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Like a river, silence flowed between the two of them as they waited, together.


It was only in the absence of the others that Jonah realized that he had actually liked it when there were others to see what was going on with the war. Their comments, reactions, and whisperings were all things that he had relied on to escape the spiraling pit of fear that had almost swallowed him every time something unexpected had happened.


Now, it was just the two of them, and Jonah hated it. He hated the way she was staring at the center of the room, waiting for the flower of destruction she had planted to bloom. He hated the way a small smile was still playing on her face as she knew that her move was truly novel. He hated the buzz of conversation from the remnants of the third wave who were standing outside, waiting for her permission to enter, and above all… he hated her wit that might just have reversed the position of the Church.


As the minutes passed, he did see cracks in the mask of confidence she had put on once again. Every time the buzz outside grew louder, she would glance at it with hatred and bloodlust. Every time Jonah let out a dejected sigh after thinking about the perfect move she had just used, she looked at him and seemed to remember the shadow of her death that had been given life by his disciple.


She had barely managed to escape it, and she was waiting to see whether she had been successful in casting it back on the very person who had created it.


When light finally flashed at the exact spot she was looking at, a shiver went through Jonah's body. It was bright, but to him, it looked like it was filled with darkness.


Bent over with age, a man with a long, wispy beard appeared in the room. He looked around almost blindly, his beady eyes clouded over by the mist of the years he had spent alive.


He had to scan the room twice to find the Bishop, but surprisingly, she said nothing even though the way her mouth twitched betrayed the impatience that she was feeling. When he finally did spot her, he gave a start and took a step back.


10 seconds. That was how much time he needed to recover from that moment of shock. Jonah knew because he had started to count to distract himself from the news that the man was bringing, but alas, they passed too quickly.


He then opened his chapped lips and had to smack them three or four times before the words finally came from his mouth. His voice was high-pitched and wavery, but Jonah hardly noticed this as he quickly tried to comprehend what the man was saying.


"Out of the 56 prominent families that the hostages belong to, 22 have responded to your plea for help and have pledged reasonable amount of resources from their own coffers to be used to rescue their scions. The rest who remain undecided are standing by to listen to you. Would you like to-"


"Yes! Right now!"



The old man blinked and narrowed his eyebrows slowly as the Bishop snapped at him, but after a few more seconds, he nodded and disappeared. No one came in his place, but the projector kept blinking which meant that whoever was on the other end was listening even though they had decided not to show themselves.


One end of the Bishop's mouth lifted in derision as she saw this, and when she spoke, it was in a cold tone that could make even a man sitting in front of a fire shiver.


"Esteemed ancillary families of the Church. First, I must thank you for responding to my desperate call for assistance. You have not decided yet whether you wish to step in, and I thought that it be best if you understood the situation clearly before making your decision. For most of you, the sons and daughters who are endangered now might not be the heirs that you are most concerned about, but you still hold them in high regard as they were sent to the Church on account of their talent. They are all in the enemy's hands… and I must admit that I have been disingenuous with you. I was the one who freely gave them away… and if you do not make your decision in my favor, I will also be the one to ensure that they will not return, alive, to the Mainland."


For the briefest of moments, there was a hush as she freely admitted her crime. Confusion marring his face, Jonah stared at the woman who got a crazy grin on her face as pandemonium broke out among all those who were listening to her.


The cacophony of angry shouts and threats all meshed together, making it impossible to clearly make out what anyone was saying. There was a common domination among them all, though, and it had something to do with drinking her blood.


Seeing the scene, he was reminded of his own reaction when he had seen all those commanders tied and chucked in the direction of Angaria. It had almost taken an eternity to slowly stand up and move closer to the projection to see whether he wasn't dreaming, and when she had returned and found him there, with his hand outstretched to see whether the projection was real, she had laughed so loudly that the sound had echoed repeatedly in the chamber.


"While they try to puzzle out the meaning behind my move, I'll finish the process of having backup sent over. I don't really care even if they die as long as the reinforcements leave the Church… and after I win the war, I'll have enough time to deal with the fallout. How did you like my surprise, dear master?"


Her scarlet eyes that had been filled with equal parts of loathing and glee had made him want to start cursing at her and the heavens, but she had shut him up and begun the waiting period that had ended with the arrival of the old man.


Coming back to the present, he saw that all of the shouts had started to quiet down as all those on the other end seemed to have realized that they would find no answers if they continued to threaten her life. She rose when silence fell upon the room again, the tresses of her long gown sweeping the floor on which the bodies of the analysts she had killed still bled ceaselessly in witness to her brilliance.


A few mutterings that had persisted also stopped when they saw that she was about to continue, and this time, the coldness was replaced by the sharp edge of arrogance.


"It's quite simple. No one cares about how it happened. If you do not choose to help me now, it will become known throughout the Mainland that esteem families such as those you belong to have chosen to value a few resources that mean nothing to you over the life and death of your sons and daughters. Every year, you send hundreds of them out with their chests bursting with the confidence that they have you behind their back. They fight, they grow, and they come back to replenish your ranks… but if it is revealed all of a sudden that you might choose to sit quietly while they languish in the hands of enemies who are so weak, will they still stay loyal to you? Out of a hundred of them, this thought may not occur to ninety… but do you really wish to risk the loyalty of those 10? Do you really wish to risk your pride? How will it sound if those that oppose you find out that you are so poor that you cannot even help your scions who have been captured by a tiny continent? Won't errant men and women of power flock to them to defeat you? Consider your options well, my lords and ladies. Remember… after the war, I'll be back on the Mainland, so if you wish to quench your anger, I shall await your coming after my return. Please make a decision now, as time is of the essence."


One, two, three, four…


After she stopped speaking, Jonah counted the seconds again. Before he could reach the double digits, though, the sound of her hand slapping down on her throne was heard.


As he saw the rain of curt messages that signified the assured support of each family appear in the middle of the room, he felt like pulling out his hair and screaming to the high heavens with frustration.




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