Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Chapter 109 The Brood, The Bard and The Bad

Eofel, Feinheath.

The continent where humans populated, Feinheath, was in a time of tension as a huge change was about to occur. At least it was in the works, still being deliberated.

All three of its nations, Emeradis, Pelian and Maqui, were greatly unsettled by the potential chaos that would ensue.

A collusion of different races was premature.

This was what everyone thought.

Mumbles could be heard among the nobles about the Royal family and their notice on how they would be considering integrating Feinheath and the great land of Opungale to its East, the land of the Sif, into one solid and powerful nation.

The specifics were rather ominous as most of the general public did not know the plays that were happening in the shadows which prompted this decision. It was not a decision to be taken lightly.

An official meeting was scheduled to happen in a few days with an important personage from the long-eared race and the people waited with bated breaths for the result.

Their societies were unprepared for this change.

Amidst all this turmoil and anxiety, a certain man was sitting cross-legged on a rug in a vastly crowded marketplace where merchants were dealing openly and stealthily with interested parties, coaxing and lying through their teeth about ‘sweet deals’ that grant grand fortune.

Middle and high class individuals travelled past the dusty roads within carriages and on foot, passing ordinary folk as well as beggars that barely wore anything upon their fly ridden bodies while begging for alms.

Loud chatter, the smell of food and scent of perfumes as well as body odour diffused within the air amid the clopping steps yet the aforementioned man who sat merely grabbed his doss lute and took a deep breath.

He had long, sunflower blonde hair and brown eyes, sunken cheeks and a face with a gaze unbefitting of his supposed age.

Clearing his throat as he sat among a few hawkers almost inconspicuously, caught the attention of a few passers-by who gawked in surprise at seeing his face.

“Hey! Isn’t that Erlton the Reader?” one person said while pulling on the individual at his side.

“What?! Where?!” the person who had been made known this shocking fact scurried to look in the direction the other person was pointing._.

Soon, a cluster of people gathered while pointing at the man with the lute as if he was some mystical wonder. In some ways, he was and among the looks of surprise and respect, looks of rage, disgust and indifference could also be seen directed at him.

The man, whose name was Erlton raised his hand, the air changing as a deep silence invited itself, pushing away the noise.

Erlton strummed the lute slowly, producing a sweet musical tune that caught the attention of everyone around regardless of their personal opinion of him.

Whenever this mysterious bard appeared, he would sing a ballad that usually held a message for the people.

It was never guaranteed that he would spew blessing or curse but the people sought to hear him anyway.

To hear vague messages open to interpretation.

However, this time around…

“This is a tale,

A humble bard details,

To enlighten the masses,

Before the memory so passes~”

Everyone held their breathes, paying keen attention to the ballad.

Perhaps this man would address the current issue that had everyone in an inflated tiff.

“And so I shall sing and shout,

About a single league about,

Four hegemons of old,

Their story now retold,

Tracing ages, years before,

And from my speech now comes the lore~,

So lend your ears and hear,

Which four you ought to fear,

Turn not your head over yonder,

Of these gods you are to ponder,

Suzamete the Deitess,

So beautiful, so peerless,

The wind, the skies she maketh,

So bright, so blue, I seeth,

The land that lies beneath my feet,

Quite hard, so firm, from brown I eat,

Very good, he says Quintess the great,

When he sees the crops I cultivate,

The waters and sees, abound and rain,

Sly Listafelle she floods my brain,

We can all agree she is insane,

Still I drink and dance to cheer her name,

To the Depths below I wonder,

What evil rides the ‘Under’,

That Boron made, a terror,

I sprint and run in horror~,

And so I shall sing and shout,

About a single league about,

Let not your faith be quelled,

For it all shall stand upheld,

Drink wine and serve the ales,

Yet, beware…”

Erlton suddenly broke the rhythm and tune as he raised his head to deliver the last part of the ballad in a hollow tone that caused a chill among the masses.

“… of a shadow that never pales…”

The crowds gasped and sweated as in the next moment, the same bard they locked their gazes on suddenly vanished before a few men decked in thick heavy armours, pushing away the crowd as they moved with shocking bursts of speed could reach him.

***

A single candle was lit atop a crude looking table that creaked with the slightest movement from the man who sat with his arms upon it.

The light from the melting construct barely drove away the darkness in the small room where nothing but the aforementioned piece of furniture and a chair could be seen.

The sun was bright outside but it failed to penetrate this room that seemed detached from the outside clamour and chatter, instead being smothered by an eerie silence.

The figure who sat at the small table wore a dark hood that looked to be made of sack cloth, attached to a pitiful looking robe tied at the waist by a string.

On his face was a peculiar wooden mask, half of it poorly painted green and the other half white. Two skewed eye holes were carved upon it allowing him to see but barely showing his eyes in this darkness.

Aside from merely shifts and shudders, the mam never made another movement as he waited.

Soon, a door creaked from somewhere within, footsteps being heard as two figures appeared before him, one male, the other female.

The young female had a shoulder length copper shimmer coloured hair and green eyes that gleamed even in the darkness while the middle aged male had a short tufts of leather black hair and dull, ocean blue eyes.

“We confirmed it, Actuass. Eobald is dead. His link to undeath was severed roughly a day ago. The same is the case for the boy with the Imagining Sword Technique. He died too,” the young woman reported with a calm expression.

The man with the mask whose name was revealed to be Actuass fidgeted and raised his head to gaze at the woman, from his right eye which peaked from the mask, a bright hazel leaking out.

“Cause?” he asked curtly.

“That’s still unknown, unfortunately,” the middle aged man replied, continuing to speak as he voiced his opinion in a rather edgy tone. “Eobald was too rash. He should have paid more attention to who he revealed his identity to. He was too eager to rise up the ranks in the organisation, spreading his presence so crudely with that bunch of clowns, the Idea Ark, or whatever.”

“No,” Actuass said. “He had the right idea. Although, I do agree that he was racing towards a false light at the end of a fake tunnel. He needed more time to solidify trust. What has become of this charade enactment of his?”

“They perished somewhere in the Tremur. I’ll give him credit for cleaning up his mess somehow though,” the woman said, her expression not changing at all. “What do we do now?”

Actuass did not respond for a while as he sank into his thoughts. Neither of the two bothered him as this was a habit of his when he contemplated at a deeper level.

At a level that transcended life.

After a few minutes, his voice emerged, bearing a sound strategy.

“Eobald has faded but that should not affect us. Our roots and seeds have already been set even though the Purity is closely watching and hunting us. First, call for a meeting with House EverSword and tell them of their boy’s demise. Demand the next one in line and tell them to indoctrinate him properly. That’s not our duty, its theirs.”

“Understood. I heard that unlike the predecessor, the younger EverSword boy is much more talented in the Imagining Technique and is attending a local academy. Perhaps the House is trying to avoid having this new heir stray from the house too?” the young woman said.

“Perhaps.”

“Next, make a call to all our branches in the three nations. Tell them to enact the first phase.”

The man and woman before Actuass showed expressions of surprise.

“We’re already doing it, huh?” the middle aged man wore a bitter smile for a second before nodding.

The woman at his side took a deep breath and also nodded.

Actuass saw their expressions but ignored this flicker in their resolve.

“Yes. Death is an ordained fate with a purity of its own. None of them understand, but they will soon.”