The Pillar's sanctum was no courtroom. It was a chamber in the shape of civility. Carved beneath the presidential palace itself, it sat buried in stone, its curved dome was laced with Ego-nullifying runes.
The air smelled like polished limestone and a warm coffee scent.
At the centre stood an obsidian table. Its grooves were still visible.
Serving as a crucible where Ostara's government clashed beneath a banner of order.
They were all here.
Nine chairs. Nine seats of influence. Eight occupied.
For the missing member there would usually be a well established reason. The Pillar of Faith was missing due to health reasons.
At the head of the table sat President Edric Maëlstrom Vireaux, dressed in a simple high collared charcoal coat, his silver streaked black hair brushed back, his gloved hands beneath his chin.
His eyes were pale, glinting full of winter, not showing any of the heat in the moment.
To his right was Dario Kosta, the Warlord. Dressed in a navy blue trench coat.
Across from him was Alfred Stein, the pillar of law. A small smirk was dancing on his face. His suit was immaculate and his hands were folded in surgical precision.
The others sat down at the table like ghosts at a funeral.
Alaric Weiss, pillar of memory, hair grey and eyes wide and searching. His nails were bitten short, his left eye twitching faintly. He seemed nervous.
Miriam Halcyon, the Pillar of coin, she gleamed with a wicked elegance. The polished diamond brooch at her throat caught the candlelight like a candle light's shadow on a wall.
Marshal Rourke, he was the Pillar of Arms. He has a crooked nose and a loud disdain for Dario and any other Ego user.
The youngest member of the Pillars was Livia Moss, the Pillar of Steel. She was the pillar in charge of infrastructure. She clutched at a pendant on her. She held an innocence that none of the other members had, she always seems to hate being in their cold presences.
And lastly was Elias Evans, the Pillar of Gate, he works with diplomacy and ensuring strong relations with other territories.
Silence reigned until Alfred moved.
He placed a thick, sealed dossier on the table before him with the deliberate calm of a man planting a mine.
"Two years ago," he started, his voice cutting like glass from a dropped honey jar, "the Gresham District suffered a catastrophic breach. Officially, we recorded it as a Phantasm containment failure. But I've come into possession of new information, information that points to a deliberate act."
He slid the dossier across the table. It came to rest before Marshal Rourke, who broke the seal with a grunt. His eyes scanned the contents, and his features began to darken.
"This says the breach was caused by unsanctioned release," Rourke muttered, his voice heavy with steel. As a man of discipline, he made sure his no nonsense attitude was noticed everywhere he went. So seeing something like this only made him think that there were too many people in too important positions that did not have the same mentality to work in their fields.
"It also says," he continued. "That the two Ego users involved were first transported and hidden in the Saint Julien Memorial Hospital. Built by Moss Holdings."
His gaze shifted to Livia.
"That was named for your brother wasn't it?"
Livia's grip on her pendant tightened. "The hospital was built not long after the incident. If the boys were kept there to be hidden, that is wrong. It is a hospital, not a safehouse."
Dario remained silent, and still. But his fingers, resting on the table, twitched once.
Alaric cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly. "Before we proceed with this… narrative," he said with dry caution. "I believe I should present a counterpoint."
He tapped on a spot on the table for him, and a hologram bloomed in the air above them, grainy footage of Alfred speaking to a well known figure in the underworld in a separate room above a cafe.
"That's Viktor Haan." Elias spoke first. His voice remained pleasant. "He's a known arms broker for insurgents. This looks like a transaction."
Alfred didn't blink. "It was a sting operation. Fully documented. File 9A."
President Edric input his biometrics into the console. The table whirred, and then flashed a bold red.
"No file exists under that designation." Edric said softly.
A pause. The air was still.
Alfred's lips curled into a smile that didn't touch his eyes.
"Of course it doesn't. Because Alaric deleted it last night."
Gasps were heard from Livia and a false one was copied by Miriam. And then the sound of another folder slamming onto the table. This one larger, thicker. Surveillance logs. Archive access times. It was his proof.
Everyone had taken a gander and seen it correspond with his story. What they didn't know though was that Alfred had made sure to know as much as he could about his associates.
What he knew of Alaric that could help him in this situation was his habit of finding and deleting what seemed like inconsequential logs that wouldn't matter. It wasn't an issue but it was also just unnecessary since the system was set up to delete certain information that is old and taking up space but still filing it away to be recovered at a moment's notice.
Him finding and deleting the ones he deemed as inconsequential left open spots for Alfred to fill. It wasn't always the grand things he needed to look for or find ways to create. People who have set routines make it easier as they leave so much open.
Alaric couldn't even fight his way out of this one with any proof since the key members like the president and even Dario knew of this habit that he had forced on himself. Now when it is all said and done Alfred can get rid of him too.
"You… let me into a trap." Alaric voiced out in a hushed breath.
Alfred folded his hands again and looked at him for the pitiable fool he was seeing. "I didn't do anything. I just left the bait for where a guilty mind would find it."
Miriam's brows rose. "And I assume this all ties back to our favourite Warlord?"
Dario thought to shut down the thought quickly.
"I am not involved with anything shady within that context." He said. "But you know what I have done? I've bled for this nation. Again and again. And I will not sit here and have my intentions twisted by a man who doesn't bleed for anything but control."
Alfred leaned forward.
"Is that why you took in those two… anomalies?" he asked softly. "Is that why you shield them? Aliens who entered our borders undocumented, unchecked, unmonitored?"
"They are children," Dario snapped. "And they are innocent."
"As if that has ever mattered before." Alfred said. There were some confused faces on them all other than the president and the Pillar of Memory. "But anyway. They bypassed every known registry. They awakened powerful Egos with no family, no history. And conveniently, the first appearance of theirs that had been documented was in a building built with funding from this very table."
Livia stiffened with bitterness. She didn't want to fight back against the Warlord, but she felt as though she had been used for some nefarious scheme that may have put so many lives at stake.
Edric raised his hand. "Enough." He said. "There is no law broken unless it's proven. Dario still has a right to due process. All of you do."
Alfred's eyes flickered toward the president. "You always take his side. Are you impartial or complicit? Did you know about the fact that he had tried to wipe the information of the two boys from the hospital records?"
"I did not know that," Edric said. "But I will tell you that I am not blind to your odd ploys."
"I suppose not," Alfred replied, his voice cooling. "You have also had many meetings with the Warlord outside of your building that haven't been logged. Your status as leader of this country does not matter."
"I have never acted in a way that proves otherwise." Edric told him and everyone else in the room.
"So you admit collusion."
"No," Edric said. "I continue to act as this nation's leader."
Alfred ignored the president and stood up.
"Surrender Dario. Step down. And let the law run its course."
"No," Dario said simply.
Dario looked at Alfred. The smile on his face was telling him that something was coming. He wasn't able to see or sense out what it could be, his Egos had been rendered useless in this room. It is sealed with many nullification runes controlled by certain people that not even he is told about.
Dario still thinks he could get out of this situation. Easily. He has been in worse positions before and had gotten out of them.
But he doesn't. He knows that something great is coming, that today could be the start of some great suffering that he hasn't felt before.
He doesn't remember much of his youth before he started fighting, or training to fight for this nation. He loves it though. Fighting for Ostara, he loves the people, the food, the nature, everything about it. He believes that it is the best nation on the planet.
But he had taken so much from people just to continue living in this glory.
When he wanted to stop, it was already too late. The damage had been done.
So even though he knew something great was coming and there was a chance he would actually lose, he wasn't going to run from it.
Because it was always going to be chasing him until the very end. So now is the time he chose to face it head first. This was never about Alfred and his silly plans, no matter how far Alfred goes, Dario is sure he will fall in the worst ways so it doesn't matter.
It is about him and how he will do better when it is all over.
Three knocks rang out. It was Alfred, he knocked on the table three times.
Dario could feel it instantly, the warm feeling of his power brimming beneath his skin. The nullifying runes were gone. The air cracked.
A pulse of warped space opened at the doors, then Corbin and Ruben tumbled through, wrists bound in goldsteel restraints. Behind them came Elise Vogel, Felix Hartmann and Elijah Neri.
Dario stood in a single motion. The obsidian table rattled frightening the other pillars in the room. The rooms were nullified because at the end of the day, they were all still human, they did not want to anger the strongest man as they feared consequences.
Rourke composed himself and stood tall staring at Dario with a hard look. "Enemies of the state," he growled. "Brought in under mandate."
Alfred's grin gleamed like oil. "Surrender. Or this escalates."
"I said… NO!"
The ground cracked and Dario could feel the fear coming from even the president and before he turned he could see the hands of Elijah Neri over one another wrist to wrist.
"[Darken]"
His vision darkened and he could feel the swirling motion again of teleportation from the Ego he hadn't figured out who it belonged to.
He had fallen for the bait. The fight.
This was the answer that Alfred was looking for. An answer that allowed him to put him down for good.
He accepts.
"Well Come At Me Then Old Friend!"
***
(Flashback)
The glass of the foyer roof gleamed faintly with evening light, soft pink and pale orange spilling through the clouds like melting sherbet. The room was still, save for the distant whisper of wind rustling through the garden beyond. Floor-to-ceiling windows cast tall reflections across the marble, painting the quiet scene with half-formed silhouettes.
Ruben sat with his back against the wall, knees up, arms slung loosely over them. His gaze lifted to the canopy above, where stars had yet to break through. His thoughts were noise.
All of them at once. The past week, the trials, the look on Dario's face when he was apologizing. He couldn't quiet any of it down.
Across from him, Corbin lay sprawled on his back, a ball in one hand, flicking it into the air. Catch. Toss. On and on. The faint slap of rubber on palm was the only heartbeat in the space.
Ruben closed his eyes. Tried again, to think of a Promise. He wanted something that would help his power progress…
But nothing came.
Nothing at all. Just dumb concepts that were too vague or too limiting. What could he even trade to make his dragons stronger, faster, sharper?
The ball slapped against something harder this time. Ruben's head.
He sat up, blinking.
"What the hell, man?"
Corbin shrugged, his tone too casual to be anything but deliberate. "Was thinkin.'"
Ruben rubbed his temple, frowning. "And that required concussion?"
Corbin didn't smile. He pushed himself up to sit properly now, elbows on his knees, expression firm beneath the soft, honey glow of the sky. "Dario's the only thing keeping us above water right now."
Ruben blinked. He nodded, slowly.
Corbin kept going. "People way higher up than we've even seen want us gone. Or maybe even worse."
"I know."
"Feels like everything's just… starting to break."
Ruben looked out into the garden. The hedges were perfect. Too perfect. Everything in this place was like, it was waiting to be trampled on.
"I think something big is coming." He said quietly. "Something terrible."
Corbin scoffed. "You think they've got the balls to strike at Dario?"
They had already confronted him in front of a large group of people without a care in the world, and with everything Dario had said before leaving…
"I don't know," Ruben said. "But whatever it is, I think it's going to be colossal."
He let the words out, not even fully understanding what it was he was saying. Just felt as though it were something he had to get out.
Then slowly, his voice dropped low.
"I've been trying to think of a Promise. Something to make my dragon more efficient, but…" he sighed. "Nothing's sticking."
Corbin looked over at him. His gaze was sharp. Tired. But unyielding.
"I'm not gonna come up with that for you."
Ruben blinked. "I didn't…"
"You're the one using the power. So you figure it out. That's how this works."
Ruben exhaled. Frustration edged his voice now. "It's not that simple."
"I know."
Silence again.
Then a swirling motion!
A hand. Large, rough and appearing out of nowhere, grabbed the back of Ruben's skull and slammed his head down with brutality. Ruben's vision fractured. His shoulders jolted from the impact.
Across the floor, Corbin's scream ripped through the air as his fist smashed into the ground, shattering the marble with a thunderous crack.
Both of them flipped back, reflex. Combat instinct. They landed low, already backing away from the blast point, scanning.
Swirls of darkness bloomed. Thin, spinning discs of air tore into the air like the seams of reality unthreading.
From them came in ghosts the two boys had almost forgotten about.
Elise Vogel and Felix Hartmann.
Elijah Neri followed after them.
Ruben's blood flared.
Corbin's hands clenched.
No words.
They launched forward together.
Ruben reached Elise first. Her blade sang from its sheath, gleaming silver in a quick draw too fast to track. He leapt. She ducked. He threw a fist as he spun mid-air, and she bent backwards, hands to the ground, flipping upward with a kick that nearly caught him under the jaw.
He landed hard, turned and…!
Felix!
The punch came fast. Almost too fast.
Ruben dropped low, slid under it. The air cracked from the force. Gloves. Black. Ruben was confused, he knows that Felix had a game type Ego so there was no way that he would have that kind of strength.
It wasn't a great amount, but it would hurt.
Corbin's voice thundered across the room.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Elijah's voice rang through calmly. "Orders. As newly instated Paladin we are to bring you in."
While Corbin responded Ruben thought on the fact that out of those three only Elijah would be a newly instated Paladin. But when was the inauguration? Due to how things ended they thought they would at least let the heat die down before announcing new Paladin.
Corbin laughed, a hard and bitter sound. "Then you better make sure you hit a lot harder than that."
Another portal appeared behind Corbin. A figure stepped through. Gaunt. Androgynos. White hair, black eyes. Dressed in a two-toned trench coat that gleamed like oil and mirror.
Corbin turned, fists raised. He swung hard.
The man lifted a hand.
"[Perfect Counter]"
Corbin's scream tore the air apart as he was thrown backward, his own force… returned? He skidded, spine scraping the stone, breath knocked out of him.
"Corbin!"
Ruben didn't think twice. He just moved.
A red streak. A lasso. It caught him around the chest mid-sprint and yanked him from the air. He slammed into the ground with a grunt, chest first, ribs aching.
The one holding the lasso stood silent.
Rosette St. Jon.
Ruben looked at her, disbelief twisting on his face.
"Rosette! What are you doing?"
She didn't blink. Her voice was as calm as she had held it even in the trials. Although it is much colder now. She was a killer who didn't hold back her blade.
"My goal is to protect this nation as a Paladin."
She pulled the lasso closer and tighter.
"And to do that… threats like you need to be dealt with for your crimes."
Ruben's breath hitched. "You're fucking kidding. It was only a few days ago we were on the same team and everything was right… right?"
It's not like he had really gotten to know the girl, but he didn't think someone could just switch so quickly like that.
She stepped forward, her blood red weapon shimmering in the half-light.
"I'm going to be a Warlord of Ostara Ruben."
A Warlord. Like Dario.
Ruben had often wondered how many Paladin had taken on the role with that goal in mind. Considering how many people would be inspired by Dario in at least one aspect of their lives.
Facing someone like that, someone so sure they are going to stand at the very top. Someone like Corbin, just a cold robotic version of him.
A cough came from the ground, it was Corbin, spiteful laughing was what came next.
"You bitch!"
Rosette didn't react.
Corbin dragged himself up, blood on his chin. "You think you're next? Considering everyone from those shitty trials! Our generation's best is me! You're looking at the next Warlord!"
He thumped his chest.
His voice was cut off by the heel of a boot on his head.
Black eyes seared straight into Corbin's in an eerie calm.
"You've spoken enough."
Elijah appeared again, his shadow curling up his arm. He pulled two lengths of golden chain from the void and tossed one to Rosette.
"They need to be bound."
Rosette caught hers. Tied it around Ruben's wrists.
The moment it clicked shut, silence.
He couldn't feel his Ego. Not a flicker.
Corbin's body went still too. No strength, no power. The golden restraint glinted, warm and cruel.
Elijah turned to the strange man with the mirrored coat.
"Otto. Let's go."
Otto was his name. He didn't respond, he just stood there and twisted his neck until multiple small cracks were heard.
He then called out to the air.
"It's time Jo."
Then, without warning, a giant hand, made of swirling dimensional static, reached down from nothing and curled around the two boys.
Ruben's eyes widened as the world tore. Corbin roared, powerless.
And then they disappeared and they opened their eyes to see the angry face of Dario.
That was a sight to see, like the face of a Greek God about to show his wraith on those that had angered him.