Aftermath outside the cell.
In a well-kept room, with a hand-woven tablecloth overseeing the (one) piece of furniture where the people gathered, a particularly old man stood out from the rest.
With eyebags weighing down on his already wrinkly expression and a rather messy complexion, he drank a glass of water. His grip threatened to falter two times, but fortunately it didn't.
Slumped down on the chair, this one aimed his eyes towards a group of eight people. Mostly humans.
One of the two non-humans in the room, a tall, almost white skinned demon wearing some rather humble rags, cleared his throat confidently.
"M-my Monarch… We-"
"Spill it out, Ahabell."
"... After the Prince's assassination attempt, the Grand Council requested a meeting. As you may know, we had to send Queen Mayenla Orwell in your stead due to your… condition."
Maximilianus' breathing remained erratic yet silent. His eyes fiercely glared at the speaking demon, one of his personal advisors.
One who betrayed not only his own school's ideals, but the entirety of Teutonia.
"... They have reached a conclusion: The war must continue-"
The monarch's eyes widened ever so slightly, but… His hands shook uncontrollably. And his breathing worsened.
It took him ten seconds to partially recompose himself.
"Repeat… What you just said."
"Monarch, it'd be better if-"
"REPEAT IT, NOW!"
Orwell's voice easily reverberated throughout the space, even vaguely reaching the entirety of the building.
"... The Grand Council declared that we will continue to fight against Teutonia. And any other issues will be considered secondary concerns… Besides the investigation of the Prince's assassination attempt and the execution of the perpetrators, that is."
Orwell slowly rose from the chair. Under the scrutinizing gaze of his advisors, he felt his heart beating at an awfully fast rate. To make matters worse, the mind pulsated in a similar manner.
"This… This has to be a joke. A horrible one, in a less than appropriate moment! Yes, t-that must be it…!"
Shivers ran down Ahabell's spine, as the blabbering monarch almost stumbled around. The head maid emerged from the shadows, holding two apple-like fruits with a golden skin.
She walked up to the old man, shoved one of those fruits into his mouth, and he ate it. He spent the next ten seconds digesting the fruit and calming himself down.
With her default resting bitch face, she left the room wordlessly.
"I apologize for that. Whoever is next, please… continue."
"According to our associates, the residents of our capital don't seem to be doing particularly well. After the events that took place on the 31st of Ocheon…"
The woman speaking took a mini-break, then continued. "... Many civilians show signs of distrust in our ability to protect them, groups of merchants have chosen to leave and re-settle in other places, and even a few seem to openly support the clans. Fortunately, the sentiment in the last case is only seen in young people."
Maximilianus' gaze remained ice-cold.
"I see. Next."
The third individual, a blond elf with an eyepatch, gave the present people a summary of sorts about the clans' movements.
Heavenbreaker, a clan that is rumored to have ties to a few organizations from Himperlon, attacked multiple wagons belonging to the Merchants' Guild.
Scarlet's Tear, a clan of assassins that took the lives of multiple particularly influential businessmen. After communicating that the Adventurers' Guild is planning to investigate that issue, he moved on to the last one in the report.
Buried Shovels.
According to him and two other advisors, this clan had been particularly active in the slums. But that's about it.
"That's it? Seriously?"
"Unfortunately yes, Monarch. We didn't manage to gather much information involving them, considering our forces were spread too thin…"
Orwell sighed, and accepted his words.
"I understand. Anything else to report?"
The last one merely mentioned that monster attacks had grown particularly tough on the towns near the outskirts, and even the cities. To which the monarch nodded his head.
"Thanks, all of you… Now, you may leave."
Eight of them nodded, and left. Ahabell stayed behind for a moment, and asked the man to take care of himself. The answer he got is that he would.
And so, the advisors left the leader of Fegendale fully alone. He waited for ten seconds.
"... Mary. How much information did they skip?"
The head maid of the palace reappeared from the shadows, and casually strolled around.
"A bit. They willingly left out Randall's condition, and a lot of information regarding some new clans."
A rather dull expression took over the ruler's face, almost as if he didn't feel surprised. In fact, he didn't seem to be thinking of anything in particular.
"... Is he dead?"
"No, he's in a coma. The fact that he survived is a miracle in and out of itself, but…"
"But what?"
"According to the royal healer, he's living proof that miracles do exist. That attack didn't do anything, besides leaving him unconscious. In due time, she believes that he'll be able to go back to a 'normal life'."
The elder struggled to put together a sentence. As for the maid, she maintained a simple poker face.
"I sort of expected that something like this would happen, but… Not to this extent."
Two eyes turned into slits upon hearing that. Orwell sighed, and realized that it was up.
"... Sister, do you remember the summoning process?"
She nodded. "That took up a massive amount of resources and manpower… All for a crazy theory."
"A theory that one of the Flame Saint's apprentices came up with. One with affinity towards the Space element."
"Still insanity."
The monarch sighed, and continued. "Regardless, it worked… But I doubt we'll be able to do it ever again."
"Why?"
"I checked up with the mages, and… They said the 'connection' had severed."
She shrugged, and they both kept quiet for a while.
"If that's it, I guess I'll be leaving."
However, Orwell called out his sister's name once more. "Wait, one last thing. Do you remember that ceiling I told you about?"
"What about it?"
"... I can't feel it anymore. It's like it somehow disappeared."