Seated on a maroon couch, cross-legged, head resting on his palm and fingers drumming on his thigh, sat Minho with a bored expression.
"Grandfather," Minho lazily tilted his head toward the man beside him—a person who bore an uncanny resemblance to himself.
The similar-looking man appeared youthful, like someone in his late twenties. His skin was unblemished, enviably untouched to the weathering that comes with age. His long neon-green hair was neatly pulled back into a bun, which indirectly emphasized his handsome features.
To top it all off, he wore a black and white kimono, marked on his left breast was a sigil: a simple wavy circle, with a sword tethered into it from the top.
However, in contrast to his youthful shell, the man's crimson eyes were deep and consuming.
They lacked the naïveté and recklessness of youth, rather they held a distinctive maturity that only came from age and experience.
This was Minho's grandfather.
The council head.
The very same man who had strong-armed Livia into submitting to this entire arrangement.
"Yes, Minho?" The man said in a gentle tone.
"Wasn't Livia supposed to be here an hour ago—or are we just early?" Minho loudly exasperated, uncrossing his legs and sinking deeper into the couch.
The Council Head nodded subtly, a flicker of annoyance passing through his eyes.
"She may be a little 'late,' yes. But don't let your feelings get ahead of you." He let out an airy, unamused laugh.
"I assume…no—I know she's employing a cunning timeless mental tactic to shake your morale. And when they finally arrive, you, after seeing them, will stir from the storm of emotions currently eating away at your mind."
"At first, you'll feel disbelief. You might think along the lines of 'Are these bastards really being serious!?', or something like that, then you will begin to feel anger—that's exactly what she wants. And since you have, dare I say, a predictable personality, it isn't hard to assume you'd ignite into a mess of uncontrollable impulse-driven emotions. That loss of control, stacked with your impatience, will tarnish your focus in the long-game. In short you will see red."
This mental ploy was the very same one Miyamoto Musashi had used on Sasaki Kojirō during their infamous duel.
Let me give you a run down.
Miyamoto Musashi's greatest rival, Kojirō, arrived early at the location for their duel, he was impeccably dressed and armed with his greatest armament.
Kojirō had nitpicked his whole wardrobe, creating this whole fashion show out of respect for his rival.
The natural thing to do.
As the story goes, Musashi arrived several hours late, appearing disheveled and unkempt. He was apparently ferried to the island in a rundown small boat, and his 'sword', was a broken bokken that he had crudely crafted from a boat oar on the journey over.
His deliberate lateness and orchestrated appearance had worked, Kojirō and the officials were furious—thrown completely off balance.
Blinded by rage or deep hurt, Kojirō charged with reckless abandon.
Nodachi in hand Kojirō swung his sword towards the unruly Musashi.
But Musashi's makeshift "sword" was already in motion.
One decisive blow to Kojirō's head from Musashi later and the duel had ended.
Musashi won.
Was Musashi's method cowardly? Absolutely.
But who won?
Miyamoto Musashi.
Dismissing his grandfather's comment about his personality, Minho sat up straight, his eyes widened supposedly, and jaw slacked as he looked at his grandfather.
"Grandfather, are you sure about this?"
"Sure?" he sneered smugly.
"No, I know she's doing this, since I'd do the same." The council head mused, his natural cunningness shining through.
Minho took a deep breath, trying to calm his rising frustration.
'How sly!' he thought, anger simmering.
'If what grandfather's saying is true, then I would have had a self-inflicted disadvantage during the—'
Knock!~
Knock!~
Knock!~
The sharp knocks pulled Minho out of his thoughts.
"You may enter." The council head chimed.
~~~
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Hearing the cue, the bandaged silver-haired attendant pushed open the massive wooden doors. She held them open as Livia and Rue stepped inside. With a polite bow, she slipped out and closed the door with a soft—
Hearing the greenlight to enter, the bandaged silver-haired attendant pushed open the large wooden doors in front of her.
The attendant held open the door as Livia and Rue stepped inside. With a polite bow, the woman slipped out and closed the door with a soft—
Click…
With a dull click, the door closed behind them.
Looking around the study, Rue began to observe its entrails.
All four walls including the ceiling were all clad in a bookshelf that stretched across their tapestry's entirety.
Each of these bookshelves were full to the brim with countless leather bound books forcibly shoved in order to accommodate the rest.
The only illumination within the room came from the many dimmed golden orbs that scattered weightlessly throughout the air.
Within the center of the study, were two parallel twin maroon couches separated by a glass coffee table.
Two similarly looking green-haired men sat on one of the couches.
'Nice place,' Rue thought.
He glanced back to the couch.
He blinked.
One of the men was suddenly gone.
'Huh?'
"Ahh, Livia, it's a pleasure you finally decided to grace us with your presence." Came the same voice which had allowed them in.
The missing man had teleported before them, extending his hand welcomingly.
"The pleasure is all mine, Council head, Walter." Livia said smoothly.
She accepted his hand and gave a polite peck on top.
The council head repeated the same action, taking her hand and planting a peck atop.
With pleasantries aside the council head spoke, "Please take a seat." Walter said, returning to the couch, taking his seat. "Make yourselves comfortable."
Both Livia and Rue followed suit.
"Would either of you like something to drink before we begin? Or shall we skip the pleasantries?" he offered.
Before Rue could open his mouth to speak, Livia had already cut in.
"We'll pass," she said in a mock-gentle tone that left no room for argument.
The council head smiled, lacing his hands together.
"Then we shall begin."