"Renoir."
The towering figure of the Hollow King nodded at him from his high throne of tarnished bronze, his oppressive grey eyes fixated on the swirling black cloud who wore an elegant red suit made of fine silk, holding an ornate golden pocket watch in his hand.
The Hollow King sat with his fingers interlocked before his face, leaning towards the Entity called Renoir, waiting for him to talk.
What was the shade thinking?
The shadows around Renoir grew darker and more twisted. If push came to shove, Cale could attempt to flee through a swiftly opened crack. But in front of a monster such as this, could he even flee fast enough?
"I don't even know where to start, Gil… It's… It's about my son, he's gone. Just gone! And with a war on our hands, I can't even look for him."
The menacing figure of Renoir made anxious circles around the room, biting his fingers with a crouched back… except he didn't have any teeth to do so.
Gil?
The King of Hollows had friends?
In his heart, Cale knew that it wasn't real. Gilran and Cale were the same, both of them devoid of most emotion. Only driven by two things, spite and the yearning to be something more.
To be driven by something more than just spite.
Even the friendship with Renoir was just an act put on by Gilran, but the way Renoir talked to the person he believed to be his friend, it was clear that he thought of the Hollow King as his dear friend.
He tried until his last moment.
Am I going to fail just like him?
The thought of failure didn't even bring him despair.
There was only one thing he could do, and that was to act like a proper good friend, just like Gilran did.
But… how was he supposed to do that?
Would a good father do everything to find his son?
If they would, a good friend would stop at nothing to help out.
"Do you have any leads as to where he could have gone?"
For a while, the entity called Renoir appeared to have calmed himself down, but there were no discernible features on his face.
"It should- it should be one of the First World cities over the Lawless Abyss, I have no idea which one." His tone grew more urgent as he went on.
"Renoir," the King of Hollows called out to his friend, who stopped in his anxious track of going in circles, "How much time do we have until the attack?
"A month at most…"
The towering figure of the King of Hollows stood up from his tarnished throne and walked down the stairs, bringing him eye to eyes with the Entity.
His voice came out warm and gentle, attempting to call the anxious father.
"He will return to you, I make sure of it."
For a while, the mass of black mist froze, no longer swirling and twirling, and even the many eyes didn't move.
Only his hand had made a subtle movement.
Did I say something wrong? Is he going to attack?
The swirling black mist jumped, embracing the large figure of the King of Hollows in a tight hug.
"Thank you, Gil. Thank you."
Cale didn't understand Renoir before, and he didn't understand him now. But there was no hostility that he could detect, which was enough for him.
In the great throne room, the shadows stopped scratching, no longer appearing deep and twisted.
"Do you have any leads other than he's on the First World?"
While he did use the term 'First World', he only did so because of the likes of Renoir and Lady Elenore using it.
The black cloud that was Renoir's head tilted in a clustered form, "Other than the trail of poverty, I don't know what else to follow."
Poverty? What kind of Entity was Renoir's son?
And if Cale was supposed to follow the marks of Poverty in the flying cities of all places, he was fresh out of luck.
No matter which of the cities, the closer one gets to the edge of it, the outcasts and the drags of the cities gather.
There was nothing but poverty in those places.
That would be way too big a search area to scour in one month, and even if he can find Renoir's son…
What then?
With a war on their hand and a loose entity appearing in the Flying cities, he needs to return as soon as possible.
Cale felt exhausted, one that seeps into his bones.
But he couldn't stop for now.
In the middle of a kingdom built up by the Hollow King, Cale didn't know all the intricacies and the work put into it by Gilran.
If he were to replace him, he needed information above all else.
Gilran was a flawless actor, mastering his role as a ruler, but Cale wasn't up to speed yet.
Before the time of the war council taking place, he had to get into character.
He had to truly become the King of Hollows.
***
Thanks to the help of the hollows, Cale managed to find the room where the war council was going to be held.
In the middle of the council's room stood a large round table made of a sturdy yet elegant white stone Cale didn't recognize. Only three seats surrounded it, with large maps hanging on the walls. The war council's chamber was simple, but well-maintained.
Taking some of the maps from the walls, he left the room, and with the help of the hollows, he soon found the personal bedchamber and his work office.
The two rooms were one and the same.
Gilran's bedchamber was just an extension of his work office, and from now on, it was Cale's.
Looking around the room, it wasn't like the rest of the castle; it was simplistic but had every necessity that Gilran would have needed.
And most importantly, the room was full of important documents.
Documents that he needed to learn by heart before the war council began.