The study was drenched in a violet dusk glow, the tall windows pulling in the last scraps of daylight. Heavy velvet curtains framed the glass, swaying slightly from a draft that carried the scent of cold stone and old wood. A chandelier of wrought iron hung low from the carved ceiling, its bulbs flickering like tired stars. The desk—an enormous block of dark oak—dominated the room. Papers, quills, an open ledger, and two crystal cups were arranged with the kind of precision that suggested long habits.
Tally Score gestured to a chair across from him.
"Have a seat."
Siah remained standing, jaw taut. His gaze roamed the room—the towering bookcases, the antique clock ticking above them, the polished models of Tessels trapped behind glass. This bastard doesn't know how to get to the point, he thought, irritation curling in his chest.
Tally Score's smile warmed, polite and patient.
"I have no ill will toward you. In fact, one of my goals aligns with yours. We have much to discuss."
Only then did Siah settle into the chair, leaning back slightly as if to keep distance. Tally Score uncorked a bottle of deep red wine, the rich scent curling through the air. He poured two cups, slid one toward Siah with gentle care.
Siah didn't touch it.
Tally Score let out a raspy chuckle.
"It's not surprising Michael kept you a secret from STALE. He admired the Red Bane. Unfortunately"—his smile thinned—"she probably didn't even know he existed."
The sneer came naturally to Siah. He raised the cup and swallowed everything in one sharp gulp, wine burning warmth down his throat.
"I didn't come here to listen to your sob stories, old man. Tell me about the job offer—and what plans of yours align with mine."
Tally Score's expression twitched with annoyance.
"The Red Bane was a major figure in STALE—one of the Four Molds under The Lamb of God."
Siah's brows dipped.
"Why does he call himself that?"
Tally Score poured another measure of wine, the liquid glimmering in the lamplight.
"The Lamb of God is not human. It's an Acme status HUE beast."
The words struck Siah enough that he stilled.
"You worship it?"
Tally Score downed his drink, coughing rough and low.
"I am not qualified."
Siah's confusion lingered, but Tally Score let silence absorb it before continuing.
"STALE is the largest cult on Dyson. Each of the Four Molds oversees a hemisphere. Your mother was incha charge of the Eastern Hemisphere—the hardest one, given the big three Empires. It's… not simple to place to manage cult affairs."
His tone dimmed.
"The cult leader entrusted each Mold with a Code Black Totem— Extinction threat relics on the scale of Status Nine and even Acme Stillness abilities. Tools to maintain balance with the big three Empire's. Weapons, if necessary."
Siah felt the wine buzz behind his eyes, his patience thinning.
"How are you tied to all this?"
A muscle along Tally Score's jaw tightened.
"I never met the Red Bane. Very few have—and those who did ended up like Michael… worshipping her. When I began at Moonshine Express, her Sacrificial spree had already begun."
He reached beneath the desk and pulled out a sealed contract, setting it between them.
"Before that spree, she already had… vile tendencies. But after meeting The Lamb of God, those tendencies worsened. Some say she discovered a truth. Regardless—she began plotting against the other Molds, stealing their Code Black Totems, and then she… escalated her terrorism throughout Dyson. She made a desperate attempt to skip Status Nine and reach Acme directly. A suicidal breakthrough no one in history had ever succeeded at."
Siah's grip tightened around his cup. Silence weighed heavy.
"Crew County and the Eidolon Pantheon intervened. They subdued her. But Numen Acasta—the Fallen Acme of the Shurur Empire—intervened before they could kill her. She was imprisoned instead, in the Equitentiary."
The name jolted Siah's enthusiasm.
"What kind of man is Numen Acasta?" Siah asked, teeth clenched.
Tally Score exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself.
"Information about Acmes is mostly rumor and myth," he began. His tone quieted. "But Fallen Acme Numen Acasta is different."
He glanced at Siah, measuring his reaction.
"He is from our time. In his youth, he became infamous—known for both his cunning and his madness."
Tally Score's eyes darkened.
"His mother, Aileen Acasta, was born in the Shurur Empire back when it was still under the Grelon Empire. When she was young, she worked as a servant."
He paused, emptying his wine cup.
"Later, she was sold. A Grelon noble—one who had impregnated her with Numen Acasta's sister, Celeste Hubris—sold her to the brothels of the Antilla Islands."
Siah's jaw tightened.
"Aileen eventually owned the very brothel she was sold to," Tally Score continued. "And she became known for her cruelty."
His voice lowered.
"After her execution by Crew County, Acme Numen Acasta disappeared. No one knew where he went."
A faint Awe, showed in Tally Score's expression.
"When he returned—he had become an Acme. And only twenty-one years old."
Siah straightened his seating posture.
"He took over Shurur changing it from a Grelon territory to his own Empire. Turned the Antilla Islands into its colony, now a God he goes by the All Mighty to those who worship the Solity Spirit of his Solity Pantheon."
Tally Score looked away, almost troubled.
"Breaking through to Acme takes thousands… millions… sometimes billions of years. His case is… impossible."
He spoke the last slowly:
"In the scriptures of the Eidolon Pantheon, the act of becoming Acme is described as 'as elusive as a child being born neither male nor female.'"
Silence settled.
Siah's lips curled— with admiration burning sharp in within in heart.
"So you want to use me to locate the Code Black Totems. Get into STALE's good graces."
Tally Score shook his head.
"STALE has already searched and investigated you after Michael made the report. The task was even taken by the Mold now in charge of the Eastern Hemisphere. And your father— is just an ordinary ract-stone miner. The only mystery… is that the Red Bane chose to have children in the situation she was in."
Siah's stare hardened.
"So there's nothing special about my father."
"Yes and no," Tally Score admitted. "He was one of her Sacrifices. But somehow he survived. STALE believe the Red Bane kept him alive specifically to make you and your brother."
Siah's breath stilled in his chest.
"Why hasn't STALE dealt with us?"
"Because this is the prophesied age of Santis Grelon's return," Tally Score answered quietly. "They fear drastic actions could hasten it."
Relief loosened Siah's shoulders—only a degree.
"So they've decided to use me?"
Tally Score nodded.
"I moved quickly to offer you a position before others did. With STALE watching you… aligning myself with you opens my path into STALE as you rise."
Siah smirked.
"So why not let me be the boss of Moonshine Express?"
Tally Score barked out a laugh.
"You were flung out of a carriege by your brother—a Status One Stillness—and you think you're ready to run the number one smuggling network on Dyson?"
Siah's confidence dimmed.
Tally Score stood, sliding the contract closer.
"I'll help you cultivate your Stillness. And I'll teach you how to navigate Sacrifices your evil spirit demands. Transporting my goods will give you real experience around Dyson—real fights—growth and then you can free the Red Bane."
Siah's throat tightened. His fingers hovered over the parchment.
Then he reached for the contract.
---
Gourmand, Mournmound
The road narrowed into a winding muddy path, damp from last night's mist. The morning fog still clung low to the grasslands, curling around fence posts and drifting over the uneven trail. Each footfall kicked up the scent of wet earth.
Alden stopped and turned sharply, his breath uneven. Behind him, Theal lagged several paces, shoulders rising and falling in strained rhythm.
"Academy princess, you're slowing us down," Alden called, voice clipped.
Ewan didn't bother to look back. His tone came out cool and flat.
"Alden. If you have a problem with his speed, carry him."
Halric snorted, the sound warm even through the metal helm that hid his expression. His sandy blond hair was tied back loosely, strands brushing the black steel collar of his armor.
"Alden is tired—and using Theal as his excuse," he said.
Alden clicked his tongue and straightened. His dark hair was damp with sweat, sticking to the back of his neck beneath his helm.
"Then the two of you can explain to Sir Dante when he reaches Gulp Village and finds our task incomplete—because you let the Academy princess take breaks."
Theal finally reached them, chest heaving. He managed speech between ragged breaths.
"Rushing like this will drain our Hue. If we run into enemies—or Hue Beasts—"
Alden cut him off with a dismissive scoff.
"Speak for yourself. Status One Stillness. The three of us have ten times more Hue Nits than you."
"Theal only became a Stillness recently," Ewan said. His brown hair ruffled as a breeze swept through the pasture. "His efficiency in Hue manipulation to enhance his speed and senses is still lacking its not surprising he is unable to keep up. Captain put him with us for a reason."
Alden didn't reply. He simply pushed forward, boots pounding the road with harsher force than before.
Halric gave a short exhale—the closest thing to laughter.
"I'll carry him to the Arms River," he said. "Ewan, you take him from there. Theal has a point—if we meet eith danger on our way to Gulp Village, he needs strength to defend himself."
Ewan offered a short nod and lengthened his stride.
Halric turned to Theal, his voice lifting in attempted levity.
"So—princess carry, or on the back?"
Theal didn't respond to Halric's joke attempt. Halric sighed but bent anyway, allowing Theal to climb onto his back. Once secured, he surged forward in a swift burst of speed, his movements fluid.
"You live around here?" he asked over his shoulder.
"No," Theal replied, voice steadying. "My village is closer to the City."
Halric let out a low groan—dissatisfied with the lack of conversation—and accelerated until he caught up with the other two.
---
Smoke began to stain the sky long before they reached the informal settlement. As they drew closer, the scent of charred wood and burnt livestock clung to the air. The ground was littered with the blackened remnants of homes—shattered beams still smoldered, embers crackling faintly beneath ash.
Ewan slowed, the subtle slump in his shoulders betraying what his sealed helm could not.
"It looks like tainted Hue Beasts passed through here," he murmured. "We should search for survivors."
Alden let out a humorless laugh, jagged and sharp.
"Are you out of your mind? Our mission is to protect taxpayers in Gulp Village. These people—" his spit in disgust "—contribute nothing."
Halric's steps halted. The silence around him shifted—tense, heavy.
"Alden. You call yourself a knight of the Eidolon Pantheon?"
Theal spoke before the argument could spark.
"If the Hue Beasts came through here, Gulp Village is next. And its population is far larger. Time is against us."
Ewan exhaled, long and resigned.
"Then go. All of you. I'll search alone. If any fled, they may have gone to Gulp Village. I'll catch up."
Alden muttered something under his breath and moved on without looking back.
The three continued until the land sloped downward toward the Arms River—its waters wide and restless, reflecting the dull grey sky. The long wooden bridge that once spanned it was shattered—its broken beams bobbing among bodies caught in the current. Some had washed to the riverbank, pale limbs tangled in reeds. The air smelled of river silt.
Halric lowered Theal to his feet.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Alden spat into the river, and launched himself forward in a burst of speed—racing toward the distant large wooden walls of Gulp Village.
Halric's stance stiffened, the tilt of his head betraying grief. But Theal's voice was steady.
"Sir Halric," he said quietly. "The dead cannot be saved. The living await us."
Halric inhaled.
"Right," he answered.