Ark

"The Jester is dead." The oni-masked lord spoke in a hollow and dull tone toward his numerous superiors, aiming his attention out the glass windows capturing the starlit sky. "Starrosa has not been retrieved yet. What has Polycyclone done to alleviate this situation, may I ask?" He began, intending for a passive-aggressive rhetorical question.

A white-suited man sat in the center of the darkened office, placing his walking cane on his lap. He slicked his long brown hair back, resting his arms against the royal velvet office chair. He removed his iron spectacles and folded them up before slipping it in his collar. He sighed when he was confronted with the oni-masked man's truth. "An honest mistake," He indicated with his French accented tone, twitching his face in frustration after the oni-masked man challenged his authority. "We should have never given the memory fragment to her. The others will not fail you, I promise."

"The company is yours, Stormfield," The oni-masked man pointed out. "Thirty billion for one-hundred percent; that was your deal. My expectations for you and your company vastly exceed the other subsidiaries, but it seems that they are slowly but surely picking up your slack."

"You're testing my patience," Stormfield threatened, rocking his leg as he crossed them over in his chair. "What are you referring to?"

"Yes," The oni-masked man replied, approaching his desk. "I am merely saying that a thirty billion investment, partnered with the greatest technological outbreak since the invention of the light bulb... should guarantee... no... mistakes. What you are suggesting is that your allies in the company are far less serious about succeeding than they have other matters to worry about. Kathuz City, for example. Now that the city has been destroyed, we will have lost an area to conduct our business in."

"Enough-" Stormfield said.

"No, it is not enough," The oni-masked man continued, straightening his suit collar. "The next time you bet your chips on a failure like the Jester, make sure you bet with a little responsibility. Otherwise... I will strip Polycyclone down to the bone and you... will not have a multibillion dollar corporation to rely on. While you're puttering around as the others are doing your work for you, we are delegating our lives around Aries searching for your precious fragments that you lost. And I despise inertion, Vayne."

After straightening his collar, the oni-masked man slowly moved out the double doors of the office. The tension between the two escalated as each step the oni-masked man made shook Vayne's pride and ego, twitching his face at their power dynamic.

When the oni-masked man opened the double doors with both of his glove-laced palms, a hunched back long white-bearded old man waited on the opposite side of the door. He wore a dark-brown and white-striped suit and pants combo with classy black dress shoes. Brown liver spots and sun-stricken side effects of darkened skin patches appeared on his face. The mineral composition walking cane was extraordinarily similar to Stormfield's; a mosaic-themed quartz. He hacked his throat out in pain as the oni-masked man greeted him with a curt bow.

"Let's walk, shall we?" The oni-masked man requested, facing a long comforting hallway with brown carpet and a wooden garnished interior for the walls. The hallway was an art exhibit, displaying distinctive museum-famous paintings across the halls with antique artifacts kept in top shape underneath them. There were multiple other wooden doors with employer nametags engraved on the side, each with a Polycyclone Industries logo on it; a lime-green circular background with a white-colored diamond shape in the center.

He decelerated his pace when strolling with the old man and his walking cane, knowing his speed could not keep up with his natural walk cycle. "I assume your meeting with Vayne did not live up to your expectations," The old man croaked like a frog with his aging voice. "I can feel it too. We cannot afford to lose anymore of our finest in our search for these fragments."

"I'm glad you see it my way as well," The oni-masked man said. "I trust in the man who created the memory fragments, not his immature brother who spends his life making a fool out of himself drowning in wealth. Why did Rion perish, Dyrden?"

"He was too bored with his job. It's as simple as that," The old man known as Dyrden stated. "He died too young. He had potential to carry the company beyond its limits, but he tossed it away after preening in his ability to assimilate with the Fon."

"Your grandson does the same, does he not?" The oni-masked man asked. "Sezan? An absolute preener, that one is."

"Sezan is a mere disappointment as well," Dyrden stated, sighing immediately after. "His methods of obtaining power in Aries is too uncivilized and rash. He has built up a substantial growth of his Japanese 'army,' but he is nothing more than an uncouth thief attempting to reach his goal of striking me down."

"A grudge, that one has. He should have forgotten everything that you have done to him," The oni-masked man stopped in front of Dyrden's office door. "When the time comes, your grandson will no doubt arrive on these steps, eager to clean up what you have left behind. Are you prepared to handle such a task?"

"He will not reach me, I guarantee that much," Dyrden stated. "My position in the company is far too global. If he were to kill me, the entire world would be aiming for him."

"Perhaps he is willing to sacrifice that much," The oni-masked man predicted. "You have left him with nothing but a husk of his former self."

"I suggest you delegate your time to your duty, and less about my grandson and my worries," Dyrden hacked, positioning himself in front of the his office door. He placed his wrinkled hand on his door knob, trembling his hands before so. "I respect your concerns, but isn't it time for you to return home? Or am I mistaken?"

The oni-masked man turned away. Although Dyrden could not observe his facial features, he could sense that something bothered him internally. "It is." His muffled voice came through, walking down the hallway after improperly detaching himself from their conversation. Dyrden watched as he slammed a set of double doors behind him before entering his office.

Etched on the side of his office door was the name: Dyrden Fuma.