After the echo of the small prayer faded, Fallyn continued.
"Though as beloved as the High Monarch is in our hearts, it is at the same time frustrating to see what His death brought upon us all, especially your Blood, My Lord Blanc."
"No fault lies on the High Monarch for the betrayal of the Iron Line or the involvement of the Ulveth Kingdom," Blanc shook his head, "Traitors and opportunists act only at such times to take advantage of the chaos."
"Have they really the means to use Morois as weapons?" Constantine asked.
"They do," Blanc replied, "We fought them ourselves when we were on the run."
"Vicious curses," Celine sighed, adding to Blanc's sentence, "They disregard pain as if it's an annoyance, and fight savagely until their end."
"No wonder Noble Bloods flee or ally with them," Fallyn clicked her tongue, placing her wine cup back on the table, "But I would rather die and sentence all my Blood to perish than ally with men who use curses as weapons."
"It is good to know there are Noble Bloods who see reason, unlike others," Blanc added.
"What do you mean, Brother?" Lune asked.
Constantine opened his mouth to reply, but Blanc stopped him before he got the chance.
"Nothing, Little Flower, just saying what crosses my mind, do not mind me," he said, turning his eyes towards their host, who realized what and why he was saying that.
Fallyn, in all her grace, decided it was time to change the subject.
"By the by, could you tell me more about these beast men?" Fallyn asked, looking at the five.
"Metamorphs they call themselves," Celine replied, "We don't know many things about them other than basic details by observing them while we were in contact."
"Tell me more about it, if you can, that is," Fallyn said, curiosity on her aged face.
"With pleasure, Lady Aron," Celine smiled proudly as she began telling her some of the not-so-important things about their ally.
It's weird, Blanc thought, focusing on his hearing and their surroundings.
He was not able to hear Faye or her approach, especially through the constant movement of people around the mansion.
But changing into clothes surely cannot take this long.
It felt… off in many ways.
He did not wish to act like this, not when such a thing would surely offend a possible ally of theirs. One of perhaps too few.
Maybe the lack of human contact made him like this, or maybe living most of the last two months in the wilderness did not help either.
It was worth mentioning, however, that it could have been his sharpened instincts telling him he was in danger.
Yet he did not wish to act upon such a baseless thing.
Men aren't the same as the common beast.
There is reasoning, experience, wisdom, intellect, and many other things one has to consider before drawing a certain conclusion.
But his mind told him to focus, to prepare himself for the worst in case something was indeed happening.
So, just as a precaution, he took his hidden knife and placed it between his legs on the chair as Celine was telling her about the Metamorphs.
During that thought, he felt the monologue approaching.
That, too, is weird if I think about it.
Why?
Think about it, why is Celine only telling her about the basics, not mentioning our relationship with the Metamorphs?
Maybe she doesn't deem it necessary.
Or maybe she suspects the same thing I do, or maybe she is aware of something I do not.
Or maybe she is not as paranoid as I am, seeing as I once again talk with myself.
Don't blame me for seeing what's in front of my eyes.
Is it really, though? Or am I just overthinking things?
Would it not be better to be safe than sorry?
I pulled the knife out for that same reason, didn't I?
Not enough, I fear.
More than this, and I will be found. And if they really are on our side, then I fucked a whole possible alliance before it even got the chance to form.
At least probe around.
Probe around?
Yes, ask them stuff, see if they-
No, hold on, this is madness. First of all, Lady Faye took us all the way here, and nothing happened on the road.
That's because she had to send her soldiers away to take the Metamorphs off her Domain. She could've set up an ambush.
She had to send all her soldiers to match the Metamorphs in strength. What ambush?
Precisely, that's why I'm here now. I might have stood a chance against a few soldiers, but against these people… do it.
At dinner, though?
Just ask shit, see if I'm overreacting or not.
Blanc sighed as the monologue vanished from his mind, allowing himself to turn his mind slightly towards the conversation still taking place.
"And that's the basic hierarchy by which they act upon," Celine concluded.
"Fascinating," Constantine muttered.
"Indeed," Fallyn replied, with Benedict nodding along, a wide smile on his face as he did so.
"If I may," Blanc spoke, interrupting their fascination, "I'm overly curious, my Lady Aron, as the Iron Line continues to rampage through the Empire's south, when they run out of things there, they might turn back north, towards Blood Certa and your Domains. Have you made any preparations for such a thing happening?"
"Not yet," Fallyn shook her head, "Why ask, though?"
"I hoped to get some pointers in the knows and hows on how a Noble Blood acts upon such a thought," Blanc muttered, "Apologies for asking such an out-of-nowhere question."
"Nonsense, my Lord Blanc, it's a fine thing to see the young interested in such things," Fallyn shook his apology off, "But you are not the heir of your Blood, are you?"
"No, my older brother is," Blanc explained, "But knowledge of warfare is not reserved for that position, after all."
A loud metal clank could be heard coming down a flight of stairs, silencing him.
The sound was loud enough for all to hear, clearly intentional in its approach as it began walking towards the door.
Slow and loud.