As the last vestiges of rainwater lingered upon the streets, the city lay shrouded in a tranquil hush beneath the clear, moonlit sky. The once ominous clouds had dispersed, allowing the radiant glow of the full moon to cast its luminous embrace upon the world below.
The moon, a perfect orb suspended in the heavens, bathed the city in its ethereal light, illuminating every corner with a soft, silvery glow. The layer of wetness still clung to the pavement and reflected the moonlight like a thousand tiny mirrors, scattering radiance sparkles in all directions.
Amidst the serenity of the midnight hour, the streets remained deserted, the gentle patter of rain a distant memory.
As Inietta's silent footsteps echoed through the quiet street, a puddle of water shimmered beneath her tread, its reflective surface momentarily disturbed by her passage. The moonlight cast a ghostly glow upon her figure as she made her way towards the towering edifice that loomed before her, its imposing presence dominating the skyline.
Arriving beneath the roof of the grand Colosseum, Inietta paused, her gaze sweeping over the majestic structure. As Blake had informed her, the representative or liaison between Eleventine and Haudensaun awaited her presence here.
Inietta ascended the stairs with purposeful strides, her path unwavering as she made her way to the top floor of the Colosseum. As she reached her destination, she found herself bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of moonlight streaming in from the side, casting a surreal ambience over the space.
Taking a moment to survey her surroundings, Inietta's gaze drifted towards the vast expanse of the arena below. Its grandeur stretched before her, with thousands of spectator seats lining its perimeter. The round moon, suspended in the centre of her perspective, lent an otherworldly quality to the scene, its radiant presence commanding attention amidst the darkness.
Though her eyes beheld the spectacle before her, Inietta's expression remained inscrutable behind the bandages that covered her features. With a sense of purpose driving her forward, she continued on her silent path, her steps echoing softly against the polished floor as she made her way towards her intended destination.
As Inietta traversed the labyrinthine passages of the Colosseum, her determination unwavering, she finally came upon a door that seemed to beckon her forward.
With a silent resolve, she approached, knowing instinctively that this was the place she sought. Her mind churned with calculated thoughts and strategic considerations. Recalling Blake's demeanour and the absence of any indication that her identity as the murderer had been disclosed to Haudensaun, she pondered the possibility that the liaison or individual in charge was intentionally withholding this crucial information.
"I've contemplated this scenario before," she mused inwardly, her thoughts organised and devoid of hesitation. "Regardless, if this person stands in the way of my mission in this city, I will not hesitate to eliminate them."
With unwavering confidence, Inietta pushed open the door and stepped forward, her demeanour poised and composed as she prepared to confront the individual who held the key to her next move in this intricate game.
As the door swung open to reveal the room beyond, Inietta suddenly entangled in a barrage of mana swords and spears raining down upon her with startling ferocity. Despite her deliberate entry without knocking, it became apparent that the person inside was far more prepared than Inietta had anticipated. Caught off guard by the unexpected assault, she stood motionless amidst the onslaught, her expression unreadable behind the bandages that obscured her features.
Despite the deluge of weapons raining upon her, Inietta remained steadfast, not attempting to evade or defend against the onslaught. To her surprise, not a single blade or spear managed to pierce her defences. Each impact reverberated against an invisible barrier of mana layer that surrounded her, causing a shimmering cascade of particles to scatter in all directions upon contact.
As the storm of swords and spears subsided, leaving the weapons scattered around her, Inietta remained composed amidst the aftermath of the attack. From within the moonlit room, a voice spoke, addressing her by name with a hint of familiarity and disdain.
"That little armour of yours is still as troublesome as ever, Inietta," the voice remarked, laced with annoyance and begrudging admiration.
Now reduced to particles, the swords and spears began to coalesce and return towards the figure seated in the illuminated room. He reclined in a chair, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, exuding an air of casual confidence as he watched the particles converge upon him.
With a dismissive wave of his hand, he gestured for Inietta to enter, his voice carrying a tone of impatience tinged with amusement. "That's enough greetings, right? Come in," he beckoned.
Inietta, undeterred by his demeanour, responded with a disdainful snort. "Hmph. I thought you were dead. How does it feel to be locked up by Father in one fixed city? Iggra," she retorted, her words dripping with scorn and defiance.
Iggra, a young man with dark brown skin, brown hair, and striking golden pupils, reclined in his chair as Inietta entered the room. Despite her entrance, she remained standing, her expression suspicious and her tone accusatory as she addressed him.
"What do you want? I know what you are doing," Inietta stated, her words laced with a palpable distrust.
In response, Iggra chuckled lightly, his amusement evident as he regarded her with a knowing smile. "Hey, that should be my line," he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of playful banter as he acknowledged Inietta's accusatory tone.
"Look at your ruined hand. Now you have stained it with your younger siblings' blood," Iggra's words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the consequences of Inietta's choices.
Iggra's taunting laughter echoed in the room as he continued, his mocking tone cutting through the tension like a knife. "After that, you still dare to show your face before me? Oh, I forgot. Do you have a face?" he jeered, his words dripping with disdain.
Inietta remained silent, her features betraying no emotion as she met Iggra's gaze with a steely resolve.
Iggra's demeanour shifted abruptly as he abandoned his playful demeanour. His expression turned serious as he posed his question with genuine intent. "What do you need here?" he inquired, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation.
Inietta's response was swift and unequivocal. "To kill you," she declared, her voice firm and resolute.
Iggra's frustration flared at her blunt response. "I'm asking seriously, dammit!" he retorted, his tone tinged with exasperation.
Inietta met his frustration with a steely gaze, her resolve unyielding. "I have asked, and you should already know what I am capable of. Are you doubting my intentions by withholding information about me?" she countered sharply.
Leaning forward in his chair, Iggra regarded her with curiosity and wariness. "What do you want, Iggravelir Aranandra?" she demanded, her voice laced with a potent combination of authority and defiance.
"Damn you, Inietta," Iggra muttered, his voice slicing through the stillness of the chamber. "I never bothered to learn your full name." He paused, his thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a gust of wind. "But let's set that aside. Let's talk business. Leave me out of your troubles, and I'll lend you a hand with whatever you require during your stay in this city," he suggested, his tone tinged with a hint of negotiation.
Inietta gracefully eased into the empty seat, a tacit acknowledgement of Iggra's proposal.
"I'll take that as a nod of approval," Iggra remarked, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Let's tackle these matters one by one. First, concerning the intricacies of train cargo logistics you mentioned earlier, I must thank you for your invaluable aid."
Inietta scoffed, her voice heavy with disdain. "Your ineptitude knows no bounds. I've heard tales of train heists more times than I can count, yet you've managed to bungle it. If you truly understood the power of our enemies, you would have taken decisive measures."
Inietta pressed on, her gaze probing. "Yesterday's shipment was substantial. What's the state of affairs in the border region?"
Iggra sighed, his brow furrowing in concern. "I've just dispatched a letter to Father detailing the situation. My sources indicate that Haudensaun is on the brink of attack by Old Salaria. War seems inevitable."
At this revelation, Inietta fell into a contemplative silence, her legs crossing with a fluid motion.
Iggra continued his tone grave. "As for the timing, it's uncertain. But there's a possibility they'll strike on the last day of this year's Colosseum contest."
"The Haudensaun government appears indifferent to the impending threat," Inietta remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Iggra nodded solemnly. "That's the unfortunate reality. Tensions between Westerners and Easterners in the eastern district are nothing new. Just recently, a major riot erupted in the market. And to compound matters, they've foolishly tightened security at the east gate."
"War it is, then. Very well," Inietta conceded with a nod. "But let me be clear, Iggra. My sole purpose in this city is to find someone."
Iggra leaned back, considering her words carefully. "Understood. Let's hope the traits are distinct enough for recognition. If not, we may have to enlist the help of our siblings in the search."
"Iggra, listen carefully," Inietta's voice carried a weight of urgency. "This person holds such significance that any foolish actions on your part could lead to dire consequences. Don't underestimate the gravity of the situation."
Iggra waved off her warning with a casual air. "Oh really? And what exactly is at stake here, Inietta?"
In a tone devoid of jest, Inietta replied, "The God of War, Iggra."
Iggra's jaw dropped, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Holy crap! Are you serious, Inietta? When did you start messing with the God of War?!"
Before he could get an answer, Iggra hurriedly interjected, "Alright, alright, I'll hear you out first."
Inietta's voice was firm as she reiterated, "She's an elf."
Iggra interjected, his curiosity piqued. "Elves on this continent? I thought..."
"Remember who we're dealing with," Inietta cut him off sharply.
"They're exceedingly rare, you know?" Iggra mused. "Especially the southern forest elves—they're practically extinct. Only the northern ones remain, correct?"
Inietta's patience wore thin. "I couldn't care less about that. I warned you to tread carefully."
After a pregnant pause, Inietta added, "She has vibrant green hair, and her name is Ephi."
"There haven't been any such items, as far as I know, Inietta. But if there are, I'll inform you," Iggra replied, his mind whirling with speculation. "If this involves the God of War, why wouldn't the deity seek her out directly? Perhaps the situation is more complex than it seems. Could it be that Inietta abducted her and lost her in the process? It's possible, but I'm no fool to meddle with a god, especially one of such strength." Iggra fell silent, lost in thought.
Observing his contemplation, Inietta added, "Furthermore, she was last seen with a young blonde woman."
"Fair enough. Your objective is yours, and mine is mine, isn't it?" Iggra remarked.
Inietta's brow furrowed. "I still fail to grasp why you've kept my actions under wraps, Iggra. Even the locals remain oblivious."
"I've explained this, haven't I?" Iggra replied, his tone patient yet firm. "As we've long understood, we each have our agendas. Allowing your capture would spell the end for me as well."
"Seems like you doubt me, but fine," Inietta remarked, rising from her seat with the sense that her business here was concluded. As she made her way to the door, Iggra's voice halted her.
"About Shelia-"
But Inietta cut him off abruptly. "Regarding the Colosseum contest, can I send someone to participate?"
Silence hung in the air for a moment before Iggra swivelled in his chair to face away from Inietta. "Very well, I'll make the arrangements."
Inietta continued on her path, but before departing, she tossed a parting remark over her shoulder. "May you hold onto your position, Father's left hand," she remarked pointedly before resuming her departure.