Siren's Kiss

70: Bleeding the Leech Part Two

A bustling day on the island of Sanctum Aeternum. Members of the regalia, dressed in fine suits and carrying elegant parasols, gathered as a distinguished crowd within the Grand Hall, watching as the High Sentinel stood before them, his gaze sweeping over each one.

Clewyn Dorilius, an infamous member of the regalia rumored to be operating covert military bases across the Seven Seas, was known for raising orphans and separating them based on their secondary gender. He had been grumbling over the delay of the long-awaited Festival of Gods—a celebration known to stretch on for days. Clewyn and his entourage had eagerly anticipated the festivities, especially after receiving word that his latest shipment had arrived: a cargo hold filled with omegas.

"What could possibly be more important than honoring the immortal deity who created our world?" Clewyn's voice boomed, echoing through the hall. "These sirens have never cared about heritage the way we templars do. And now they ask for our aid? For what purpose?"

Isadora stepped forward, her gaze steady on Clewyn's arrogant figure. He was not only insufferable but also overweight, his beady eyes reminding her of the warthog Drake had slaughtered to save her once. "Captain Merror isn't just any citizen of Thalassara. He led the siren fleet, and his arrival on our shores with an empty, barely intact ship is alarming." She bit back the urge to mention that Merror was also wounded, likely infected—facts that would mean nothing to this self-indulgent gathering.

Clewyn spat on the floor, and Isadora instinctively took a step back, her expression twisting in disgust at his disrespect. "You care so much for these sirens, and that is why our kingdom has begun to crumble! Do not forget that, if not for the benevolence of the regalia, you and your kind would still be squabbling over ships and treasures with those filthy pirates!"

A soft chuckle drifted from behind them, and the crowd parted to make way for Lucius Shadowbane. "Clewyn, my friend," he said smoothly. "This isn't the proper way to address a Templar Grandmaster. I'm sure our High Sentinel has a sound reason for delaying the festivities."

Isadora narrowed her eyes at him. "Where have you been?" she demanded.

"Isa... am I not a Grandmaster, like you?" Lucius replied, unfazed. "I've been traveling from city to city, reassuring our citizens and ensuring them that all is under control."

Isadora opened her mouth to retort, but a steady hand on her shoulder stopped her. High Sentinel Aurelius Stormwarden, unwilling to waste time dealing with the regalia's grievances or questioning Lucius's recent absence, spoke with authority. "In light of recent events, I am postponing the festival until it is deemed safe to proceed. The situation in Thalassara takes utmost precedence, and until we receive word from King Cyraeni himself, there will be no celebration."

The backlash was immediate; a clamor of complaints and anger filled the Grand Hall. With a wave of his hand, Aurelius signaled the Templar Knights, who quickly surrounded the hall, creating a path for him to exit through a backdoor leading to the infirmary. Isadora followed closely, ignoring Lucius's malicious grin.

"What a selfish lout," she muttered, not bothering to hide the disdain in her voice.

To her surprise, the High Sentinel smiled. "Agreed. As self-serving as they are, we still need their financial support. Most of the advanced territories and high-security facilities are controlled by the regalia. It would be unwise to wage war against them."

Isadora didn't respond, merely pursed her lips as she shifted her focus to a more pressing matter. "Are you going to check on Captain Merror's condition?"

"Aye," Aurelius replied, a hint of teasing in his voice that left her cheeks flushed. "Oddly enough, I haven't seen a single pirate in sight. What do you think?"