The King Trials 2: Beyond.

~The Calm Before The Storm~

He stands behind a huge rectangular table with the same length of a map unfurled upon it. From what I can tell, it is a rare. Geographical map of grids, scale and accuracy of all the realms known to us: coastlines, rivers, oblique mountains, towns and territories and other foreign dominions. The colourful symbology represents various landmark features. So too are the sparseness: the empty spaces and places yet to be discovered.

Schwick closes the door behind him, posting himself before it, and that is when Primus Kelan reveals the reality of the matter. Expounding on the dire scope of danger that is hurtling towards Urium in an inescapable speed.

I watch the Second Officer's face change from inherent staidness to a calm chaos.

"Hold on yol' frockers," Schwick blurts from the rear. When the attention flits to him, he visibly recoils. "What you speak of is not just an invasion, it'll mean war, one rivalling the scale of Pavelia."

Scant of breath, my breathing becomes audible to even me. It's like there's not enough air in the room.

Devwar nods dazedly. "Even if we succeed in delivering the warning, even if the Avangard Legion makes it in time, this treason.... Urium will not survive a war. Lands devastated by the scourge, torn between the Pantheon and the Empire. A war which will force allies of the other domains in Urium to rally on either the side of Emikrol or the High King."

"You see our dilemma," Kelan says, sparing me a maddening amount of frequent looks. "But if the Legion is summoned in time, it can alleviate the devastation. Our only concern is arriving at the Pantheon as soon as possible. The rest we have no control over."

The draw of his stare is powerful, and a moment later, my gaze creeps back to him.

"This makes little sense," Devwar says, hunching over to press his knuckles on the edge of the table. "The Emikrol Empire has been loyal since the new regime, the rise of the monarchy. You mean to say that was all a facade for them to amass in strength and reclaim what they believe belongs to them. The Crown?"

"Now you are catching on," Kelan says with biting ridicule.

They quickly exchange heated looks. The barest fission of disdain between them.

My mind hopelessly muddled, swirling in a choppy, messy pool of mayhem.

"Captain," the Second Officer says for the first time, his tenor cold with frosty formality. "A word."

Devwar looks to him reluctantly, before peeling away from the table to huddle in a corner with him, speaking in furtive tones. I bid a brief farewell, excusing my abrupt absence. Spelt by a wave of light-headedness. I move to exit and Schwick volunteers to escort me out.

The moment we emerge outside. I catch a glimpse of blue before it disappears behind the corner.

"Hera, are you alright?" He asks. A nipping draft passes by. I pull tightly at my coat. "Ya look a little... whitewashed."

Still disoriented, I push out a laugh that sounds contrived and worriedly feverish.

"I have seen better says," I admit nebulously. "This entire ordeal is wildly distressing."

"An understatement of the ages."

The comment draws out a small laugh with pinches of earnestness.

You have no idea, Schwick. No idea.

As we walk, I can feel his gaze in my periphery, probing for my attention. "Mackie was right bout one thing. Ye hair is...different," he says, and quickly adds, "a good different. Macks would accuse me of having a thing for raven-haired beauties."