Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 172: War Plans

Toren Daen

Even in the wake of the tempus warp and the sudden shift in my perspective, my body remained tensed and coiled. Even as I finally left the deep fortress of Taegrin Caelum, part of my mind still remained in those dark hallways, quietly fearing the High Sovereign's horrid heartfire thrum.

Seris, however, walked forward without apparent care. That serene yet predatory power she'd leveraged against Dragoth and Uto still burned against my tongue and pressed against the sides of my temples in memory, yet outwardly, the silver-haired Scythe appeared calm and collected.

I focused on the change in the air as we warped into Seris' estate. I was free of Taegrin Caelum. I could relax.

I felt the slight, burgeoning warmth of my mental tether with Aurora as it slowly simmered back to full contact. Even as I continued to follow Seris and Cylrit through their estate, my attention returned to my bond for a brief instant.

"Do you understand why you were ordered to leave the meeting room?" Seris' cool, even voice said, drawing me from my thoughts.

I worked my jaw, the Scythe's words unearthing buried emotions. They were not logical, but I felt them all the same. "I was a liability," I said, my voice a bit stiffer than I would have liked. "My political skills are... subpar. And I got the feeling you needed to divert the attention of the other Scythes."

Seris looked at me over her shoulder, the shifting ripple of her hair like waves in an ocean of pearl. "You are not a liability, Toren Daen. In fact, you are anything but."

I frowned, feeling slightly confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand," I replied.

Seris sighed in a suffering manner, though there was no true heat in it. She slowed in her walk through the halls of her estate–I truly had no idea of our destination, and part of me suspected the Scythe of Sehz-Clar had no idea, either–and stood by my side.

"A month ago, Lord Daen, nobody knew your name. The crest of your Blood bore little more significance than a passing breeze," she said, a painted nail tapping the aforementioned sigil where it was stitched over my heart. Seris looked up at me with a complicated expression. Her brows were knit in a way that hinted at the thoughts beneath, something deeply curious in her gaze as she inspected the lines of my face. I stared into her eyes in turn, feeling a well of uncertainty in my chest.

"But in a little under a week, your actions made the roots of Alacryan society tremble. The horrid losses of the Plaguefire Incursion have not been seen in half a century or more, and in the wake of Varadoth's death, the state church has continually been ripped to shreds by both opportunistic highbloods and Agrona's own forces. The question on the mind of every single Scythe in that meeting was simple."

Seris tapped a finger against the fiery heart sigil over my vest in turn with her words. "They wish to know Who. You. Are."

I swallowed as Seris retracted her hand. Cylrit said not a word, his intent unreadable as he stared straight ahead. I was beginning to understand that was his natural response to basically anything.

"And that was why you sent me from the room?" I asked. "To deny the other Scythes that understanding?"

Seris began to walk again, forcing Cylrit and me to trail after her mutely.

"In part. But such action would have been unnecessary had Lord Agrona not implied your worth–your interest–to be beyond that of his former Voice. Perhaps I could have shifted the attention elsewhere otherwise. Perhaps I could have alluded to truths rather than faced them directly were this not the case. But I needed to do something to shift the narrative. Thus, I orchestrated the removal of all conscious Retainers from the room, including you."