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Stalemate – Part 01

Snow fell from the sky.

It settled on the tips of the spires of Sauville’s royal palace, then melted. It perched on the black-feathered caps of the cavalry and the manes of the well-groomed white horses. It landed on the ornate wall-mounted lamps of the department store, still glamorous despite dwindling commodities. On the cobblestones, and on the automobiles speeding past.

The front page of an old newspaper that flew onto the road displayed images of soldiers, weeping women, cities around the world reduced to rubble by bombings. The number of countries participating in the war continued to grow, and among them was a small island country in the Far East.

Snow had started to pile up at the village nestled at the base of the Alps. It blanketed houses with red triangular roofs and wooden-framed windows, coated the streets where hooves clattered as horses pulled carts, and even adorned the small decorative roofs above the door of the general store where village girls gathered.

People gazed at the sky, narrowing their eyes. The seasons were changing once more, autumn giving way to winter.

In the early morning, gentlemen hurried through the long corridor adorned with golden furnishings and lined with a red carpet. Every day, Sauville’s royal palace was consistently filled with government officials, including politicians, military personnel, nobles, as well as members of the Ministry of the Occult and the Academy of Science.

King Rupert de Gilet appeared markedly different from a year ago; he was restless and much thinner.

His eyes gleamed fiercely above dark circles. A strange, almost animalistic fervor leaked from underneath his elegant appearance. Seated on the throne, he listened to the officials’ reports while staring at the floor.

As winter approached, the Kingdom of Sauville found itself compelled to make another crucial decision. Should they launch an offensive themselves, or should they stay put and prioritize national defense? Chaos erupted at every meeting, and though an urgent conclusion was necessary, the answer remained elusive. The military and the Ministry of the Occult pushed for an aggressive approach, while the Academy of Science advocated for focusing on defense.

Either way, a substantial cost was evident. Over the past few months, the flames of war had spread across the world like a massive wildfire, and no nation, no individual, could extinguish them.

During the tumultuous meeting, King Rupert sat with a distant gaze, lost in contemplation. Listening attentively to both the military’s opinion and the Academy of Science’s projections for the upcoming war situation, he took a deep breath.

“Albert.” Suddenly King Rupert called Albert de Blois, a high-ranking member of the Ministry of the Occult. Taken aback, the assembly fell into silence.

Marquis de Blois rose to his feet. He had silver hair and eyes that bore a hint of cruelty in their green depths. One eye looked smaller through the lens of a monocle. His face looked eerie, as if one eye focused on the present while the other, peering through the lens, stared into the past. His pale lips parted, revealing a strangely reddish-black tongue.

He gazed down at the king with a fatherly tenderness. “Is something the matter?” His voice held a glimmer of triumphant elation.

King Rupert’s face was dark. Concerns were rising within the government that he might be slowly turning into a puppet of Marquis de Blois and the Ministry of the Occult.

The Ministry and Marquis de Blois liberally shared predictions of upcoming events with the royal palace and military. At the same time, the cautious approach advocated by the Academy of Science was also adopted, and valuable information was primarily utilized to defend the nation. Marquis de Blois, using the power of the occult, argued for increased engagement abroad. Over time, King Rupert also seemed to lean towards this perspective.

“Can you…” King Rupert said hesitantly. “Can you use that terrifying weapon you’re hiding within the Soleil Noir… to predict events in the more distant future?”

“More distant future?”

“Yes. Six months from now, a year, and five years. If you can see that far ahead, then I will consider following your plan.”

“Of course!” Marquis de Blois’ smile widened.

Instantly, King Rupert’s expression eased with relief. He gazed up at the Marquis with regal authority and declared, “Tonight. I will visit the Soleil Noir with you. I’m certain…”

Marquis de Blois bowed. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

The attendees watched restlessly as King Rupert and Marquis de Blois spoke in hushed tones.

Seeing the Marquis’s smile, Jupiter Roget ground his teeth. “If our kingdom were to toss itself into further conflict,” he told his close associate bitterly, “it could very well be because the Academy of Science’s influence wasn’t strong enough to protect us from fate and Albert de Blois’s clutches. We would carry a deep sense of shame for generations to come. And one of our major blunders… was not being able to dispose of that Monstre Charmant before the war began.”

The aide nodded grimly.

“We’ve known all along how crucial it is for the Academy of Science to eliminate it,” Jupiter continued, “but we couldn’t carry it out. Because Cordelia and her partner had dirt on me… the secrets of the memento box.”

“Yes.”

“On New Year’s Eve, anticipating the outbreak of war, we dispatched agents to Saint Marguerite Academy. The plan was to use the chaos to get rid of it once and for all. Our agents killed the Ministry officials at the inn, infiltrated the academy at midnight, and nearly cornered it. And yet…”

“Ahuh.”

“According to the report, some boy stopped them at the last minute, and they failed to eliminate the girl.”

“So I heard, Sir,” the aide said. “Apparently, the boy was of small build, around the same age as the Monstre Charmant. The darkness made it hard to see, but they seemed to be of Eastern descent.”

“Yes.”

“Based on the investigation, there was indeed one student from the Far East at Saint Marguerite Academy. But they’ve already returned to their home country, so we don’t know their current identity. Was he a spy from that nation disguised as a student? What could people from that country possibly gain by saving the life of the Monstre Charmant?”

“Hmm…” Roget placed a finger on his chin, pondering. “There was last year’s incident at the Lithuanian monastery, Beelzebub’s Skull, and on the Old Masquerade. We sent agents to both scenes, and if I recall correctly, there were reports of an Eastern boy accompanying it on both occasions.”

“That is correct, Sir.”

“Who was he? Why did he doggedly protect such a creature and keep saving its life? Was it part of a top-secret mission, or perhaps…” Jupiter Roget’s brows furrowed in thought. “Either way, that country is joining the war, too. It won’t be long before that boy will be sent to the battlefield.”

At the end of his gaze stood Marquis de Blois, the person who created the Monstre Charmant, nurtured it in secrecy, and now concealed it within the heavily guarded Soleil Noir. He was wearing a triumphant smile. Meanwhile, the king was slumped wearily against the throne, his eyes closed. Roget ground his teeth.

Suddenly, a series of sharp sounds filled the air as a plane zipped past. The officials all turned to look out of the window. The first snow of the year had started to fall. A few fighter planes crossed Saubreme’s dark skies. Everyone watched them with narrowed eyes. A siren wailed somewhere. The sun was obscured, and the sky had taken on the colors of early evening.