The Corrupted Syndicate

"You... Were afraid of losing me?" quizzed the Viceroy, taking a piece of grilled eel and placing it on the girl's plate.

Although she had agreed to join them for lunch, the dragoness found her appetite dwindling with each passing moment, her thoughts consumed by the looming battle. It had been so long since she'd felt this way...

Why now? Was it Void's words that had shaken her? No. Why should she care about the opinions of a lower Seat? She could crush him beneath the weight of her power if she so desired. His words shouldn't have held any sway over her.

Perhaps it was the thought of Zenos dying. But again, why should that matter? Yes, her alliance with the Northern Cartel would be jeopardized, straining fragile ties. But beyond that? She had nothing to lose. Mavislin reminded herself of that fact.

Zenos wasn't a saint—few would mourn his death. He was a monster, one who had long since embraced his own darkness. A creature powerful enough to withstand the fury of Kur and walk away with barely a scratch.

He slaughtered his own men if they dared step in the way of his battles. Even innocent souls seeking help had been executed, dismissed as "poor sport" in his eyes. A tyrant. Yet, something gnawed at her. Something she couldn't quite shake.

Was this fear she was feeling? Fear of Zenos dying? No, it couldn't be. She was his prisoner, trapped in this place. How could she possibly be afraid for the life of her captor?

Yet this feeling—this emotion, a knot of dread and worry—gnawed at her. It made no sense, and yet it was there, undeniable and unsettling.

Thinking about it made her blood boil... She has gone soft, hasn't she?

"Mavis... Are you feeling unwell?" 

The Viceroy's words barely registered as the girl shot to her feet, slamming her clenched fists onto the dining table with a force that sent her drink spilling across the polished surface.

Her sudden outburst shattered the tense silence in the room, the liquid running over plates and silverware like a dam broken by her anger.

"I hate you... You are a monster..." muttered Mavislin as she stormed out of the room, leaving the Viceroy slightly confused.

"Leave her," said Mattheos, nonchalantly.

"You appeared to grasp the situation from the very beginning. Tell me, why is she behaving so strangely all of a sudden?" inquired Zenos, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, I do, and I usually steer clear of it. You've only known her for a few days, but I've lived and traveled with her for two years. When she gets like this, I give her space—because if I don't, I might not make it out alive."

"She's grappling with things she's never dealt with before, and honestly, she has no clue how to handle it. The reason she can take out targets without batting an eye is that she's shut down all her emotions. It wasn't a choice—it was survival."

"Growing up the way she did, it's the only way she got through. But now, having the freedom to think and feel again has her all twisted up. She's confused, and angry, and doesn't understand why these feelings are creeping up when they didn't before."

"That's why I give her room—to cool off, to think, to sort through it all in her own way," explained the rabbit, thanking the servant for clearing his plates away.

"If so, why don't you help her to understand her emotions?"

"If I stepped in, she'd end up nothing more than a mindless puppet, relying on me every time something came up. That's not the way forward. I'm not going to control what she thinks or feels. She's got to learn how to deal with it herself."

"It's her battle, and no one else can fight it for her."

The Viceroy closed his eyes and sighed, before standing up and leaving the room. To his surprise, Zenos found the dragoness sitting on his bed, looking out the window, back facing the door. Her tail swished about as if she was lost in her own world.

As the Viceroy drew near, a soft, melodic sound drifted from Mavislin, captivating his attention. He couldn't help but marvel at the serenity in her voice, so strikingly different from the turmoil she had displayed moments before.

"The scars and time's traces have been harshly etched upon my skin... Ever still, it weaves through to the lives it's caught... In the spring, cherry blossoms come alive and spread their wings, yet they won't speak a single fact or tale..."

"The season of the snow sakura are blooming in the wind... Shall remain, as a faraway dream. Drifting down, all the petals started singing to me, forever now etched in my fantasy..."