance: everything depended on the facts she could speak aloud, facts that didn't border on a certain truth unsuitable for mortal ears.

"The witches' intention is not to attack the city, Lord Youngblood. They want to kill the Mercer-Archeos, and they won't stop until they succeed," she explained, her voice rasping and her lips dry. Her stomach growled, twisting with sharp pain. It was the fear that everything they had achieved would be lost. Always present. "The Fireclaw Company is protecting the family, but they won't be able to hold out much longer. The mercenary who arrived in the city today told me so when he briefly regained consciousness."

"And he didn't tell you when they were coming to the city?"

"No… He almost died of a heart attack trying to give me that warning."

The Advisor sighed and leaned his head back in his chair. He ran a hand over his forehead, considering what to do.

"I'll send someone to the Company's headquarters to keep us updated hourly on that mercenary's condition. We need more information, or we'll have too many variables at play. This much uncertainty is unacceptable; it's how misfortunes and collateral damage happen," he said, staring blankly into the hall swollen by the penumbra. He was analyzing the unfavorable conditions Tristessa had presented regarding the problem at hand. "We don't even know which direction they'll come from. Feydra Forest and the Derelict Outpost to the south; the Altiza Plateau and the Ruined Port City of Arkos to the east. Do any of those places sound familiar, Tristessa?"

"Yes! Arkos! They set off in that direction from the Derelict Outpost!" she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear, hoping that this scrap of information would be useful.

"Reaching the Onyx Sea could take at least two days from the Outpost, depending on speed and how much trouble they have skirting the plateau. Or they could take the Meridion route over higher ground, but that would make the journey even longer." With the index finger of his left hand, Jonas traced imaginary lines in the air, as if he were looking at an invisible map before his eyes. "But the height of the Altiza Plateau is a desperate defense for those far from any protection against the Evil Dream; they must have taken refuge there. If we assume they went to the east coast and returned, perhaps…"

"It's been six days, Lord Youngblood. Constantly on the move and only resting to allow their vilecrosses to recover stamina, they could also have taken the coastal route and crossed the Hexel Valley via the Great Hovering Bridge," Auron suggested, making Jonas pause his finger movement for a moment.

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A new path. One he couldn't refute and was forced to agree with a nod.

"With that option, they could descend through the labyrinthine paths of the valley and arrive here via the Hexel Highway, yes… They could arrive from the north or the south tomorrow, in the best-case scenario."

"Another alternative is that they could continue past the Bridge, toward the Bisector Mountains." It was Astoria's turn to propose another option, necessary to tie up loose ends, but also complicating the analysis even further. "If they enter the ancient crystal mines, not only could they lose the Coven, but they could also use the internal routes to exit directly into the remains of Crater City. And from there, take the West Meridion Highway to arrive back at the Derelict Outpost."

"Your theory isn't bad, Astoria. But most likely, if they take the routes inside the mountain, they'll end up lost," replied the gunslinger, arms crossed and adjusting his handkerchief. "Or worse, they'll be so unlucky that they'll find a secret entrance to Merzul and wish they'd stayed in the darkness of the mine."

"They can't do something insane like enter the Nation of Dark Thaumaturgy. There are signs in the caves that lead to Crater City; I've heard adventurers talking about it several times at the cabaret."

"Yes, but those signs are five hundred years old!"

"It's an unorthodox option, but it's still a possible one, young Casimir."

Having interrupted the gunslinger and the knightess, Jonas pulled a small white notebook from an inside pocket of his suit and began to write with thaumaturgy manifested through the cane's catalyst. Lightly burning the page, he focused his magic on tracing letters as if with a pen and ink.

"How do you flank the enemy if you don't know which way they're coming? The answer is to segment military power. Divide resources to cover possible routes and rendezvous points. Independent military personnel to the south and north, lookouts with communication equipment…"

"Gods-dammit it, Jonas, are you out of your mind? That technology can't fall into the hands of witches, much less if it's to save people I myself condemned to exile!" From the periphery of the circle, Aurelia spoke with indignation. "Didn't it occur to you that this could all be a trap? How can you even trust that…that little bitch who reeks of evil?!"

She was unable to keep her anger under control, watching her authority squandered, her judgment ignored, and treated as a nuisance by everyone present except the Advisor.

And, surprisingly, the victim of her slander and accusations.

"Aurelia… I thought I was going to hate you like I hate Daiana, after she killed me and everyone I care about…" Tristessa thought, looking at her with understandable fear and aware that she herself was the cause of the antagonistic role that was being forced upon the She-Dragoon. "You are a fatal obstacle in our path, and yet, I cannot hate you…"

She couldn't, not now that she was in her presence after all the pain and anguish she had caused the four of them. Tristessa couldn't hate someone for whom nothing was going her way. Someone just as lost as she was.

In a way, they were kindred spirits. Lost in their own fields of fog created by broken memories and deference to a doomed future, respectively.

"Of course I don't trust her: I trust that you know she doesn't lie, my dear Aurelia," Jonas's reply came right away, his coldness logical and expected of someone in his position, causing Tristessa to abandon her meditation for another time. "Did she lie when she said the Coven is coming to Entrana? Did she lie when she said they seek to kill the Mercer-Archeos?"

"No, but… I…"

"Aurelia. You've overseen End-World for eleven years, and you never doubted your prodigious ability to distinguish truth from lies… Is today the day that confidence will waver? Not against bankers, military leaders, nobles… But against a girl with amnesia?"

"Of course not! I trust myself, Jonas! But don't you see how convenient is this?!" With an accusing finger, she pointed at Tristessa, causing Stormcrow to move a couple of steps to block her view. And to be the first line of defense against any hostility from that furious woman. "She says she doesn't remember anything about her life, but she did know that the Coven was after the Mercer-Archeos!"

"Aurelia…"

"How did you know that, Irandell? Answer me!"

Faced with the insistence of the Ruler of the Dominion, even Jonas resigned himself to a weary sigh, allowing her to interrogate the gray-eyed girl. She, who was enveloped by a dark aura that brought with it a nonexistent past back to the present.

"…I suffered at the hands of Daiana Mercer-Archeos and her group of psychopaths," was her response, filled with the horror of that loop, worse than any nightmare. She received the silent support of her companions, to whom she had told only a half-baked version; the essence of that fateful event hidden to avoid any hint of a new [Gradient of Madness]. "Jin Mercer found me, amnesiac and all, in the Sea of ​​Trees. He took me into his home, and I promised to save him and his family. Is that enough for you?"

"Are you kidding me, girl? Of course it is not enough! You're hiding more information, it's as clear as day!" The metal of her armor grated with the same fury as the warrior it protected. The night light of the Twin Moons filtering through the windows gave the She-Dragoon a ghostly and beautifully menacing air, and her frustration drove her toward Tristessa, only to come face to face with her secret lover. "Get out of the way, you shit-loving bird."

"…with my lord present among us, your words carry no weight, Lady Eramisaptor."

"Damn you! My word is EVERYTHING in End-World!" she roared. "I am Aurelia Eramisaptor, and you will respect me!"

But before the She-Dragoon could lay a hand on the Wraith, someone let out a controlled, ironic laugh, its echoing subtly around them. A mocking sound that stopped the violent woman in her tracks.

"You're just looking for an excuse to imprison Tristessa, Lady Eramisaptor. Her and us. You care about nothing but your own justice, not that of others. You're a hypocrite."

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