Blood & Honour [Book Four of The City of Eternity Series] [✔]

4.9: Leadership

"A few days."

That is what I had told Arsenio. The words lingered in my mind, my concern not dissipating even as we'd left one another; I couldn't shake the worry gnawing at me, so I decided to read his file shortly after Dhana was taken out of my office. As I sifted through the pages, my fears were confirmed. Arsenio's history was a tragic tapestry of loss and survival, marked by the harrowing experiences of the wars.

He had been a wrecking ball of emotion, swinging between despair and rage, ever since he was turned in the final days of the conflict. His entire family had been wiped out, leaving him the sole survivor. He remained human until the very last day of the war, a mere few hours before peace was finally declared. I could only imagine the profound fear and bitterness that must have consumed him on that fateful day, the world collapsing around him as he was forced into a new existence he hadn't chosen.

In the aftermath, it was Dhana who had managed to settle his tumultuous emotions. She had taken it upon herself to soothe his tortured soul, providing the stability he desperately needed. Without her, I feared his already fragile state would deteriorate rapidly. My recent interaction with him only solidified this theory—Arsenio was not ready to cope with her absence. His grief was a palpable force, a storm barely held at bay by the thin veneer of his composure.

The day after my encounter with Arsenio and the widespread rogue attacks, a letter arrived on my desk. It bore the seal of the High Council, an ominous sign of urgency. The letter requested the presence of every government official at an emergency meeting later that afternoon. The timing was telling. I suspected that the rogue attacks were the catalyst for this sudden assembly, and my theories about the rogues—whether they were a coordinated effort or a sign of deeper unrest—were about to be put to the test.

As I prepared for the meeting, my mind raced through the possibilities. The rogues could be a symptom of a larger issue, perhaps a response to systemic failures within our governance or a manifestation of unresolved conflicts from the war. Alternatively, they could be a more personal vendetta, targeting specific individuals for reasons yet unknown. The uncertainty was unsettling, but I knew that by the end of the day, we might have the clarity we desperately needed—or face even greater confusion.

After receiving the letter, I found myself standing outside the large metal double doors on the fourth floor of the government building, surrounded by various other officials. We had arrived early, and the leaders weren't quite ready for us. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as we were left to chat amongst ourselves in the lantern-lit hallway.

Many of the officials were eager to discuss their theories about the recent surge in rogue attacks. Their voices buzzed with speculation, ranging from conspiracy theories about internal sabotage to fears of an external uprising. I listened politely, enduring the chatter until the clock tower chimed four in the afternoon when the double doors finally creaked open. We shuffled in nervously, the weight of our collective unease palpable in the air.