Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 177: In the Depths of Darv

Toren Daen

Seris strode through the cavern toward the opposite edge, a small contingent of fellow Alacryans at her heels. Most of the small cavern around the teleportation gate remained kneeling as she swept past like a graceful reaper, her onyx eyes cold and impassive as she kept her gaze forward.

Behind us, the barrel-chested man who had first greeted the Scythe of Sehz-Clar–likely the captain of the divisions down below–nervously trundled after. As we walked, the pathways of people split, mages suffocated by Scythe Seris' aura as she passed. Absently, I realized that I rarely even sensed the Scythe's aura. She had a tendency to keep her cloaking artifact activated around me even now, but this presentation was a deliberately crafted one.

"What is the state of our recently deployed troops along the western coast of Sapin?" Seris asked brusquely.

Behind me, I sensed as the man's heartbeat began to rapidly increase, his features paling as he swallowed. "Scythe Seris, I..."

Seris stopped abruptly, causing the captain behind us to lurch.

"What is their status?" Seris repeated, barely turning her head. And from the bare inflection of her intent, it was clear to both me and the poor captain that she would not ask again.

"Reports are sparse," the man forced out, squeezing his eyes shut. "But it appears they were routed despite their ambush of the Dicathians near the town of Slore. Retainer Jagrette accompanied the formation, but we have yet to hear back from her."

The man stood stock still, his heartbeat so loud I was almost certain it would be audible even to the untuned ears of Seris.

"You are not telling me everything, captain," Seris scolded coolly. "You withhold information."

The man gulped, and I felt a pang of pity for the man as his intent rippled with fear. He went back to one knee, his forehead glistening with sweat as he pressed it to the dirt beneath us. "There were rumored sightings of a young man with auburn hair wielding four elements on the side of the Dicathians," he whispered. "It is suspected that Lance Godspell was present. And if Retainer Jagrette is not returning communication..."

The man trembled as he left the rest unsaid. Seris' aura flared slightly in feigned anger–at least I believed it to be feigned–and she exhaled an irritated sigh through her nose. The air held a pregnant pause as the Scythe visibly considered her response.

But the captain's words derailed my train of thought, calling to mind my bare brush with the newest Lance of Dicathen. I hadn't been able to sense Arthur's mana, seeing as it was masked under the effects of Mirage Walk.

But he could not hide his heartbeat from my ears. And just like Scythe Nico's flaring lifeforce, so too did Arthur bear the telltale signs of rebirth. It was hard to describe: like a flower that had just come into bloom, or a sprouting shoot of grass after a long winter. There was a vibrant rhythm to it, utterly distinct.

My thoughts were forcibly drawn back to the situation at hand as I heard the bated breaths and ratcheting lifeforces of the kneeling Alacryans and dwarves all around. Seris looked ever-so-slightly displeased, a slight downturn to her lips as she appeared to inspect the captain.

This is another mask of hers, I thought, inspecting the nervous crowd around us. The fear they pulsed into the ambient mana was liquid and tarry, flowing like sap as I sensed it through their intent. The general who cultivates fear. The Scythe of Alacrya.

"Then it appears we must find the reason for this failure," Seris said as she began to walk forward again. "Tell me, who leads the dwarves in this establishment?"