Tristan showed no reaction to Bart's words, for he had already heard the news several days prior. Bart, however, frowned as confusion slowly overtook his expression.
"Are you not worried?"
Tristan scoffed, "Decker Vermillion knows nothing of my whereabouts, so why should I be worried?"
Bart shook his head before throwing a pile of parchment in front of Tristan, atop which was the picture of a woman. She possessed long black hair with silver streaks spread throughout it, fair skin, and a physique that almost resembled that of someone who had gone days without eating. Her eyes were blue like the summer sky, though they were partially concealed behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
Bart pointed aggressively at her picture as he slowly raised his gaze, meeting Tristan's eyes.
"This woman's name is Elizabeth Jameson, and do you know what her ability is? Telepathy."
Tristan paused for a moment, slowly picking up the papers that had been thrown toward him. He began reading through the woman's information. She had fought in the war against the Northern Continent years ago—the same war Decker had fought in—and she had been pivotal in turning the tides of the conflict because of her ability. It allowed her to determine exactly where enemy soldiers were positioned and anticipate when they would strike. She could read their minds, allowing the Constellan soldiers to formulate counters against practically every attack the enemy attempted.
Reading this made Tristan realize the severity of what could happen. He placed a hand over his mouth as a terrifying realization dawned upon him.
"Decker is looking for this woman. So she can find me, and if she finds me, she'll know what I'm thinking, meaning..."
"Our plan could be compromised," Bart said, finishing the sentence.
A heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of Bart's feet against the wooden floor. Tristan began to think deeply as he read through the woman's papers once more. His eyes moved across the information until he found something that immediately caught his attention.
Her last known location.
Sector 3, Middle District, Quadrant A.
Tristan raised a brow and began rubbing his temple as the location confused him.
"What is Quadrant A?"
Bart leaned slightly forward in his seat before answering, "It's the uppermost part of each District. Why do you ask?"
"It says her last known location was in Sector 3, Middle District, Quadrant A." Tristan paused for a moment as he began tapping a finger against the wooden armrest. "Since we know the area where she was last seen, we can begin searching for her and then capture her."
"Capture her?" Bart questioned, his voice laced with skepticism.
Tristan nodded. "Yes. If her abilities are as powerful as it says here, she could be extremely useful to us in the future. But if we aren't able to capture her, then we kill her."
Bart slowly leaned back into his chair, his one good eye shifting toward Claire, who stood silently behind Tristan.
"You have nothing to say about this?"
"If Tristan believes that is the right path, then I will believe in him," Claire responded with certainty.
Bart scoffed. "I think it's best that I distance myself from this one. If my uncle does see me, he'll know that something is wrong."
"That is fine. Claire and I will be enough," Tristan replied.
Bart raised a brow as he began to question Tristan's sanity.
"There's no way you actually believe the two of you will be enough. Decker Vermillion is not a weak man."
"Neither Claire nor I are weak. And I'm not alone," Tristan said with a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.
From Tristan's shadow, several dark figures slowly emerged. Warriors from the past, an assortment of soldiers brought back into existence through Tristan's necromancy. They were his legion of shadows, and standing at the forefront was Killington, the first of his shadow soldiers. Thanks to Tristan's steadily growing power, he had become capable of summoning more of them without immediately feeling exhausted. His legion had become a vital part of his growth, as well as a formidable asset in battle. Tristan could overwhelm many of his opponents through sheer numbers alone, drowning them beneath an endless tide of resurrected warriors.
Tristan joined all ten of his fingers together and rested his chin upon them.
"As you can see, Bart, I have more than enough to deal with Decker Vermillion."
Tristan and Claire soon entered a carriage that would take them toward Quadrant A. Tristan wanted the mission to remain simple—a two-person team that would not attract too much unnecessary attention. That was why he had chosen Claire. She was strong, but more importantly, at this moment, she was his closest friend.
Even though Tristan had changed over time and had slowly learned how to trust people, he still could not shake the imprint that had been left upon his mind. He continued to doubt people, even those who had proven themselves to be closest to him. He did not want to feel this way, but it was simply part of his nature.
He shook his head as he slumped his shoulders, disappointed in himself.
"Is something wrong?" Claire asked, her tone soft and caring, almost resembling that of a mother concerned for her child.
"It's nothing. Just thinking."
Claire smiled. "You've changed, though I can't quite see the change. I can feel it. Your voice, the beat of your heart, and even the warmth you now emit are all different."
Tristan chuckled awkwardly as his eyes fell toward the red floor of the carriage, before shifting toward the window that had been opened slightly. He did not completely agree with Claire's words. Of course, he had grown, but was it truly enough to say that his growth had been significant? If someone were to ask him to entrust his life to another person, he knew that he still couldn't.
He sighed as his thoughts inevitably drifted toward Amelia.
In Tristan's mind, Amelia was the kind of person he wanted to become: strong, caring, and ambitious. She had definitely grown stronger over the last six months, but the person who had undergone the most significant change was Garfield. Tristan had come to the conclusion that his father had begun investing in Garfield. Two obsidian axes, strong and stern, much like the man himself. Garfield no longer joked or smiled as often. Instead, he scowled, carrying himself with an intensity that had not existed before.
It was obvious that trying to live up to the expectations placed upon him was beginning to take its toll.
Tristan watched as the houses passed by one after another while the horses galloped forward, pulling their carriage through the streets. The wheels rolled across the cobblestone roads, causing the carriage to shake lightly with every uneven stone they crossed.
Then, slowly, the movement became more aggressive.
The carriage began to accelerate, racing past the buildings so quickly that Tristan barely had enough time to appreciate their architecture. He turned toward Claire, only to realize that she was no longer sitting in her seat.
'What's going on?' he thought.
Suddenly, a voice reached him—soft, calm, and gentle. It belonged to a woman.
"Tristan Merigold. My name is Elizabeth Jameson, the woman you are searching for."
Tristan looked outside once more, only to see the ground slowly begin to shatter beneath them, leaving the carriage riding upon nothing but an endless void. The buildings surrounding them began to crumble, their debris floating upward into the sky as though gravity itself had ceased to exist.
Tristan grunted as he leaned back into his seat.
"An illusion?"
"Maybe. Who knows? It could be real, or it could be fake," she replied.
Tristan looked toward the roof of the carriage, almost as though Elizabeth were speaking to him from somewhere beyond it.
"So, what do you want?"
"No, no, no, Tristan Merigold. What do you want? Exactly...," Her voice carried a faint amusement, "don't answer that. I already know. But I will tell you the same thing I told your father. I will help those who are most beneficial to me."
Tristan raised a brow.
"Beneficial? You want money?"
"Money is too menial. I need more... I want more. But we shall see whose proposal is the most appealing."
Her voice began to fade as the illusion around Tristan slowly started to dissolve.
"Goodbye, Tristan Merigold. I hope to see you soon."