5.2 — THE PARCHMENT OF DOOM

FIVE PART TWO

"You need me to be this country's priestess," Verēna stated more than a question.

The Young Minister's lips curled up into a wide smile at her conclusion. "Kaching! You got it!"

Verēna's jaw clenched at the affirmation. The hand holding the parchment fell to her side, gripping it tightly as she imagined it to be the lad's neck. Every single muscle in her body tensed up in control rage. Sensing her growing distress, Del quickly touched the skin around her neck to negate the seething force bubbling inside her—enough to let her spoke again without letting on the spite it held underneath.

"While it's a great honor to be appointed in such seat of high importance, may I inquire why would you choose me among the Seer's disciple? I may have relinquished everything about my previous life once I accepted my fate of eternal servitude to the gods and Seer's extension, but I'm certain you can acknowledged me as the daughter of the council member who was once executed of charged treason to your lineage." She paused to draw a breath.

Bewildered gazes.

Verēna could feel the initial shock at the concession of her previous life five and a half years ago. She refused to acknowledge the astounded expressions of the other lords in the room and solely focused her attention to the Young Minister who seemed to blanch for a brief moment.

"Why, pray tell, Your Excellence?" she continued. "What makes you think I can be trusted? For all you know, I could take advantage of that seat of power and start a revolt. I might even conspire with the neighboring countries just to sate whatever grudge I hold against you. Aren't you afraid I might commit any of those? Don't you think mindlessly asking me to be your Priestess is a bit drastic in your part?"

"Yeah, about that," the Young Minister grimaced, hand rubbing the back of his neck as if the subject dearly disconcerted him. He looked over the lords lounging at the right side of the room. "I think it'll be better if I'd let my cousin talk ab—oh, come on, Kai! Help me out here!" he protested when Lord Kaizo gave him the look.

With a huff, he turned to her again. "Well, it's not an uncommon knowledge among us here that Seer's disciple indeed renounced everything that ties them from their past prior discipleship upon its acceptance. It means that the woman I'm talking to was no longer Lady Hollis Lavine."

Verēna fought not to show any reaction at the mention of her previous name, fully aware of the set of eyes gauging for it.

"I'm talking to Verēna, one of the Seer's chosen disciples. No more, no less," he concluded in a matter of fact tone.

A fact. Every words that rolled out of the young Minister's tongue were indeed an ugly fact. But . . .

"And besides," he added, "we're not our father's mistake, Seer's disciple. I can't hold you accounted for your father's crime. It'll be unfair."

Crime?

Unfair?

Ha!

Was she really hearing this from the cause of her life's past sufferings? The catalyst to her life's complete metamorphosis? The Fates were really taunting her, weren't they?

Verēna's feigned composed appearance broke off at those words. She erupted into a sardonic laughter, shaking her head in the process. Roaming her eyes to each and every one figure in the room, she allowed them to see the dark glint swirling there before it settled on the Young Minister who seemed taken aback by her sudden display of emotion.

"Is that what you always told yourself to have a serene sleep every night, Your Excellence?" Her tone dripped with so much venom that even made Lord Mavi flinched on his spot.

Alessio Magnus Romulus IV. The youngest Minister ever known in Grevus history now had his mouth opened and closed just like a damn fish out of the water.

What a satisfying sight, Verēna reveled.

"Mind your tongue, Verēna!" Lord Nuallan hissed. "That's not the proper way of talking to your—"

"To my ruler?" she interjected, cocking her head. "Perhaps you should also take it upon yourselves to know that we don't answer to anyone, but the gods we served," she evenly emphasized which begrudgingly silenced any potential protest from the lord. "Divinities' vessels aren't bound to any manmade laws and rules. Our fealty solely rest upon the gods' hands and no mortal suzerain can snagged it from us without answering to the Fates."

"Point taken," the Young Minister concurred, earning a slight curling up the side of her lips—amused at how incredibly fast he'd agreed to her notion.

"But Your Excellence!" Lord Nuallan started to protest again, but the Young Minister just shushed him.

"Oh, cut it down, Lord Nuallan. You heard the lady loud and clear. If not, then I reckon it's time for an earwax cleaning."

A snicker sounded at the lounging area to which Lord Nuallan tracked with a sharp glare.

"It's a nature we, of course, respect, Seer's disciple. However," the Young Minister grimly started, "I also expect you to return the favor, so we can coexist with harmony."

"Respect is for the deserving, not for the demanding. I have yet to decide in which category you fall. However, I can only assure you that I'm adept at civility, Your Excellence."

The Young Minister thoughtfully nodded. "Fair enough, I guess. So!" he exclaimed with a clap of his hands, "will you accept it?"

Verēna ruminated the situation. While the Minister was the most important figure that kept the countries interior affairs in check as per the Mighty One's will, Priestesses were then the vital bridges of keeping peace with the neighboring countries. Since too much at stake if a Minister left his turf, Priestesses were deemed as country's official representative for any external affairs. Due to their divine connection, Priestesses opinions were highly regarded, and so were acknowledged as the next critical figure after the Minister.

Grevus and the two more neighboring countries, Merrill and Lithuana, hadn't had one for over several decades. And for a country to suddenly need of one . . .

A storm's brewing.

Her thoughts strayed to her fellow disciple, Kira, who had left a year ago to Merrill. Hestia never told them the reason why they have to leave in Zathras when the time comes. They had been taught of every single thing they must know as Seer's extension, but that was all. She mentally laughed at herself for not anticipating this one coming.

How naïve she was to assume she was merely transporting a vital document for the Minister, when in fact it was the other way around. She unsuspectingly serving herself in a golden platter for a pack of wolves.

Was this it? Was Kira the Priestess of Merrill? And had she agreed, she would be the Priestess of Grevus? And then, Andromeda to Lithuana?

No, no, no. The poor child was still too young to be thrust into such world of vile, greedy men.

No matter how they possessed an ancient wisdom, young mortal vessels could only take a handful of strain. Too much could ultimately cause their demise.

But what was the odds? A storm never came with entourage. It just came whenever it wanted—when it was least expected.

And knowing Hestia, she wouldn't send her to her core enemy's turf by mistake. If there was a lesson she learned from the Seer that would be: nothing happened by sheer coincidence.

A chain to another yet to detangle series of fate-destined events.

For a moment, Verēna was tempted to peer through the young Minister's fate, but immediately dismissed the thought. She could, of course, do and be done with it. Yet frivolously using the gift of precognition entailed a sound mind to take the weight that would come along by knowing the immediate future. With great power came great responsibility, they'd often said. And they were right.

So damn right.

"An isolated place where meditation is possible without worrying of unannounced visitors," she said, handing the parchment to Del who was now hovering in front of her and breaking the Seer's seal.

Verēna left the work to Del while she grabbed the dagger strapped around her exposed left long leg due to the skirt's high slit. She could feel them following her every move, so when she dragged the blade's edge across her left palm, collective gasps erupted in the room in an instant. Del, however, held the unrolled parchment closer to her without flinching. Crimson blood oozed from the inch-length wound in her palm. Curling it into a fist, Verēna let the blood dripped down to the right lower portion of the parchment where the dry crest of Romulus family laid.

Seeing enough, Del hummed in her archaic language and the fresh blood in the document dried in a second before flying towards the young Minister to give it back again.

Verēna actually did it. She literally sealed her fate in cold blood. A non-verbal sign that she'd given her absolute loyalty to the son of the man who ordered persecution to her late father.

The sudden turn of event made her wanted to laugh. It made her sick to the core, but she knew better that as Seer's disciple, personal interests came last after their duty. They were bound by a divine oath. Such ground was being used to his own advantage by the young Minister.

I'd expect no less.

For now, she'd play along with his schemes and see it through the end.

For now.

Tucking her dagger back to its strap, Del hurled back to her side to then attend to her stinging wound. Verēna held it open for the Jeix with a small grateful smile.

"Does this mean . . ." the Young Minister faltered eyeing the parchment with her dry blood in it.

"So long you give my demand, then you get what you want, Your Excellence," she slightly dipped her head.

"All done, gyun!" Del chirped and flew back to her shoulder.

Clenching and unclenching her now good as new hand, she turned to the Young Minister who was sporting a childlike grin. "Consider it done, Priestess. We're looking forward working with you."

"Well, then," she bowed for one last time and turned around to leave. "So long, Your Excellence."

A distinct sharp intake of breath as she pivoted reached her ears, stilling her for a second. She'd almost forgot. A horrendous reminder that her scars were in display for everyone behind her to see.

Holding her head high, Verēna pulled the doors and brisk walked once it slammed behind her.

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