>>5472654Bennett slams a fist on the table. “Do you take me for a fool? We cannot afford to throw away experienced soldiers on a whim! The Sword of the Creator has reappeared in Garreg Mach! Even now, she rallies the Knights of Seiros to her. The grip that we hold over the faith in Fodlan is tenuous, and this woman, whom you assured me was dead, now threatens us all! I don’t need you running off with our soldiers and leaving them to be slaughtered by that accursed Witch and her-“
“My lord.” Montgomery interrupts. His tone is as non-urgent as ever, a trait that infuriates Bennett. “I believe you may be overworked. Rest assured; my people are taking these matters seriously. The Sword of the Creator will be ours. We’ve suffered a minor setback, but you know better than anyone what we are capable of. After all, do you not owe your current position to our aid?”
Bennett sat back into his chair, examining Montgomery, no, Odesse, as though looking at him for the first time. Though he knew it was a necessary step, he loathed having asked these Agarthans for their help with each passing day. Odesse might have been playing the part of doting servant, but Bennett knew when he was being looked down on. And he knew the man in front of him well enough to understand the underlying threat within his speech. If only he still had reliable servants like Fritz and Ivan at his side. But Ivan was now dead, likely a calculated move by this monster. And as for Fritz, he’d been missing ever since Garreg Mach fell. He was nowhere to be found within the monastery’s dungeon, likely having either escaped or been killed.
“My lord, please leave everything to me.” Montgomery bows once more. “My associates are already making their move, and I assure you in just a short time, these problems will disappear overnight.”
“Very well.” Bennet says. “Handle it.”
“Then by your leave.” Montgomery exits the study, leaving Bennett alone to his thoughts.
“Agarthans…” Bennett muttered alone. It wasn’t just him that Odesse was looking down on. It was all of humanity. That they viewed themselves as superiors was a notion that caused the Patriarch no shortage of amusement. Would a superior people have been nearly wiped out by the Goddess? Would they spend their lives cowering underground, as far away from her light as possible? Would they carry out elaborate schemes and plots, unable to act out in the open, lest humanity rise up and destroy whatever remnants of their tattered empire remained? Would they be blind to their own machinations, unable to see when even one of their own was plotting to betray them?
The Patriarch exited his chair to look out his window, and gaze upon all that his “partnership” had earned him. He looked forward to the day he crushed the Agarthans under his heel. Until then, he’d play his part dutifully. It would only make their inevitable destruction all the sweeter.
