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The Fifteenth Mystery – Part 05

Leviathan’s figure emerged within the folds of the curtain. An enigmatic alchemist engaged in an illicit affair with Sauville’s Queen Coco Rose, he could transform a white rose into vivid blue and conjure gold from thin air. He, too, held a mysterious affiliation with the Ministry of the Occult.

This was the man he was looking for. A man who had the power to give him the world. If he could get him to his side…

But alas he, too, slipped from his grasp.

Before the initial storm—the Great War—battered the world, Leviathan antagonized the Academy of Science, struck fear in the king, and found himself hunted by the Royal Knights. He shattered Albert’s dream of creating homunculi that would fight for the Kingdom of Sauville.

Next to appear within the curtain’s intricate weave was a young female dancer.

Golden locks framing a delicate face, she sang and danced with glee, but her green eyes concealed sadness, the quiet anguish of a criminal banished from her home.

Albert was astounded. He never thought he would stumble upon a descendant of the ancients in Saubreme’s nightlife district. What a stroke of fortune! The prolonged days of disappointment after losing Leviathan had finally reached an end. Albert quivered with joy.

Swiftly, he captured the girl and confined her in the Blois tower. Before long, the girl—Cordelia Gallo, a descendant of the Gray Wolves—birthed a formidable cub.

Soon, an enormous storm arrived. Sauville, the little giant of Western Europe, barely weathered the calamitous period. However, the premonition of a second storm kept gnawing at Albert’s mind.

Would he make it in time?

The next storm promised to eclipse its predecessor in scope and destructive impact. Would the cub grow in time for its arrival?

Following childbirth, a strange painting—an image of the night Cordelia was abducted—arrived at the castle. Upon touch, it detonated, leaving Albert nearly blind in one eye. Perceiving it as a challenge from the ancient ones, he promptly relocated Cordelia from the castle.

The curtain displayed a young wolf left in a stone chamber, wailing in sorrow.

The spirits of both Cordelia Gallo and Victorique, abominable as his gentle brother during his youth, were among the obstructions that stood in the path of Albert’s lofty ambitions. These two creatures were mere weapons, and weapons didn’t need human-like awareness.

Admiration, hatred, and the craving for the occult surged through Albert’s mind like a tempestuous gale.

The wolf cub howled every night, unaware of its fate, and the sight of it wrung laughter from his very core.

Soon, the initial storm reached its conclusion. Sauville, a member of the victorious Allies, increased its national power. Simultaneously, scientific advancements expanded the Academy of Science’s influence domestically, escalating tensions with the Ministry of the Occult.

Albert, even now, still firmly believed that the occult would be beneficial for the nation and the people.

Marquis Albert de Blois cared deeply for Sauville. His love for the kingdom, where he was born and raised, was just as profound as the love he felt for his beautiful mother who brought him into this world.

And to love was to exert dominance. Since losing his mother at a young age, Albert’s sense of self had only burgeoned. He needed to protect Sauville, fight for it, and in doing so, bring the entire realm under his control.

By any means necessary… His eyes were fixed on the harrowing past rippling on the fabric. Sauville must weather the dreadful second storm. A nation is like a colossal battleship.

A smile attempted to tug at the corners of his mouth.

Sauville’s foreboding future appeared on the curtain’s folds—women shrieking, children standing still, fairies and half-human, half-beasts flitting about. Random individuals destined to be tossed by the approaching storm. Though accustomed to illusions, today’s visions were unusually vivid.

He even started hearing things, people desperately calling for his name as they fled from the flames raging in the ravaged streets of Saubreme.

We must overcome the storm and carry on living just as before!

“My Lord?”

Abruptly, he realized that the carriage had stopped.

The curtain drew on the past’s theatrical show. Props of all sizes were packed away. Actors playing the parts of the anguished Cordelia, the newborn Victorique, the beautiful mother, the older brother, all disappeared, presumably into the past, leaving no trace behind. Almost as if fearing Albert’s wrath, the master of the show.

The voices alone remained, faint and filled with distress.

Please help us, Albert.

Save us, the citizens of our nation, from the impending purgatory.

We need your power.

Albert…

Albert…

Albert!

Voices from the not-too-distant future. Only my wit and courage can save them. The illustrious Kingdom of Sauville is asking for my help, bestowing upon me power!

Albert!

Albert!

“The conference is about to begin, My Lord,” said the raspy voice of an old woman.

Marquis de Blois lifted his head. “Ah, yes!” he said delightfully. He sounded dazed, as if waking up from a dream. He alighted from the carriage leisurely.

Two lanky old women stood abreast, heads tilted in the same direction. They were clad in dresses of lavender and pink that were slightly different in design. Morella and Camilla. The twin agents of the Ministry of the Occult, clandestine figures who operated in the shadows.

They flanked Marquis de Blois on either side. Their true age, whether they were human or bore the blood of the ancient ones—all these were mysteries unknown even to the Ministry.

They were in front of the royal palace. Jade-green spires loomed high, and statues of winged goddesses stood guard, observing Marquis de Blois with their cold, stone eyes. Royal Knights standing in a row saluted him. Touching his monocle with a finger, the Marquis smirked.

No one could possibly best him. Not the Academy of Science, nor the military. Not even the king.

For he had his daughter, the last and greatest mind in all of Europe, on his side.

He strode briskly through the corridor, high-ceilinged and chilly, outfitted with lavish and vintage furnishings. Wall-mounted lamps flickered dimly. As the double doors at the end opened, a large table stretching across the room came into view. The chandelier hanging above was dazzlingly bright.

A vacant seat waited at the center of the table.

Prominent figures from the Academy of Science were present, including Jupiter Roget. Marquis de Blois strode to the chair opposite Roget’s and settled into it with measured calm. No one said a word.

After a time, the door creaked open, and King Rupert de Gilet entered, clad in formal attire of red, white, and gold.

All stood at attention. After the king took his seat, the officials did the same.

“Now, then.” King Rupert’s voice resounded gravely. “I believe you’ve all heard the news. Rumors circulating at the end of last year had come true.”

Silence stretched on as they waited for the king’s next words.

“This morning, Germany finally invaded Poland. The coals of war have been stoked!”

Someone shuddered, letting out an odd-sounding breath.

Amidst the silence, shoulders quivered and gazes narrowed. Marquis de Blois alone remained still, his gaze fixed upon an elusive vision above His Majesty’s figure.

“Will it end in an isolated conflict, or will it ripple across the globe as it did eleven years ago, back in the spring of 1914? The answer eludes us for now… Gentlemen!” King Rupert’s voice was shaky. “War is upon us once more!”

---

Meanwhile…

In the innermost chamber of the colossal prison known as the Soleil Noir, a small girl with a delicate frame was seated on a crude chair, her emerald eyes, clear as gemstones, staring vacantly ahead, slowly following some kind of vision.

Her golden hair, an unfurled silk turban, tumbled toward the frigid gray floor, shimmering like distant stars. The lamp at the corner flickered.

“1917… Germany… May 1918… Switzerland… And in 1921…”

A deep voice reverberated.

The girl was unresponsive, her eyes open. It was unsure whether she was listening or not.

On closer look, a shadow loomed beside her chair, seated on the floor with one knee lowered. The silhouette suggested an adult man. Atop his head, an odd pointed shape swayed faintly up and down.

“In the same month, across the New World… Towards the East…”

It seemed they were reading in the dark, sifting through documents detailing recent international events.

The lamp’s flame danced. The girl remained unaffected.

“And in the year 1922…”

The man’s voice persisted endlessly.

Even the light of the eerie, unusually dim sun could not reach this chamber.

Golden hair gleamed, briefly rippling like a flowing river.

---

Within the palace’s conference chamber, wrapped in silence, Marquis de Blois slowly rose.

Officers from the Academy of Science eyed him suspiciously. Marquis de Blois regarded King Rupert with a twisted smile.

“Please rest assured, Your Majesty.” In the stillness, his voice rang resonant and somewhat muddled. “I have with me a formidable weapon.”

“A weapon?”

“Yes.” Marquis de Blois nodded.

King Rupert seemed to morph within his vision. Much like the ancient monarchs and warriors depicted throughout the palace, grand wings sprouted from his back, his body half-naked, his sculpted physique in full display. Armed with a bow and arrow, he soared fiercely above the clouds. Young Albert, a hybrid creature of human and beast, his lower half transformed into a resplendent white stallion, rode alongside him.

Please help us, Albert.

Albert…

Albert…!

The king’s voice joined the cacophony of cries.

Albert!

Albert!

Even as the voices hounded him, Marquis de Blois squared his shoulders, his murky green eyes glinting with an eerie light.

“The time is nigh, Your Majesty,” he proclaimed. “The moment has come to unleash the might of the Ministry of the Occult and save Sauville from its blood-stained future!”