The afternoon sun bled through the arched windows of Avangard's central accounting room, casting long, geometric shadows across the mahogany desk. Ayesha sat enveloped in the scent of aged parchment and fresh ink, her slender fingers methodically sorting through a mountain of incoming ledgers.
Suddenly, her quill paused.
"Well, well..." Ayesha murmured, a slow smile gracing her lips. "It seems Lord Leornars has already begun constructing the dam. If I hadn't intercepted these infrastructure ledgers, even I would have been kept in the dark about his grand architectural designs."
She stood up, the sharp click of her black heels echoing in the quiet room. Removing her spectacles, she wiped them clean, her vibrant purple eyes gleaming with sudden intent. She adjusted a stray strand of her lilac hair and sharply clapped her hands together.
"Right. Time to get serious," she told herself, staring at the empty high-backed chair in the corner. "Lord Leornars left *me* in charge until his return. To be the most useful, I'll just have to steal your spot, Stacian. From this day forward, I am officially stepping up as his lordship's premier personal assistant."
*Click. Creak—*
The heavy oak doors groaned open. A low-ranking undead mage sluffled into the room, its ethereal blue eye-sockets flickering as it bowed low.
"My lady... there is a disturbance in the grand hallway," the undead rasped, its voice like grinding stones. "I cannot sense Lord Leornars's presence nearby, so I have come to seek your guidance."
"A problem?" Ayesha sighed, though her composure remained flawless. "Lead the way."
Stepping out into the corridor, the ambient quiet was instantly shattered by the screeching of tearing fabric and shrill shrieks. Three maids were engaged in a chaotic, undignified scrap, dust and feathers flying.
Ayesha blinked slowly, processing the absolute absurdity of the sight.
"Ladies, ladies, *ladies*," Ayesha purred, clapping her hands rhythmically with every step. *Click. Click. Click.* Her heels struck the polished marble floor with dangerous precision.
The three combatants instantly froze, the scurry ending as they recognized the imposing figure approaching them.
"We are civilized demi-humans, are we not?" Ayesha chided softly, stopping before the disheveled trio. "Let us not lower ourselves to petty, human behavior. It lacks moderation. It lacks class."
"M-My lady!" a cat-folk maid cried out, tears welling in her eyes as she pointed a trembling finger at a human maid cowering nearby. "She is a siren! She seduced and stole my husband, and now she is trying to take my son away from me!"
Ayesha's eyebrow twitched. *Oof.*
"It is the same for me!" a lizard-woman maid hissed, her tail thrashing against the floor. "She took my husband and my son as well!" They both lunged forward, grabbing at Ayesha's cuffs.
*Yikes,* Ayesha thought, her internal monologue frantically spinning. *What is the protocol for a multi-species home-wrecker? Stoning? Or just a really stern scolding?*
"As a woman, you understand our pain, don't you, Lady Ayesha?" the cat-folk maid pleaded.
"Indeed," Ayesha said, offering a practiced, comforting smile. "I am a succubus, so I understand the intricacies of desire and heartache all too well. I feel your pain."
"We stone her!" the lizard-woman snarled, claws extending, while the human maid watched in absolute horror.
"Ladies," Ayesha's voice grew dropped an octave, commanding absolute attention. "I know you are hurt. So am I, to see such discord in these halls. But this violence is a terrible idea. Lord Leornars would never allow this."
At the mention of his name, the maids lowered their heads, genuine regret washing over their faces.
"Lord Leornars built this land for us to live as one," Ayesha continued, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "To be united in glory, not divided by hate. We cannot let resentment blind us to what his lordship has sacrificed for us. The three of you especially—Lord Leornars bought you away from the Dirrium Kingdom when you were shackled in chains. He pulled you out of suffering and into prosperity. He may be young, but he is neither naive nor stupid. He knew that allowing a human into our midst would test us."
Ayesha glanced toward the upper levels of the palace, knowing instinctively that her master was observing.
"Lord Leornars's actions may seem unwise to outsiders, yet his will is the only thing keeping us alive. He shielded us from the Durmount Kingdom. He fought for us. All of you are former slaves, yet he hired you as free citizens. A human king would never allow such a thing. Ladies, let us behave like people who possess morals, not primitive beasts."
Turning on her heel, she swept away, leaving the maids to reconcile in silence.
Upstairs in the master bedroom, Leornars stood before a full-length mirror, viewing the entire exchange through the sensory link of his undead thrall. A sharp throb pulsed behind his eye.
"Ayesha has outdone herself. I am proud," Leornars murmured, adjusting the collar of his fine silk shirt. He turned his gaze to Stacian, who was leaning against a pillar.
"Lord, tell me..." Stacian spoke up, her voice tinged with an unusual gravity. "I've been thinking about something recently."
"Oh? And what could that be?" Leornars asked smoothly, pulling the silk fabric over his shoulders.
"I had a dream," she said, her eyes casting downward. "A strange dream."
"A dream? What kind?"
"That my wings were bound by heavy iron chains," Stacian whispered, her hands tightening against her sides. "They were tied to a massive, golden cage. No matter how much strength I exerted, I couldn't break through. It felt like I was a—"
"A beautiful bird in a golden cage," Leornars finished for her.
Stacian looked up, surprised. "Yes. Exactly that."
"My assumption," Leornars said, walking over to the window, "is that you possess a latent potential that you either haven't unlocked, or something is actively binding it back."
Stacian gave a soft, bitter chuckle. "So I am not even permitted to dream of escaping, huh?"
"Listen to me, Stacian. Everyone has a right to dream. But those dreams must be sensible enough for the *System* to allow them."
"The System?" Stacian tilted her head.
"Indeed. The System is comprised of the people in power. Like how I am a king—I am a functioning gear within that system. I wield power; I dictate the justice of a life, or enforce changes to a nation."
"So the system is governed by a hidden hand," Stacian surmised.
"Exactly. Now, as I was saying... society allows us to dream that all life is fair and just. Society hands us that specific dream because it keeps the machine running. If the masses believe fairness exists, they will keep playing by the rules, keep hoping, keep building. It's a permission slip—safe, distant, abstract. You can dream of justice without threatening anyone in power."
Leornars turned back to her, his expression turning cold and sharp. "Then why are we denied the dream to be free? Because freedom is inherently dangerous. Justice can be measured, debated, and postponed. But freedom is immediate. To be free is to stop asking for permission. Systems do not survive if everyone stops asking for permission. We cannot be truly free if the system itself is fundamentally flawed."
He walked back to his desk, picking up his signet ring. "That is why I do what is needed. The Rurva Kingdom paints me as a devil incarnate. That tiny independent state of Jimkiv views me as a stain upon the world. I am a glitch in their system. That is why my dream of peace is inherently flawed; the world's system simply won't allow it."
"I see," Stacian nodded slowly, processing the weight of his words. "I understand completely."
" We claim to be free yet bound by nation's borders, we claim to have free will yet we are controlled by those in power. All we do is think and think, thoughts allocated to just thoughts are mere self delusional to cope with less self control. It's a matrix of lies governing our minds and core, as hard as you may try you will never defeat yourself on a mind game. It's illogical until one gets out of that comfort zone , stop leaving a lie that reality is fair and accept that pain and growth are necessary for ones evolution and growth" Leornars added swiftly and calmy.
Meanwhile, Ayesha completed her rounds, walking down toward the subterranean storehouses. The cavernous rooms were bustling. Porters were hoisting massive grain bags, their voices joining in rhythmic work-songs. Men, women, and various beast-kin worked side-by-side.
"Avangard truly is developing," Ayesha mused quietly, watching the unified labor. "Lord Leornars conquered Lurtra, and by doing so, we secured an immense workforce for the nation. He seized their trade ledgers, mastering their commerce routes in a single night. Truly, his lordship is fascinating."
Leaving the storage levels, she walked past the grand research laboratories. She looked up at the newly constructed, six-story facility next door and let out a light scoff.
"I might as well take a look. Salene isn't around yet anyway," she murmured.
Her black heels clicked a brisk rhythm on the marble floor as she slipped inside. Through the reinforced glass panels, she watched the research and development team carefully mixing glowing compounds, testing a new strain of medicine while a crowd of eager trainees watched intently behind Salene's chief assistants.
"I guess even that psychopath has a functional workspace," Ayesha whispered, a look of reluctant admiration crossing her face. "It is mesmerizing, to say the least."
Back in the royal chambers, Leornars smoothly slipped his arms through the sleeves of his dark overcoat. Stacian watched him intently as he turned around to face her.
"I once told a foolish king that he was nothing more than a puppet," Leornars said, his voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "Yet I am certain the man died mentally without ever realizing it. A king who must scream 'I am the king!' is no king at all—just a fool sitting on a high chair. A king is only valuable to the world if he is easy to control, and he becomes a threat the moment he thinks for himself. A ruler who allows faceless sycophants to dictate thoughts that harm his own people... he is merely a clown."
"A boat with a hole in the hull," Stacian offered calmly.
"Exactly. What use is a broken vessel?" Leornars sneered.
"So, what is our move regarding the Ashevilliah Kingdom?" Stacian asked, stepping closer. "Are we conquering it outright, or are we placing another puppet on the throne? I was embedded there for a week, but I didn't see a single prince or princess available to manipulate."
"Indeed. I myself have not spoken to the three princesses or the prince," Leornars admitted, his eyes narrowing. "I have deployed my undead into the shadows of the local populace to gather intelligence. There are heirs to the throne, but they are rarely seen in public. Annexing them directly will be difficult. But yes, if it comes down to it, I will reduce the Ashevilliah Kingdom to a vassal state."
Stacian frowned, a sudden chill crossing her features. "We will have to deal with the high nobility first. Specifically, Count Dirik and Count Anasil. Deep down... something tells me one of those two is a monster that surpasses human understanding. Just thinking about them sends a chill down my spine."
"So you felt it too?" Leornars's eyes flashed. "I thought I was the only one. This is a predicament we didn't anticipate. I sincerely hope nothing else goes awry; at the moment, I am dangerously low on mana and adaptive energy."
"Allow me to refuel you," Stacian said without hesitation.
She stepped behind him, placing her palms firmly against his back.
**"[Skill: Laminar Refill]"**
A vibrant, rhythmic pulse of pure energy surged from her hands, flowing directly into Leornars's spiritual veins. The sudden rush of power made his posture straighten.
"You should relax your core before utilizing any active skills," Stacian advised softly, keeping her hands in place. "Otherwise, the sudden influx of raw mana might cause a magical clog against your residual reserves."
"Stacian?" Leornars called out, his tone shifting to something darker.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Tell me... who exactly is Athyria?" Leornars asked, his voice dripping with freezing malice. "She attacked me for no apparent reason and simply vanished. I need answers. Nobody attacks me and walks away alive."
Stacian sighed, lowering her hands. "There is very little records of her. But from what I have gathered over the years, she is one of the Seven Calamities. She is Athyria, the Sin of Greed. Most people believe the Sins are mere bedtime myths, but your recent battle proved their existence. I will delve deeper into the archives for you."
"Hmm. The Sin of Greed..." Leornars muttered internally. *'Althelia, do you know anything about them?'*
A ethereal, feminine voice resonated directly within Leornars's soul core.
*'Let me fill you in on what I analyzed during the clash, Partner,'* Althelia replied. *'Athyria is a pure close-quarters combatant, but her specialized laws—like her skill, Arth—are terrifyingly potent. The Arth skill she deployed wasn't just draining your personal mana; it was actively vacuuming the atmospheric mana from the entire region to starve you out. If the Gatekeeper hadn't stepped in to sever the concept of her law, you would be dead right now. I had to force the Void Reaper form just to deny her attacks.'*
Leornars grimaced slightly. *'That's a bit too much exposure. Tell me, can you replicate or analyze the skill she used so I can wield it?'*
*'I cannot copy it perfectly, but I can synthesize a brand-new sub-skill based on its core matrix,'* Althelia explained, her tone turning prideful. *'It won't look the same, but it will execute the same functions—and perhaps a few extra features. Shall I begin the synthesis?'*
*'Do it,'* Leornars commanded. *'And you can explain the details of the Void Reaper form and the other Sins later. Right now, we must hasten to the Skyvault Citadel.'*
"Are you ready, Lord Leornars?" Stacian asked aloud, noticing his momentary silence.
"Let me grab my coat," Leornars said smoothly. "Oh, and summon the others. I want a full royal entry this time. I am not slipping into the Skyvault Citadel through the back door like a thief."
"Understood. The moment we arrive at the gates, I will summon the vanguard," Stacian said with a faint smile. "I will go ahead and brief them on the formation."
With a soft *pop* of displaced air, she vanished from the room.
*'Synthesis underway,'* Althelia's voice echoed in his mind. *'Creating sub-skill... compressing the properties of 'Arth'. Arth creates a domain of total suffocation. Generating new skill... Skill Name: [Leviathan's Law]. This skill compresses the mana and energy within an opponent's body until it collapses under its own weight. Furthermore, if you combine this with your [Aura of Depravity], we can forge a completely new absolute aura: [Aura of Death]. Shall I proceed with the evolution?'*
*'Yes,'* Leornars thought coldly, staring out the window at his growing empire. *'I need every ounce of power I can grasp before I face Athyria again.'*
*'Understood! Oh, and a quick reminder: you still haven't evolved [Touch of Decay] into [Touch of Rot]. Once fully mastered, it unlocks [Touch of Death]. You really need to grind your lower-tier skills, Partner. Even [Emberfrost] is lagging; it's a great skill, but right now, Athyria would shatter it like glass.'*
*'Remind me after the council meeting,'* Leornars replied. *'Don't worry. Once this is over, I'll allocate enough adaptive energy to manifest your physical form.'*
*'YES! Thank you, Lord Leornars!'* Althelia squealed happily inside his mind. *'I'll work twice as hard to make sure nothing gets in your way!'*
The space in front of Leornars rippled like water, and Stacian stepped out of the void.
"I have returned, Lord Leornars. The elites are assembled and waiting for my signal at the Skyvault coordinates. We can depart at your leisure."
Leornars threw his dark coat over his shoulders, the fabric billowing behind him. His eyes burned with an icy resolve.
"Good," Leornars said calmly. "Let us go."