Seishan sat on a chair. Not a fancy wooden one, nor a hastily prepared but gaudy seat in a war room. It was a simple plastic chair. Something about the mundanity of it grounded her.
And she needed to be grounded. A couple of months ago, her entire world was flipped on its head.
Gehrman had been growing more tense, but she figured that was because of the war. She never imagined he would do something like this. Ceres wasn't just a vassal, she was practically family. Seishan had always thought of the woman as something akin to an aunt.
Now she was dead, assassinated brutally on Gehrman's orders.
There was a mess of emotions that came with that realization, so much of them that it overloaded her. It was so overwhelming, that it looped right back around to being numb.
When her attendant had told her in a panic of what happened, Seishan left. Her mother had called for a council, but she couldn't be bothered to go. All that she gave her family was a promise to return before the true war began.
That time was fast approaching. The campaign had been against nightmare creatures so far, invading Godgrave and preparing the battlefield for their great conflict.
Funnily enough, what she was doing recently.
In this empty, unmarked warehouse in NQSC, Saints started to appear. One of them whose appearance she dreaded the most, would probably be late.
She played his appearance over and over agan in her mind. What she would say, how she would react. There was a decent chance she would just freeze up.
However, that wasn't an option.
Caster, Oskar, and her sister appeared along with the Vassals who had invaded New Yharnam.
"How many agreed?" Seishan asked, curiosity bubbling up inside her.
Silent Stalker's was bewildered, and the other Song Saints looked actually pale and unnerved.
"Almost all of them. A few thousand families with newborns opted to be relocated. Hopefully, the House of Night sends somebody."
As if on cue, three more figures appeared.
The salty scent of the violent seas invaded the space as the heirs of Storm God entered with little fanfare.
They were led by an older, gruff looking man. His age made him all the more formidable, as any elder who managed to survive to this day had to face an unnatural amount of challenges…yet this man, Saint Typhoon, did not triumph over his last challenge.
Surreptitiously, Seishan glanced at Silent Stalker, whose gaze lingered on the old elder of Night.
So he took the old man then. As far as I'm aware, he was the one who the Night Garden was beholden to. Though they do seem to rotate who is at the bow of the ship. I imagine Mordret simply took over whoever ownership was transferred to in order to maintain the Great Citadel for mother.
The younger man with bright hair beside the grizzled veteran spoke up.
"If it's a few thousand, then it's no trouble. The Night Garden produces her own supply of food. So long as they tether themselves to her, it won't be an issue," Saint Aether said.
"However, we will need more details first," the other man spoke. He held a distinct air about him, though Seishan couldn't put her finger on it. Each of the House of Night Saints seemed to inexplicably possess the Storm God's Divine Lineage in some capacity, but this one was different.
"Saint Naeve, I assure you that your clan will be compensated," Caster started to speak but was cut off as a loud crack sounded.
All eyes turned to Typhoon, whose cane had slammed into the floor so hard it created cracks.
"Not that," the old man growled. His eyes, surprisingly, turned to Silent Stalker. "I heard from the other Princess that we have some neutral ground here, and she showed real sincerity. However, I thought the others in Song were to be kept out of the loop."
Rusty and sharp air billowed off the man.
"You already tested us with the stunt with Anvil's bastard. He assured us that the Night Garden would return to our hands within a year. So why the hell are you suddenly asking more from us?"
Seishan and the other Song Saints all blinked in surprise.
"What…are you talking about?"
"What are you talking about!? That little shit just up and vanished the other day, a part of him is laying dormant in my eye and still has control over the Citadel. So how and when are we getting it back?"
Everyone in the room was kept in stunned silence. Naeve seemed to sense that something was amiss and Aether appeared to just be trying not to shrink from his elders yelling.
Suddenly, there was a sharp laugh.
It came from the only Master in the room.
Oskar's face was twisted into a shocked grin.
"Wait, you're telling me Mordy didn't actually kill you guys? Ki Song sent him out on a mission to wipe out your whole clan as I recall."
The tension in the room reached its breaking point, with everyone extremely confused, concerned, and or panicked.
"I suppose, he must have misinformed us," Saint Naeve stepped forward, an uneasy look in his eye.
"Allow me to explain. The Prince of Nothing boarded our ship a while ago, and at a certain point challenged me to a Soul Duel…I lost. However, he did not erase me. For whatever reason he seemed unwilling. So instead he struck a deal. He would defeat all of the Saints in the House of Night by himself, no Reflections or Echoes. In exchange, we would have over the Citadel for a time. If we won, he would swear loyalty to us."
Naeve's gaze turned to the side slightly as a foul scowl appeared on Typhoons.
"...We lost. Not in a Soul Duel, but true combat."
"If it was in the damn water he would've been dead in seconds," Typhoon muttered.
"Well, we tried to throw him in, but he just kept teleporting back so–" Aether was trailed off after receiving from a murderous glare from his elder."
"The way he explained it to us then, was that Gehrman would be making a move to interfere with the war, ensuring a peaceful resolution. We've only ever had positive interactions with him and the New Workshop," Naeve nodded to Caster and Oskar.
"He said there was also a contingency in case things went south, that he, Gehrman, and the other strongest Saints in the world would rise up to battle the Sovereigns themselves, and that there were players directly under the Supremes who were on board with the plan."
The tension in the room had eased at this point, replaced with utter shock. The fact that even after everything, the murderous psychopath had not taken at the very least a few Saints from Night was absurd.
Seishan turned her head to Caster and Oskar.
"Did Gehrman offer him something?"
Oskar scowled in response. "As I recall, Gehrman promised the opportunity to reflect his Aspect to make a Supreme Memory. However, that was just to get him to agree to not target innocents. We were under the impression he fully intended to slaughter everyone else."
The lanky man crossed his arms. "From the sounds of it, he never intended to take out Night…I think we got swindled."
Even as he said this though, everyone else was marveling over the fact that Mordret had not spilled any blood. It was antithetical to his character.
Yet, here they were, not puppets of the Prince of Nothing.
"I gave him a Memory to add to the payment," a sinister dark voice echoed from the shadows. A figure appeared, clad in imposing black and donning the mask of a demon.
A chill went through everybody. This unknown player that suddenly appeared arrived with an eerie presence that was extremely powerful.
Only Caster and Oskar appeared unsuprised at the figure.
Seishan briefly wondered about the faint familiarity she felt toward the imposing figure, but she dismissed it as happenstance. What really made her feel that way, she thought, was the fact that the aura he exuded was just as daunting as those who stood at the pinnacle. The Divine Aspect users.
The abyssal eyes under the demon mask turned to look at the House of Night representatives, more specifically, at Naeve. Whatever was hidden within that look was unable to be parsed out, but due to the fact that this guy had technically saved their elders, they couldn't see it as hostile.
"Who are you?" Typhoon grumbled.
"You may call me the Lord of Shadows," the man said. With his words, the shadows in the room suddenly seemed to grow deeper and more dangerous.
However, the air of intimidation was quickly dismissed.
"His name is Sunny," Caster said immediately afterward. Then he gave the figure a side eye. "Don't try to act cool."
The shadow-figure froze his whole body going tense. Then he let out a sound between a sigh and a growl.
"Go to hell, Caster."
"We're already there, your lordship," he sneered.
The shadows seemed to creep along the walls, as if dangerously stalking Honor Fell. However, that changed in an instant as the next group arrived.
"Hm, seems we are late to the party," a casual and booming voice echoed. Effie, Raised by Wolves, was accompanied by Kai and Jet.
There were two others, and their presence shocked the rest of them the most.
The first was the dainty yet ethereal Song of the Fallen. The most powerful seer in the world, and prized tool of Valor.
The second, was perhaps the most famous individual in two realms, whose popularity perhaps even surpassed the Sovereigns themselves.
With a wave of white hair and blazing eyes, Changing Star of the Immortal Flame Clan entered.
So it was that a cabal had gathered.
The reclusive Lord of Shadows.
The heads of the New Workshop.
The three most powerful Government Saints.
Three representatives of the House of Night.
Two Princesses of Song and a few of their Vassals.
And Song of the Fallen and Changing Star.
Though he was not here, the rest of them could feel the two others who had orchestrated such a meeting.
The Prince of Nothing and The Red Judge were there as well, in spirit.
This was the force that would fight against the Supreme rulers of two worlds.