Chapter 200 – Otto
Below the royal palace, Levy was sitting in front of his father's cell, looking at a broken man. He wasn't injured, not in body, that is. What suffered was his mind. No matter what Levy tried, Vash was crouching in the corner, naked, scratching his arms, his mouth foaming while mumbling about the end of the world, the punishment of the Gods. He was constantly mumbling about how the fire had rained down from the skies, and now the world was destroyed as the Avatar of Ariana herself came down, killing all that stood against it. He only reacted once to his son's voice, looking at him for a brief moment before returning to the same, barely coherent jibberish, unable to come to terms with what happened to him.
"We should go..." Levy sighed, telling the guards accompanying him. "I will come back for you, Dad."
Still, he knew that may not be possible, but he had to try. His meeting with the Countess was postponed, giving him time to try and come up with a plea for his father's life. He just didn't know how well it would work as she was also doing her own visitation, taking a look at her sons as they were returned to her custody. It may very well be that the three will push all the blame to his father, who can no longer defend himself.
Reus, Matilda's firstborn, was in the worst condition of the three. His legs were deformed, beyond broken, probably never letting him stand straight once again. Her best doctors suggested that they should amputate them to prevent further infections or to ease his pain and let him move around much easier in the future. Of course, when Reus heard this, he vehemently protested by bawling and moaning, barely able to put words together to stop his mother from agreeing with them.
Ultimately, she postponed it for now, but it wasn't the only issue Reus was suffering from. Being so close to the explosions, the first volley of the howitzers ruptured his eardrums, and now he was suffering from not only constantly ringing ears but also losing his balance. The only thing that made it not so obvious was the fact he couldn't stand or walk at all.
After letting the doctors make him drink potions that sent him to sleep, she visited her second son, Maximilian, who was more or less healthy. Not counting the fact his jaw was broken, half of his teeth were missing, and his head was in a bind, preventing him from speaking at all. The way he looked at his mother made Matilda remember how he was when he was little, always following her around, loving to cuddle and hug... A little puppy he was... Where did it all go wrong? They said nothing, and Maximilian tried to beg her mother with his eyes, whimpering, but even he knew what they did was not something that could be repaired so easily.
By night, he left the room to visit her lastborn, Bastian, knowing he was finally roused from his coma, but he seemingly suffered from amnesia. He recognized her as his mother, but he couldn't recall anything from his life, only flashes and snippets dating back to his childhood. It was both a blessing and a curse because now he acted like a little kid again, unable to comprehend what he did with his siblings.
"Is there any wine left?" Matilda asked, collapsing to her chair in her bedroom, her head buried inside her palms, the time being closer to sunrise than midnight.
"Five bottles." Pion, her assigned overseer, answered, wearing his military uniform. "You ran out of them, it seems."
"Fuck..." She cursed openly, looking up at him with red, puffy eyes, tears streaming down her face. "What should I do?"
"Why ask me?" Pion questioned, walking to one of the empty cabinets, taking out one of the last bottles, opening it, and handing it over to the Countess.
"You are from Avalon and weren't assigned to me just to be a fancy accessory! I can see they value your opinions! I know you got your instructions!" She almost shouted, refusing to lift the bottle to her lips.
"We handed everybody back to you. It is your rebellion, your issue, your decision. We are just here to help you restore order because you are our ally."
"That isn't helpful! By Ishillian laws, I should also be beheaded, if not, then exiled, for letting it happen!"
"Rough."
Of course, they didn't. The medallion that he showed was something that every noble would recognize, as it was the identification of the Royal Bloodline. This magical artifact was wielded by none others but the highest-ranking mages within the Empire. It was rare to see; generations would go without ever encountering one, yet every noble was made to memorize it... because when it showed up, it was akin to meeting the Emperors of Ishillia.
In reality, he was not just one of the high-level mages but probably one of the strongest ones currently alive in the Empire. His name was Otto the Unfettered, someone who came to power under the rule of his Emperor... Pascal. He was one of the four old men he had awoken from their long sleep, hibernating at different vaults within the Empire until their eventual return, now readying to do their master's bidding.
Of course, Otto knew he first had to return to power. Unlike Pascal, who could be awake throughout the centuries, they were buried with spells, prolonging their lives differently until they were ready to gain actual eternal vitality. After waking up, determining that his body had aged and looked like a raisin, his first move was to find young and healthy people, sucking them dry until finally recognizing his visage in the reflection of the flowing river's water once again. After consuming hundreds of lives, he eventually began thinking about his mission, arriving at the city of Hospet and deciding it would be the starting base of his, keeping himself stable by slowly siphoning off the vitality of the local whores.
"I caught news of rebellion in the North." The woman spoke, still kneeling before her lord. She belonged to an isolated family, descendants of old subordinates of the four mages, taking care and guarding their land where they were willingly buried to hibernate.
"Did one of the others already begin working?" He asked, snorting, but the answer surprised him.
"No, My Lord. This seems to be related to the issue between the two duke families, the Kustovs and Jauwns."
"Aren't the latter already dead?" He asked, finally standing up, tying the towel around his waist, going to the table in his room, and looking down at a detailed map of the region he was responsible for.
"He isn't. He just wholly stripped of all powers and being mentally broken by the Empress."
"Women and their wrath..." Otto chuckled, scratching his chin as he scanned the different regions near him, stretching from the west to the east, from Lacri to Atuvia.
"Let them fight, we can use the conflict as–"
"That is the weirdness, My Lord. The rebellion only lasted for a day. I already sent scouts out because the strangeness of this event suggests foul play. The accompanying rumors are... disconcerting."
"Speak clearly." He ordered her, turning around and looking down at the crown of her head, covered by her chestnut-colored hair.
"There are rumors that the Gods punished the rebels with fire from the sky."
"Nonsense!" He snorted but then began thinking. "It could be mages. If Mirian Ishillia is really that dangerous, she could have rouge mages under her, which could be a problem later on. Use whatever is necessary to get to the bottom of this. Clara! I will entrust this to you. You have a year to accomplish it and report back."
"Yes, My Lord." She bowed, pushing her forehead against the ground before leaving, moving like a cat, silently departing.
"Fire from the skies... Hmmm... Well, I may replicate that. We need to stoke the flames anyway, and let's get this rebellion on the road!"