"Lucius, what skill did you receive from the sage?" Bel-ibni asks, trying to change the conversation, his voice straining to mask his curiosity.

  "Oh, minor wind conjuration. Well, not exactly conjuration," Lucius replies slowly, as if choosing his words with deliberate caution.

  Bringing forth his hands, the air in the room seems to pause, momentarily held in anticipation. "I can only create a minor orb, though," Lucius continues.

  The air begins to draw toward his palm, swirling as if obeying an unseen command. Sid scoffs, unimpressed, while Bel-ibni leans in, visibly intrigued by the demonstration.

  "That's a well-rounded skill, it should work well with your attachment" Bel-ibni comments, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I suppose the sage's gift of skills really was helpful." He presses his hand to his face, feeling the icy pressure in the room diminish slightly.

  It's as if Lucius is struggling to control the energy coursing through him. The ice forming on Lucius's armor isn't from any immediate source but from some remnant of where he came from.

  "The air," Lucius mutters, his entire demeanor shifting. He raises his hand, and for a moment, his focus sharpens as he directs the energy toward Bel-ibni.

  "Oh?" Bel-ibni mutters, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

  "Eh, nothing really. Sin-iddin-apli just doesn't like you," Lucius says slowly, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he aims his hands in Bel-ibni's direction.

  "I am aware," Bel-ibni responds, his tone weary. "My constant comparisons to her mother aren't exactly endearing." He sighs, visibly tired.

  "I still hate you, Lucius," Sin-iddin-apli says from the corner, her voice sharp and cutting through the tension.

  "Alright!" Lucius replies cheerfully, unaffected by her disdain.

  "But back to the matter at hand—Kokoro died a few hours ago. His body is still there, untouched and ignored.

  No one cared enough to do anything for it. The only one with a heart big enough, though not really big, was Henri.

  But all he did was beat Kokoro's son; he did nothing for Kokoro's dead body." Bel-ibni says slowly

  "I really don't care," Lucius says dismissively. The orb of compressed air, now swirling at a frightening speed, grows as large as Lucius's palm. Without further hesitation, he propels it toward Bel-ibni with a flick of his wrist.

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  Bel-ibni waves his hand, effortlessly dispelling the orb. The air scatters, and a calm settles back into the room.

  "Well, that's that," Lucius says, shrugging both his hands as if the display was nothing more than a trivial exercise.

  "It wouldn't be right to die now," Bel-ibni continues, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "If one of us falls, it could become like a disease—spreading, unchecked.

  We wouldn't want all the heirs running around, killing their respective heads, would we?" He pauses, his hand still raised, and his eyes never leaving Lucius.

  "You can kill me after this quest ends, Sin-iddin-apli," Bel-ibni says, his voice firm yet carrying a note of resignation. "Not by anyone's skill. Not by your own skill. I would very much like it to be by your hands." A single drop of blood trickles from his finger, dark and telling.

  "Cut yours, and put it on the Erishkal's name," he mutters slightly, his words heavy with unspoken history and unbroken oaths.

  "It isn't on anything," Sin-iddin-apli replies, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond her father's, refusing to meet his eyes.

  "It is on my life. Isn't that a big enough 'thing'?" Bel-ibni responds almost instantly, his voice echoing with the finality of a closed door.

  Sin-iddin-apli scoffs, the sound low and derisive, tinged with the weight of past grievances and unresolved anger.

  "Want to use my sword?" Lucius interjects, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he holds out his blade, its edge gleaming faintly in the dim light.

  "No," she replies curtly, her expression unyielding.

  "Alright then," Lucius says with a casual shrug, turning his gaze back to Bel-ibni, who still has his hand extended, the blood now pooling at the tip of his finger.

  Sin-iddin-apli bites the tip of her own thumb, the same finger her father used. Blood trickles down, slow and deliberate.

  "On the Erishkal's name," she echoes, her voice steady despite the tension rippling through the room.

  Their blood drips, mingling in the air, a symbolic act as much as it is a binding one. The weight of their pact hangs heavy, a silent testament to promises made and yet to be fulfilled.

  Lucius watches, his expression inscrutable. "Well, that's quite the show of loyalty," he remarks, his tone light but edged with a trace of genuine admiration.

  "But it's not like I'm surprised. You two have always been dramatic."

  Bel-ibni lowers his hand, the blood still dripping slowly. "We're bound by more than just family, Lucius," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of solemnity. "This is about honor, and legacy, and all the things that people like you pretend not to care about."

  Lucius shrugs again, this time with a hint of mockery. "Honor's just a word, Bel-ibni. Legacy? That's just what people say when they want to be remembered. But in the end, we're all just fighting to survive."

  Sin-iddin-apli looks between them, her eyes narrowing. "Enough," she says sharply. "I'd like to go to my room now? a year is a really short time, and we're wasting time."

  Lucius raises his hands in a mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Back to business, then." He turns, but the tension remains, a lingering presence that refuses to be dispelled as easily as the air orb.

  "Lucius you are a person in this hall, you are a witness, a Notary Public." Bel-ibni says slowly, resting his hands in the arm rest,

  "Gotcha, i'm gonna leave now." he says, turning around in one swift motion, walking towards the large door,

  "see you later sweetheart," he says in a gesture of showing a kiss, it flying towards sid.

  "i also don't like that" she says towards her father before shoving her hand infront of the kiss,

  "That may be fixed." he muttered.