The hallway seemed to extend infinitely, despite the sheer amounts of steps that had rung out for the past ten minutes. The hall was decorated with all kinds of memorabilia, each dedicated to the fine acts of the Volarian empire.
The said pictures ranged from various black and white photos of admirals, heroes, and the previous Grand Chancellor of the Volarian army.
The carpet was a fine red, said to have been threaded from the blood of a thousand tailors that had cut themselves in its making. Said statement would have raised eyebrows in the humanity of such an event, however the tailors possessed fervor and love for their empire.
The general palette for the entire building consisted of white and yellow, the go-to coloring for the Volarian empire. Not only the color, but the architecture as well screamed its allegiance.
Volaria took a majority of its architectural inspiration from Vultia's. Grand cathedrals, as well as an assortment of ceremonial flags that seemed to hang from every corner. However, where the influence stopped, Volaria began.
The empire etched more steam machinery and minimalism into its respective Edifices. The steam machinery was due to the empire prioritizing war and production rather than lavish and unneeded structures.
The definition of the word 'unneeded' contained a… different meaning to Volarians.
However it was safe to say the Empire contained both beautiful and productive structures.
None of this ran through Frau Schnitter's mind as she walked through the hallway, the walk in respect taking a toll on her patience. She was quite audibly grumbling, something various cleaners she passed by took note of.
Her cap had been lazily plopped on her head, and her clothes were as disheveled as her hair. Clearly, she had been called straight out of bed.
The one who had called for her arrival was none other than the Grand Chancellor of the Volarian empire. For most, his title held an obligatory fearful response, but the same could not be said for Schnitter.
As she turned to the left wing, she let out a sigh, now tired of her own grumbles.
"I guess you can't even read nowadays anymore…"
The girl had received a limited edition copy of 'Nexus', a popular book that was soon to receive its own motion picture. Schnitter had wanted to finish the source material before the release of the movie, so she had been steadily doing a reading marathon.
However, to her dismay, she had to halt her reading due to this particular summoning.
Suddenly—
"—Oii!! Ms. Schnitter!"
A voice calls out from down the hallway. A few inches away from Schnitter.
The girl ignored the figure, and swiftly walked past them. Yes, to even give one second of your time to this individual would surely result in your downfall. This individual was the very epitome of the word 'annoying'. This was something Schnitter learned long ago.
The girl adjusted her cap in such a way that it obstructed her eyes from view.
'I'll just keep walking—'
"Ms. Schnitter!"
"I just passed you! How did you get in front of me again?!"
A shrug.
"Comedic effect."
"Hah?"
"I haven't seen you for so long, Ms. Schnitter!"
"Don't change the subject all happy-like!!"
The man, rather—boy, who stood in front of Schnitter was only a few inches taller than the girl. A young face that belonged to someone in their late teens, accentuated by deep blue hair that extended halfway down his neck. Two parts of his hair where held back by a headband, while the middle hung over his forehead.
He wore the same outfit as his contemporary, a Volarian Commander standard-issue uniform, which boasted a large cape. However, his badges were much more different than Schnitters.
This was Heinrich Schild, Second ranked chief officer in the Siechierhit Corps. This branch of the Volarian army consisted of mostly Jäger with only a few Scherer making up the ranks. However, whatever the branch lacked in quantity, it made in quality. The Scherer that consisted of them were said to be the top of their Empire.
Heinrich was a Shaper, something many did not know about. It was said his Homunculus was far too powerful to be within the Empire, so it would be released outside, wrecking havoc on whatever it sought. None knew about its appearance and abilities, however.
"I thought you were being all reclusive because of that, but it seems I was wrong! How cool!"
Schnitter's left eyebrow twitched.
"What are you specifically referring to when you say 'that'?"
It could be left up to interpretation whether Schnitter's question was a question or a statement. Once could never tell by her tone.
Heinrich scratched the back of his head, smiling.
"Haha, that. You know, everyone's talking about that."
A cleaner walked past the two, cleaning utensils in hand.
"Why did an adjective turn into a noun?!"
"Well, technically, 'that' can be used as both a noun and—"
Schnitter slapped her cheeks. Heinrich was only sixteen years old after all.
"Ok. Heinrich. What is everyone talking about?"
A forced smile manifested on Schnitter's face.
"About you being supposedly being defeated by a Mercenary."
"..."
"Where'd you hear about that?"
Heinrich tapped his chin, his gaze traveling upwards as he knitted his eyebrow together.
"Well, after you came back, and we managed to take over Varos, everyone celebrated except Clara, who said you didn't do anything and the army just happened to take over Varos. You came back really damaged, and we know that multiple mercenary groups were gathering at Varos before the other countries and kingdoms, so Clara suspected you of being defeated by one."
"What is that bitches problem?!"
"Ms. Schnitter, I know you don't like her, but she's my superior. I can't let you tarnish her honor like that."
Clara… Schnitter did not want even to think about her last name. She was the Commander of the Siechierhit, and the biggest hater of Schnitter. Schnitter herself did not know the reason for this hate, but resorted to constantly snapping back at Clara's randomly placed insults. The two were known as the Cat and Dog Corp throughout the army.
Schnitter sighed.
"Whatever. I wasn't defeated by a Mercenary, got that? She's just incapable of recognizing an accomplishment of mine, so she resorts to creating fictional scenarios in her mind to feel better."
Heinrich instantly shot out a thumbs up.
"Got it, Ms. Schnitter! I'll always believe you no matter what! You said it with a cool face too, how cool!"
"Whose subordinate are you, mines or hers?!"
"Well, you're the one who let me even be in this position in the first place after all. It'd be strange not to follow whatever you say."
Schnitter adjusted her cap.
"I see…. Anyways, you're dismissed, Heinrich."
Heinrich firmly saluted, placing his fist, wrist-down below his left pec. With the goodbye, the boy swiftly moved past Schnitter, uttering:
"Glad to see you around, Ms. Schnitter! Volaria is Order!"
"Order is humanity." Schnitter whispered back as she turned towards her previous destination. A slight smile had seemed to form, a result of the pathogen that had passed from the boy's infectious smile.
Heinrich was a good boy.
____________________________________________________________________________
The doors to the Grand Chancellor of Volaria's Armed Forces creaked open. Each door was about twelve feet tall, so a large noise erupted in unison with their respective motions. The room was akin to a courtroom, with various seats scattered around its edges. Said seats were reserved for governors, and guests from visiting countries or kingdoms.
Schnitter's eyes traveled across the room, gazing at the various seats.
However at this moment, only two great men existed in the room. Two men, that, if you were to utter only the first three letters of their names, those around you would feel their presence from merely your words. These two men held absolute power in their fingertips and were capable of annihilating countries if given enough time.
The first, stood tall, nearly reaching seven feet with a frame that was intensely muscular, yet shrouded under his sophisticated garments. His hair trailed behind him, jet black. His eyes were a bright azure, framing his handsome face. In one hand, he held a thick book that held various records of battles between Lagomia and Vultia.
This was Grand Chancellor of Volaria's Armed Forces, Hagen von Tronj. A man who had been granted a portion of a Divine Gift by a Celestial who had gone by the name of Tyr. Not much was known about Tyr, but what was known was that he held incredible strength in the face of injustice. As for what he had given Hagen, it was known by none.
Volaria lacked any proper Celestials that most other Kingdoms had, so as a result, they had to rely on their own human ingenuity. However, that did not mean there was a total lack of Votaries within the kingdom.
As for the second Votary, whose Hollow Points could kill someone, he stood next to his companion, the exact same height. His white hair also cascaded behind him, but tied in a ponytail, albeit messy.
This man had also been granted a Divine gift from Tyr as well. One that none knew of. This was a man appointed as the sole Hero of the Volaria by the Emperor himself, Siegfried Von Xanten. A man known for slaying the legendary Tyrant, Fafnir. A fire breathing wyvern said to have been larger than the sky itself.
The two men were clearly discussing something. 'Something' that would not register in Schnitter's head, as she was clearly overtaken by the sheer presence in the room. Some would never be in the same room as these two men, yet here she was, inches away from them.
Hagen, taking note of the awestruck girl, turns his head in her direction, a calm look present on his face.
"Ah, Frau Schnitter was it?"
His eyes held genuine curiosity.
Siegfried also turned his head.
The room seemed to close in on Schnitter.
"Y-Yes, sir."
"I see. How have you been? I've heard you were heavily injured in your last expedition to Varos two months ago." The man asked.
"Good now, Sir. Thank you for asking."
'I was binge-reading Nexus.' Was something the girl would never, under any circumstances, utter to such a powerful man.
"It's my pleasure. It is my sworn duty to watch over the morale of my commanders." The man chuckles, his mouth fully open.
"Now, for what we've called you here for. Any ideas?"
Schnitter cleared her throat.
"N-No, sir. I haven't got the faintest clue."
"Ah, well you see…"
The man's soft features tighten, like a rope holding an immense weight.
"The Celestial of Asgard, Odin, is dying."