A day has passed since the slaughter at Niflheim, but the atmosphere continues to remain heavy with grief and sorrow.
Team Beta is on standby, and outside the gates, rows of knights stand at a rigid attention, their eyes are fixed on the horizon as the heavy iron bars groan open.
The sharp blare of trumpets cuts through the silence. Lady Katrina, the Vice Leader, rides in with a grim entourage. Following close behind is the Investigative Guild's Squad Two, a team specially known for finding the truth, regardless of who it affects.
The procession reaches the Captain's office. Cordius stands by the window, he bows his head in a silent greeting as the guests enter.
Katrina dismounts quickly. she is tall and slender, her armor buffed to a mirror finish, bearing the silver emblem of the high-ranking Vice Leaders. A katana hangs at her hip, the hilt worn from years of use. She steps into the office and removes her helmet. Her short, wild blonde hair spills out, framing an oval face and a single, piercing green eye. A blue patch covers her left eye, one of the great testament to battles past.
Cordius looks forward, "Lady Katrina," he does a subtle bow.
"Sir Cordius."
The acknowledgement is very brief. The room is crowded now, smelling of old parchment and cold steel. Documents detailing the disaster are scattered across Cordius's desk next to his manaphone. His sword and shield hang on the wall, looking like relics of a man who was whole only forty-eight hours ago.
Cordius begins, "Welcome," his voice is steady despite the fatigue. "I called you here to discuss a greater threat. Something that..."
"Excuse me," Captain Markus of Squad Two interrupts,
"I am here to retrieve Lady Cynthia, he steps forward. He looms over Cordius;
"I'm not interested in a post-mortem lecture. Your team's inadequacy got one of our finest killed."
Cordius doesn't flinch, and slowly reaches across his chest, rubbing the bandaged stump where his left arm used to be.
"Cynthia was my friend, Markus. If I had known what we were walking into, I wouldn't have sent her. I wouldn't have sent anyone."
"Get to it, Cordius," Katrina orders, her voice sounding cold.
"Yes, Lady Katrina." Cordius leans into the chair "Two nights ago, we encountered what I believe to be demons, or products of demonic power. Our opponents displayed abilities that defy our records of alchemy or beast arts. Quick reflexes. Rapid attacks. Near-instant regeneration. They moved smarter and faster than any Captain could track."
The room is deathly quiet. Cordius continues, his voice dropping low. "They performed a ritual in Niflheim. They slaughtered an entire village and killed Sir Lockwood without triggering a single alarm. To kill a knight of Cynthia's caliber... they are a continental threat."
He looks at Katrina. "Should I bring my team in to verify the details?"
"That won't be necessary," Katrina says, standing up abruptly. "This information will be forwarded to the Roundtable immediately. The safety of the realm is our priority, and their response will dictate how the guilds proceed."
"You're leaving?" Cordius asks, stunned by the brevity of the visit.
Katrina turns back, "as I said on the phone, the Leader is unavailable. I am holding her seat at the Roundtable this week while coordinating the other squads. My time is not my own."
Cordius shows her out, watching the dust kick up as her team departs. When he returns to the office, only Markus and his investigators remain.
"Follow my Vice Captain to the morgue," Cordius tells them, his voice weary. "Cynthia will be released to you there. Send my regards to her family. Tell them we will find the killers." They all nod in unison.
When the last of them leaves, Cordius finally sinks into his chair. He stares at the ceiling, his mind drifting back years to the dust and heat of the knight trials.
"You have a strange affinity type," a teenage Cynthia had said, her wild hair damp with sweat as she grinned at him. "I'm Cynthia."
"Cordius," he replied, shaking her hand.
He closes his eyes, and lets out a long sigh
Evening falls, casting long shadows across the Team Beta hostel. The room is full of dead silence until Hendrix finally speaks.
"How is everyone holding up?"
No one answers.
Layla leans by the wall, "I know we're sad," her voice cracking. "But we really gave it our all."
"And it wasn't enough," Edward growls from the corner.
"I'm not sure those things were even mortal," Vlad adds, looking at his hands.
"But sitting here sulking won't change the fact that they're still out there."
Skye suddenly stands up, "I am tired of the sound of your voices. I'm going to the training hall." She grabs her gear and storms out. One by one, the rest of the team stands to join. Custos follows Hendrix out, handing him his sword. "Wait up. I need to do something."
He runs back into the hostel, the room is now empty. He picks up the picture of Viola, staring at it for a long beat.
"I said I'll return to you," he whispers. "And I will. I'll be someone you can be proud of."
He reaches into his base layers, pulling out a silver necklace engraved with the names of his parents: Titus and Claudia Sol. He kisses the cold metal and tucks it back against his skin.
He kills the lights and slams the door.
"Wait for me!" Custos yells, sprinting down the hallway to join his team.