Organizing the Pieces
Sigurd has always been a weird one; he contacted Serenus and gave his movement a breath of fresh air it so desperately needed, the Colonel introduced him to a sympathetic upper class, something Serenus would have never been able to accomplish by himself, and he knew that.
But a question always remained on the back of the old Reformer's head, something he constantly evaded to ponder about: Why was he doing this? Why would this demon Sigurd, introduce him to a world of infinite possibilities and ask for nothing in return? Was he sympathetic to his movement? Had he gained a true adept to Reformism? Does he have some higher ideal in mind? Would he ever reveal his hand?
This devil! This manipulative Colonel! It was obvious! He wanted to take the whole movement for himself! Yes! That's absolutely it! Serenus would do all of the heavy lifting for him! Just like how everyone treated him, his life's work would be undone, with a snap of his cursed fingers!
15:35
Footsteps. A rhythmic march. A noble's manners. Laughing, crying and convincing. He wasn't a dirty man, far from it! But this case is special; he finally would have a shot at beheading that cursed king and his damned yes-men. The root of all evil! The cause for disparity between the common man; the worker and the aristocrat wearing silk gloves!
Indeed, that man Serenus shares his pain! His grief! But he does not see the full picture; the cause of it all!
17:02
The Colonel's age did not allow him to be as active as he used to. He was still fairly psychically capable, mind you, but he certainly did not have his youthful energy.
He quickly learned throughout the years that tea-drinking diplomacy played a much bigger role than marching with his comrades.
And that was fine with him. Not that it mattered anyway, he had always been one with a keen eye for politics. Now, he had a chance to demonstrate that: his confidant relayed to him that a certain general wanted to meet him today at East Side Kalmar.
The busy streets being swarmed with poor peasants in pitiable clothing, all kinds of junk on the side of the road, cold-colored houses that had a threatening aura towards on-lookers, and that oppressive, freezing cold.
No matter. The general would be meeting him in Heden Square, sitting on a bench facing a bakery manned by that immigrant Earl.
A few minutes after resting on the bench, a small figure sat next to him: A man of age, with black, droopy eyes wearing a flat cap and a thick scarf that covered his mouth and nose. Common clothing for a worker, his grey overcoat and pants, except for a well maintained pair of boots that was most obviously tailored for him.
Finally, the old man faced him:
"Mr. Sigurd?"
"That's me. And how do you know my name?"
The older one lowered the scarf. "Don't you know how to greet an old acquaintance?"
A curious pair of eyes analyzed the supposed general. Then, his eyebrows jumped: "Hah! This is definitely the end of the world! Right, General Otto? My own commander, meeting me!?" A lively laugh.
"Save the jokes for later. A little bird told me you're now with a new movement? You never were particularly skilled at being discrete, you know?"
"Hmpf! Beats being a pensioner! What did you want to talk about?" Sigurd regained his composure.
"This one seems promising. I was always wary of joining you with your shenanigans, but some people I know have been sweet talked by you; I just want to see what all the commotion is about."
"I found someone to unite our cause." Sigurd lowered his tone.
"Can you trust him?"
"Not quite. I'm sure he doesn't trust me much either. He has good intentions, but ultimately he does not fall entirely under our movement."
"Aye. You want to see that bloody king gone in any way possible, isn't that right?"
"Of course! A king's autocracy has led Selenium to a constant downfall!"
"Whatever you say. Do you want me in to join you? Even with such a setback like this uniter you speak of?"
"It would be great. We both know that the world doesn't give anything we can take by ourselves."
Sigurd now extended his hand, and the old General shaked it.
"See you soon."
After some difficulty, Otto got up and disappeared into the endless crowd.
Sigurd then closed his eyes, and rested; for he knew that the game now truly begun.