White snow rained down from the glittering sky above like bits of cotton, touching down gracefully onto the gravelly roads, the austere buildings, the strict iron lampstands— nothing escaped from its chilling touch.
A candlestick floated around inside a dark empty room; its deathly glare gave off the exact same menacing feeling one would expect in a secret ritual.
It stopped.
Thin fingers warily wrapped themselves around the stand and placed it softly on a bare one-legged table. Though nobody was watching him through the window, the silhouette nevertheless shut the curtains, letting nothing—not even a glimmer of light—escape the room.
Blight drew a chair out, sat down, and waited in the semi-darkness, breathing slowly but steadily. It seemed that he was awaiting somebody's arrival because whoever footsteps below in the streets met his ears, the man would tilt his head, listening closely if they approached the building.
A pair of sturdy boots stomped up the crunchy pathway and lingered in front of the rusty door. The gloved hand reached out, opened it, but finding it already unlocked, seemed to hesitate. A low voice upstairs bounced down to beckon him in.
"Come in."
Recognising the voice, there was no hesitation left. The figure gently shut the door and climbed the ancient stairs as fast as his huge frame could go.
Why was it so dark? His feet tripped every few seconds in his haste and consequently fell into sticky cobwebs covering the railing. At long last, he made it to the top and slowly approached the final entrance, but…
There was an ominous feeling surrounding the handle as if a powerful magic seal was holding it in place, warning him to run while he still had the chance.
No… He was getting old, no doubt. No point trusting instincts anymore, not when he had such a powerful, scheming puppeteer behind his back, pulling all the strings for him.
No, he would not back down from this meeting; perhaps his soldier instincts were getting old.
He pushed open the door carefully.
Sitting comfortably on a bare musty armchair, which was one of the few pieces of furniture left in the degrading room, Blight paid no attention to the man while he made himself comfortable on a half-broken stool. Although he was dressed as prim as always, there was, however, a sense of urgency behind Blight's emotionless eyes as they surveyed the room without much thought. Then turning to him for the first time since his sudden appearance, Blight addressed the man with a voice that could only be matched by the frosty weather outside.
"Welcome to Alms. I assume you must be rather tired? After all, it was on such short notice when I sent you the letter."
Pulling out a flashy pocketwatch, Blight set it down alongside his candle with great care, placing it in a way so he could get a clear view of it at any given time.
"Do you have another appointment?" asked Rook, nodding to the watch.
"Yes… Though you don't have to worry about it. We can afford to spend a little more time here, since this will be the last time we meet."
A chill slid under Rook's skin. That tone of voice… It was more of a death sentence than an empty statement when coming out from his mouth. Rook grasped for words in vain but could find none, causing his master to smile faintly; a smile that conveyed devilry rather than warmth. Blight sat back in his chair relaxed, clearly showing no signs of immediate hostility and yet… those words he spoke… Rook knew a heavier meeting hung behind them, though he was unable to think of what it was.
"You must be confused, Rook?" offered Blight, closing his eyes as though he was drifting off to sleep. "I suspect I owe you an explanation. Everything that has happened—that is, relating to my downfall—was calculated and controlled by me. I shall make that plain to you before I proceed."
"Y–You mean… You arranged your own downfall?" stuttered Rook, dumbfounded.
"That is correct. Everything leading up to the war, the Enforcers' suspicions, and Hartland's arrest were all orchestrated by me from the very beginning."
"But why? If only we had a bit more time… Ecclesia would've been within our grasp!"
"I apologise for the confusion; let me start from the beginning.
When we first met, our terms were simple, were they not? Mutual benefit. That was our goal. We both, no doubt, acquired more wealth than any of us could've imagined."
"But there's more! More to be reaped, more to take as ours!"
His voice grew more and more excited with every word spoken. Blight calmed this sudden surge of emotion with a raise of his hand. A hollow silence followed, only to be broken by Blight's soft voice as he continued with his monologue.
"No. It might have been tempting in your eyes, Rook, but my judgement held me back from making foolish mistakes. This country, as you say, would have been in my hands but for how long? Don't forget; the Enforcers are not the only faction competing for power. The rebels… The underworld lords… Leaders from other nations… All of them would be after me like flies if I tried it. Besides, you know my worldview, don't you, Rook? I was never chasing after riches in the first place.
I want to bring inescapable judgement to the world, to sink it into chaos. And so that's why I chose to spark a war among the leading countries on the planet.
To ensure hostility, I slowly built mistrust between the two countries through a series of crippling blows to Revalty's diplomacy, while maintaining a low profile within Ecclesia, building a public facade through donations and 'good deeds'. I realised then that Revalty was hardly in a position to fight Ecclesia, so how could I persuade them to fight?
Information and sabotage. If Ecclesia could be weakened from the inside as Revalty gradually got stronger, they would be in a much more favourable position to fight in the war. Of course, they didn't trust me entirely, nor did I expect them to. Their one condition was simple: I had to lose my power as a Custodian and be cast out from the country. That was the only way I could switch sides, supervising and taking command over their armies."
"So that's why," said Rook slowly, coming to realise what had been happening for the past months. "Is that why you insisted on having Sigerson investigate you?"
Blight nodded, his fingers locking together as he stared at the beadily with his deep auburn eyes. He resumed his speech again, this time without looking at Rook.
"Every time he came closer to me, I withheld information from him, but every time he lacked information and seemed to hit a dead end, I left a clue for him. That bimbling detective who visited my mansion just before he did… I used his emotional instability against him, forcing Sigerson to turn his eyes towards me once again. And before that, when I took over Wensworth's company, I made it clear to him that somebody was behind the crimes. All this was done while isolating Crowne to increase Grock's workload, making it even harder for the government to keep their eyes on me as I had already made them chase after the detective aimlessly."
"Wait… Why did you tell me to kill Sigerson then? How did you even know he was going to be there?"
Blight chuckled to himself.
"You seem to have forgotten my connections with the Enforcers. From their files, I had come to the conclusion (and I suspect Grock has too) that Sigerson would be determined to arrest me. From the moment he reappeared in Sodor, that became a certainty. Now, when a man is set on arresting a criminal but is being chased by the law, what does he do? He cannot use his detective advantage anymore to directly arrest Hartland, so he must have others do it for him. The moment I remembered Hartland's terrible weakness for gambling, it became clear. Sigerson exploited Hartland's habits, blackmailed him, and led him to a location easy enough to initiate an arrest. When the letters flooded into Grock's message, I knew where and when the arrest was going to take place.
Now Sigerson is the type of person to oversee his duties to the end, coming no doubt from his detective background. Therefore, he would try to witness the arrest, or at least the Enforcers coming to arrest Hartland to verify that the message had come through. There were many places where he could've stayed that were in the vicinity of the hotel, but since he's a fugitive, I ruled out anywhere too public. The only place left was that old abandoned apartment, where I sent you to watch.
I made the attempt to kill him simply because his role in my plan had come to an end. Of course, as you know, he still somehow still escaped, but you won't need to worry about that. I've stirred up enough trouble between him and Miss Whitlock to keep them occupied and away from me for the moment."
"I see… I suppose you sent that killer into Huntersberg to track his location as well, didn't you?"
Blight nodded, then seeing as the flow of questions had stopped, continued.
"So far, everything has been working out marvellously; it'll only be a matter of time now before Revalty's condition is met and I can fully join the weaker country."
"But…" muttered Rook, stroking his beard nervously. "What about the coal company? Was it really necessary to take over it through the boiler explosion?"
"My coal monopoly has yet to play its role, Rook. It would be best if there are things you do not know."
"Then what about me?"
"Pardon?"
Blight's words appeared to have suggested that Rook was nothing more than a pet—no, a pawn. He stared down at the bulky man, inviting him to speak… Perhaps for the last time in his life.
"I–I mean…" faltered Rook, a mere rat to the monster sitting across the room from him. "If you're switching sides to Revalty, what would become of us?"
"By 'us' you are referring to?"
"Me and the entire network you put under my command! What are we to do in your absence? Without you, there's nobody to lead us!"
Blight's face clearly showed pleasure at Rook's torment—not out of sadism, but rather because of the knowledge that Rook was completely dependent on him. During all those years of hardship… Now he knew… Rook truly was a loyal puppet capable of nothing but receiving orders.
"Calm yourself, Rook."
Instant silence.
"I will explain your fate. Either you must disappear like the rest of the threads connected to me—"
Rook's beefy fist clenched tightly, his desperation nearly ready to lash out.
"—or you can follow me to Revalty where I may require assistance."
His hand loosened, a sigh of relief escaping from his lips. His pale face, which was visible even in the dimly lit room, slowly regained colour as he heaved himself up and nodded appreciatively to Blight, whose face was, for some reason, cast down.
Rook strode across the room in two humongous steps, but before he could leave, Blight halted him with one word.
"Stop."
Rook froze on the spot. Evidently, something was wrong. He peeked behind his back and asked, "W–What is it, Blight? I have to get ready, don't I?"
A curious look crept onto Blight's face; his pupils contracted slightly like a wicked serpent.
"I never said you could choose, did I?" whispered Blight quietly, his voice dripping with venom.
Crimson splattered across the room followed by a dull thud. A revolver with silencer attached to its barrel pointed right at Rook's enormous temple spat out a ribbon of thin smoke as it was lowered by its wielder.
The silhouette of the hidden assassin stepped out from behind the curtain and faced Blight, but not in submission. Rather, instead of bowing down to him as most did, its mouth curled into a malicious smile when it saw the dead body.
"You know what to do," said Blight indifferently, leaving the room without a hint of remorse.