Gril’Die Khuda’Mundi sat in awe at the article that had just appeared on the newswave. Reading, his hand never left his lips as it attempted to shut away some of the horror. After finishing the article, he quickly picked up his personal wireless and entered the parameters to reach his contact outside Skogr, who then patched him through to Feriadd Khuda’Salongriell on a secure connection.

“This is the High Councilor speaking,” Feriadd said over the wireless. Gril’Die would never get used to the way voices sounded over a hypenet connection. It was like listening to someone inside a metal canister with water up to their knees.

“It’s me,” Gril’Die said, keeping his voice slightly hushed out of sheer paranoia, though no one was watching him. He was, after all, the one who made sure everyone was being watched properly. The person who was supposed to watch him very conveniently no longer existed. Nonetheless, the paranoia remained.

“Mi’Olnr!” Feriadd exclaimed, and Gril’Die imagined his hands being flung up into the air in welcome despite the form of communication. Quickly, however, he was back to business. “What is it? Why are you contacting me over the wireless? That’s not like you.” The suspicion in Feriadd’s voice was evident. Still, Gril’Die had very much contacted him for a reason.

“Have you read the latest newswave?” Gril’Die’s hushed voice met itself with a slightly morbid tone, and Feriadd grunted slightly as he made note of the tone.

“No, I haven’t,” he admitted. “I’ve been swamped with paperwork for days. Is there something I need to see?” A note of concern arose in his voice.

Gril’Die nodded somberly before remembering that he hadn’t opened a visual channel. “Yes,” he said. “If you can, open up today’s article 2389.” He waited a few moments for Feriadd to push aside some of his papers to find his newsfeed viewer.

“Alright, I’ve got it,” Feriadd said over the wireless. About a milliday later, he said, “Great One help them.”

Gril’Die took this as his cue to go on to explain further why he had called. “Councilor, if this had anything to do with the Ginnung, I need to know now.”

“Of course it didn’t, Mi’Olnr,” Feriadd went on. “If it had anything to do with us, we’d definitely have kept you in the loop about it when it was still being planned. I don’t think anyone in the Ginnung had anything to do with it. We’re much more precise than that.”

Despite the assurance, Gril’Die didn’t feel too much better about the whole thing. Even without the Ginnung being involved, they’d likely be blamed for it. Furious at that thought, Gril’Die slammed his fist into his desk. How was he supposed to keep this situation clean?

“Mi’Olnr, you don’t have to do anything for us over this,” Feriadd said in appreciation, but Gril’Die couldn’t believe that. He’d been on the other side of the news for altogether too long. He’d stood idly by for too long, working his way to the position he held now.

Still, he had never seen anything quite like this. This went to a whole new level of horrible that he had never witnessed before. “I want to, though, Councilor,” he said, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. “The Monarch has caused me to do so many terrible things over all these cycles that I’ve been in the Armada. You know, I was an avid patriot before I went to the Academy.”

“Really?” Feriadd asked, quite intrigued. “And how, my friend, did you wind up on the other side of that coin? This is pretty far from patriotism for the Monarchy, all things considered, Mi’Olnr. You don’t exactly fit in entirely here, either, though, do you?” The question was innocent enough and not at all meant for harm. Still, it was true.

“No, I suppose I really don’t,” Gril’Die replied. “But I can at least speak my mind on the affairs of the Monarch when I go around town in Skogr,” He said, thinking back to a particularly nice evening in that city, though he still had trouble remembering all the different boroughs, so he couldn’t have told anyone where in town he had been.

“Very true,” the High Councilor agreed. “That’s not really something everyone can do around the system, is it? I remember getting into all sorts of trouble for speaking poorly of the Monarch when I was a child. I can almost recognize why someone might do this for that exact reason, too.” Gril’Die heard Feriadd’s chair lean back as he adjusted his seat.

“I can’t say I feel the same, Councilor.” Again, Gril’Die was offering a
voice of reason into the argument, but it wasn’t really a valid comment. His feelings about the subject were clearer than the glass panes that were missing outside so many of the stores in Skogr City. He had no way of reconciling what was being reported with anything that could be remotely good in any way, shape, or form. He couldn’t support what had been done, and the fact that it had been done so poorly just made it worse.

“I know, Gril’Die,” Feriadd said over the wireless, using his actual name instead of his title for the first time in the conversation. It was a mark of respect toward his attitude as a man that he didn’t call him by his job title during a time like this. Beside him, the newsfeed lay open to the article Gril’Die had brought up. It was only half-finished, still, but Feriadd didn’t need to continue reading to know what else was written. The story was pretty much told in the headline for the article.

“Well, I think it’s about time for me to go,” Gril Die said, setting down his own newsfeed. “I’ll call in again if there are any developments, but I doubt it.” Before finishing the conversation and putting away the wireless, Gril’Die took one last look at the headline across the top of the article.

Terrorists’ Attempt to Assassinate Monarch Is Met With Failure.