"A request for aid? My, my. Surely you understand the current predicament of Aetherion, don't you? We are hardly in a position to offer assistance to an allied nation at the moment."
"Yes, of course. We understand the severity of your circumstances. But this matter does not concern Zyphran alone. It concerns the entire continent. We have already sent delegates to the neighboring Empires as well."
"...."
Franz's eyes narrowed at the Zyphran diplomat's words.
Seated upon his throne like the iron ruler he was, he scrutinized the man below him in silence.
"So," Franz said at last, his voice calm and deliberate, "you've come seeking help from an Empire still licking its wounds?"
The diplomat met his gaze calmly.
"Yes," he said. "Because whatever is stirring in the sea will not stop at Zyphran's borders."
Franz's pupils turned to Vanitas, who was standing beside him. His advisor. His right hand. The man Aetherion was now openly claiming to be the devil.
