The shimmering image of Lord Kaden of Botorn flickered and dissolved in the air above the polished table, leaving a lingering feelings of cold, unresolved anger. King Rega IV leaned back in his throne, the intricate carvings of the royal crest pressing into his spine like sharpened bones. The abrupt termination of the connection had left a gnawing unease that went deeper than the diplomatic deadlock. It was the echo of Kaden's final words.
"Your father, that vile tyrant, extinguished the Great Asase Yanius. Our lifeblood... We will fight until the last Botorian draws breath."
Rega ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the silence in the vast throne room amplifying the frantic thrumming in his own skull. "Njiru," he said, his voice sharp, cutting through the quiet.
The necromancer, who had stood impassively at the foot of the dais throughout the entire exchange, glided forward. His hollow eyes, like polished river stones, reflected the fading magical residue of the projection. "Your Majesty."
"The unvarnished truth. No courtly evasions, no careful omissions," Rega commanded, his voice tight. "Was it true? What Kaden said? Did my father… did he truly assassinate their Great Land Spirit?"
Njiru inclined his head, a single, grim confirmation that needed no further embellishment. "The records I have unearthed from your father's private archives are… conclusive, Your Majesty. The previous King orchestrated and financed the demise of the greater spirit, Asase Yanius. It was a clandestine operation of considerable complexity, shrouded in layers of arcane secrecy."
Rega let out a groan that was half laugh, half sob, a sound of pure, bitter frustration. "By the Void. Of course he did. That explains… everything. The unwavering hatred in Kaden's eyes… the desperation. He isn't just fighting for territory; he's fighting for the life of his very world." He slammed a fist onto the armrest of the throne, the sound cracking like a whip in the silence. "Who? Who was the blade in the dark? The one who carried out this… this world-breaking atrocity?"
"The individual responsible was a shadowmancer of considerable talent by the name of Sadia Munda," Njiru replied, his tone as devoid of emotion as a mortician's report. "She met her end shortly after the deed was done. Her demise was… not peaceful. However, her remains were recovered and are currently in my morgue, awaiting… potential reanimation protocols."
Rega's sharp eyes noticed the subtle stiffening of Njiru's posture at the mention of the name. "You knew her," Rega stated. It wasn't a question.
"Our paths crossed," Njiru admitted, his hollow eyes flicking away for a fleeting moment before locking back onto Rega's. "Before my… long imprisonment by your father. It was another existence."
"Ah, I see." Rega's lips curved into a inquisitive smile. "Any lingering sentiment I should be aware of? Any loyalties that might arise if I decide to have her corpse flayed for every secret it holds?"
A dangerous, cold light sparked deep within Njiru's eyes. "My only sentiment, Your Majesty, is for the successful continuation of my work. She was a resource then. She remains a potential resource now. Nothing more."
"Good," Rega said, a dark satisfaction coloring his voice. He leaned forward, the puzzle pieces of his father's madness clicking into a more terrifying picture. "Because this level of insanity… it can't just be about crippling Botorn. Destroying their land spirit benefits us, yes, but it doesn't win the war outright. There's another piece missing. What was the ultimate goal?"
"Astute, Your Majesty. I wasn't certain until I checked the archives. I feared for my head if I spoke without proof. The assassination was merely step one. The clearing of the field, so to speak. The true ambition was not destruction, but… creation."
"Creation?" Rega echoed, intrigued.
"An artificial Land Spirit," Njiru explained, a hint of academic pride in his sterile voice. "One designed from its genesis to be bound not to the soil of Botorn, but to the will and power of the Liptan crown. A puppet greater spirit to control our enemies from the inside out."
Rega leaned back staggered by the sheer audacity of his father's madness. An artificial land spirit. It was the work of a brilliant, sociopathic mind. "How in the blazes did they even attempt such a thing?"
"The research and development were conducted at a secluded institution, not far from the western border," Njiru explained, consulting a scroll he seemingly produced from nowhere. "It is called the Aetherium Genesis Institute. According to the records, a hand-picked team of rogue elementals, bio-alchemists, and disgraced life-weavers were hard at work on this… rather unorthodox endeavor."
Rega's mind raced. The audacity, the genius, the sheer, world-altering potential of it. "It has been years is this institution… this Aetherium Genesis Institute… is it still operational?"
"The records are incomplete," Njiru admitted. "The project was your father's most guarded secret. It is likely that some form of research is still ongoing, unless my predecessor saw fit to… dismantle it during the chaos of the coup."
A decision formed in Rega's eyes. Diplomacy had failed because it was built on a lie he never knew he was telling. Brute force was failing because his soldiers were fighting a nation that had nothing left to lose. Perhaps this third path, this inherited legacy of madness, was the only way to find a different kind of solution, a weapon or a bargaining chip that could finally end this senseless, ruinous war.
"Njiru," he said, rising from the throne, his voice now imbued with a cold, clear purpose. "Prepare a small, discreet escort. No banners, no fanfare. I am going to pay the Aetherium Genesis Institute a personal visit and see this artificial spirit for myself."