Garden Of The Abyss

"Is it so abnormal for friends to speak fondly of one another?"

Beatrice finally followed up once the silence had already settled in. Due to the nature of the vast foundation, the corridor they traversed was accompanied by many others, littered with countless rooms that were only diversified by small markings.

"And here I believed we were companions only by our sharing in extended lifespans."

Each step Ferstaus took resounded as the heels of his cross-laced boots made of spotless, black leather met with the ground.

"A young maiden such as myself could find herself hurt by such words, Anteros."

"Hoh, nonsense. You have a mind of steel and a heart of ice; words are naught but air to you, Beatrice."

Rolling these words from his tongue in a playful manner, Ferstaus looked back at the woman who held the same, indifferent smile as he tipped his tall hat, "I jest."

"Though we do share a commonality in our tenure in this world, we're much different, Anteros."

"That I agree with."

Bouncing with every stride taken, Ferstaus' fiery, lavish locks swayed as the sage simply looked upon his back as she followed him down the corridors that felt almost infinite both in length and options.

"Your love for this world hasn't been dampened in the slightest. As for myself...I find myself jaded by time, eroded by its unstoppable tide."

"I'd say it's because you've lived far longer than I, Beatrice. I can't say I'm walking fearlessly into the future--each day I fear what sky I may see when I peer out my window. For now, I love Gaia, I love those who live upon it. Besides...Beatrice, your love for Mastorn remains; that is something that can't be eroded by time."

In contrast to his usual flamboyance, the nobleman spoke in a slightly more mellowed out tone.

"I'd like to believe that myself, but my loyalty to Mastorn has slowly shifted from my natural born duty rather than love."

Speaking this quietly, Beatrice placed her hand over her chest, tracing her lithe fingers across the pale skin visible from her mostly covered bosom.

Finally stopping at the very end of a corridor blanketed by dazzling marble, reinforced by glazed wood, Ferstaus stopped and opened the door formed of reddened, smooth timber as he gestured for the sage to enter the room first.

"As fascinating as ever your tastes in the exquisite is, Anteros."

Taking a look around the private chambers of the nobleman, Beatrice took in the nonstandard sight; the bookshelves twisted into a spiral shape, formed of white wood that housed many books. With a bed fit for a king in its size, a curtain decorated with the subtleties of the distant stars veiled the furniture lined with plump, hazel sheets.

"On the contrary, I find my tastes have been left rather dulled by my stay here."

Snapping his fingers, Ferstaus spoke with a smile as his simple gesture seemed to command the door to shut itself behind the two.

"So, what is it that we need to discuss?"

With the two being fully secluded, Beatrice posed her question. Their privacy was assured by Beatrice's eyes as she could see the subtle, barely visible barrier that outlined the room; a spell that assured no sound escaped its perimeter.

"There are much too many words I could use, so I believe the simplest avenue would be visual information."

Saying this, Ferstaus had already slid his dark, unwrinkled coat from his body, unbuttoning his vest as the garments covering his torso eventually slid away--revealing his bare upper-body. Presenting his back to the sage, her eyes locked on the sigil etched onto the man's pale back.

It would be difficult to discern the identity of the scar-formed sigil, but the image of the robbed, mysterious figure formed by carved flesh, filled in with dried blood, was something the sage knew well.

"The Sigil of Belmon...what about it?"

"It burns once more. It seems they want returned to them what is theirs."

As he described this, a pained tone took hold of Ferstaus' words, bringing the sage to take a closer look--seeing that the flesh-inscribed sigil did indeed seem to be singing the man's flesh.

"An authority of one of the seventy-two...I see. Between the encounter with the goblin, and then the battle with Sloth that Sirius handled...it does indeed seem Belmon isn't sticking much to the shadows any longer. It'd make sense they'd want to retrieve one of their greater assets."

Commenting this as Beatrice took a closer look, inspecting the sigil as she placed her hand on her chin, the sage's words reeled in a nod in response from the nobleman, who slid his long-sleeved, pale shirt back on.

"Though, I find it unlikely they'd be able to reach you from within the Hollow Foundation."

"I agree, but...I know Belmon; that kingdom is filled with freaks that hold more determination, malice, and unpredictability than is reasonable. If they truly want their authority returned, they'll launch their attack--who knows when, or how--but it will happen."

Buttoning his shirt as he fixed his flared collar, Ferstaus spoke with a hint of worry before placing his colorful vest back on, slipping each tiny, sable button into its rightful place.

"I assume you have some sort of plan, then?"

"...Something like that. I believe what Belmon is aiming for is a full-manifestation rather than simply making someone act as the catalyst for one of the seventy-two's authority. If that's the case...should I die, you must make sure the black heart is destroyed. Should the one I house be fully summoned...the world itself could very well face utter ruin."

Sitting down on the end of the large bed, Ferstaus clutched his chest as his golden eyes wavered with such thoughts flooding from his lips.

"It is quite unlike you to speak so somberly, Anteros. Though, I understand; you of all people understand the horror of Belmon--as you were born in that twisted land. Even so, Anteros, Belmon is weakened right now. Sloth was eradicated by one of my Outlanders, Halphas met the same fate; those two required plentiful resources, no doubt, from Belmon."

Beatrice ran her pale fingers along the smooth, pale wood that made up the bookshelves scattered around the room as she spoke, though her words didn't settle the worried aura that hung around the nobleman.

"True as that may be, that weakness is all the more reason why they'll want me. I've already begun preparations: The Sky Dragon Conglomerate, Reid, Giantsbane, and the highest ranking solo adventurers will remain here."

"I assume you brought me here then to keep the Outlanders here as well?"

Ferstaus nodded his head in response to the sage's question, standing back up from the bed as he looked up at the ceiling that was formed of a mystical glass; such a magical material housed a view of the cosmos, one unable to be seen normally.

"...You're right, Beatrice; it is quite unlike me to feel this way. I don't fear for my own life, or whatever fate awaits me should I fall to their wicked hands...but knowing full well what depravity they have planned for this world--I shudder; my skin grows cold, my heart pounds against my chest--I must stop them. I need your help, friend of mine."

Extending his silken-clad hand to the sage dressed in lavish, yet dark garments, Ferstaus met his weathered, but vibrant eyes with that of Beatrice's own.

Standing still for a moment as she peered into the nobleman's eyes as if deciphering his very being, she finally accepted his hand--shaking it lightly, "You know very well my assistance is natural when it comes to such matters. Belmon is a danger to Mastorn; the greatest of all, I'd say."

"Thank you, Beatrice. Then let us prepare our counterattack against the forgotten kingdom."

With this proclamation, a new battle loomed over the Hollow Foundation and its members.