Rwindell Castle
Catherine Dalores hummed a soft, tuneless melody as she gently combed the prince's hair. She carefully dressed the prince. Two months had softened the initial novelty of being His Highness's private maid, replacing it with a comfortable routine. Today, she was tasked to keep an eye on the prince while the emperor and the empress were having a conference with the monarchs of the coalition kingdoms. I wonder what they are going to discuss. The last time the coalition had been summoned was during the aftermath of the Great War twelve years ago, she thought, embracing the prince, ready to carry him outside of his chamber.
Catherine said today I would meet a new friend... a child of one of the monarchs. How did I know?
"Quick! We must ready His Highness at once! I refuse to let him be overshadowed by other children!" Catherine Dalores said, burning with passion.
And that, Eckhard recalled, was precisely how he knew. When his personal maid spoke of "new friends" with such a fiercely competitive glint in her eyes, it could only mean a rival infant. He allowed himself a small, internal sigh as Catherine began to hum again, her arms tightening around him in an almost martial embrace.
Thus, with Eckhard in her arms, Catherine walked to the playroom the maid had prepared for the prince and his soon-to-be friend. It was a fairly large room, but instead of the hard flooring like in the rest of the castle, the floor was soft, yet even with that softness, it looked no different from the regular floor.
Huh... this one's quite interesting, Eckhard thought.
"This room is prepared specially for you, Your Highness. The Emperor paid for the entire floor to be cast with special magic by the mages of the Mage Tower," Catherine said while smiling.
So it was magic... hmm, magic of this caliber isn't it a bit wasteful for a children's playroom? he thought as the creaking of the door refocused his attention.
At the door was another maid Eckhard had not recognized. In her hand was yet another infant. Her attire was not the same as Eckhard had seen before; the design and the crest were also unrecognizable.
"Oh, they have arrived," Catherine said before the unknown maid entered the room.
I see, this must be my "Friend," and in her hand, an infant! Just like me! Except for the fact that it was a human girl instead, he mused, watching the scene unfold.
"I, Roselle Hillard, greet the little Sun of Rwindell, Prince Eckhard Rwindell," she greeted.
"I, Catherine Dalores, greet the little Princess of Yuzaria, Eliora Yuzaria," Catherine returned the greeting.
"Catherine... it's good to see you," she then greeted Catherine.
Meanwhile, in the Conference Room
Emperor Cedric glanced around the room. Inside the room with him and the Empress were four other monarchs representing their countries. There were the Yuzaria King and Empress, Mathias Yuzaria and Queen Myisha Eldran, both of whom were elves. To their left was the Emperor of Ignia, Trevor von Ignia, a beastman, and to their right was Athia's Empress, Hestia Polmenera, one of the faeries.
"How long has it been since we were summoned like this?" Emperor Trevor said, breaking the silence.
"Thirteen years since the 'Cleaning,' I suppose," Emperor Mathias answered before being interrupted by Empress Hestia.
"I suppose you didn't call for this meeting just to greet an old friend, did you, Cedric?" she said, pulling the atmosphere into seriousness.
Thus, without even answering the question, Emperor Cedric pulled out something from his pocket—a substance that looked no different from a dull rock. Yet, the expressions around the room turned awry, some showing shock while others remained composed.
"I believe you know what I'm holding," Emperor Cedric said.
"A Chaos Shard?! Where did you find that?" asked Queen Myisha.
"It was recovered from the ruins of Umbric village near our kingdom's border. There are no survivors," answered King Cedric while gazing into the shard with a sharp gaze.
"So they have survived…" Emperor Trevor said, his aura spilling out—an aura akin to a lion that had been interrupted from its slumber.
"We did not know for sure. We had sent five groups of Red Hunters; none of them found traces from the village," said Empress Ravenna.
"Nothing good came out of their re-hiding. Their forces are shattered; it could take years to even attempt something. Perhaps it's just a hiding place," Emperor Mathias concluded.
"So, what do you propose, Cedric?" Empress Hestia asked while crossing her hands.
"We ought to raise a new generation of hunters. The ones that participated in the last war are now old; our forces have lost their major power," King Cedric proposed.
"We had lost sixty percent of hunters in the last Great War. Their number isn't that easy to replenish."
True, the past generation of hunters; a lot of them had died during the Great War, only leaving forty percent of their original number, not accounting for the one hundred hunters who were on the Crowned level. To combat the Chromas and the demons after the six cataclysms, the Writer's creation had established the role of hunters for those who received the Writer's blessing. They were all separated into seven categories:
0.Crowned
1.King
2.Queen
3.Bishop
4.Knight
5.The Rook
6.Pawn
While a maximum of ten Crowned-level hunters typically emerged per nation each year, that rate had significantly decreased since the last war. Yet, the appearance rate of Chromas had grown even more rapidly than that of the hunters. Moreover, the last war was the first time in a while that the world had witnessed the Chromas' ability to consume a living being—a disturbing evolution for a seemingly mindless creature.
"Then what do you propose we do?" asked Emperor Mathias.
"I propose that we reopen that program," King Cedric said calmly.
"And the person in charge of that?" Queen Myisha asked.
"Him," King Cedric answered, his hand covering his face as if the words caused him pain.
"Sigh, this will be terrible," Emperor Trevor sighed.
"It is decided then; we will proceed with it," Emperor Cedric announced.
Meanwhile in a forest somewhere..
In a forest somewhere, a man in an almost wine-colored robe lay sleeping on a conjured bed woven from countless threads of magic.
"Hachu! Bloody hell, who's talking trash about me now?"