The sliding door closed behind Nadrien with a decisive click, obstructing Fealtanis and Mirathiel from her view. She pursed her lips slightly, evidently distasteful of the abrupt way that their leader had dismissed them. True, she might have committed herself to silence earlier, but that didn't mean she had run out of things to say. On the contrary, she'd been mulling over them in silent contemplation, trying to think of the best way to phrase her words.

Not that it mattered now that the meeting had been cut short.

"Now, we could only hope that the hybrid girl doesn't dissuade the master even further from accepting Princess Adaria's offer," Boris whispered in a hushed tone, drawing the yildean's attention to him.

Nadrien's face scrunched up on Boris's poor choice of words. The moment she'd left Mira's presence, her demeanor had considerably subdued. There were only a select few that the woman was comfortable showing her exuberance to; for the rest, she had built an impenetrable wall to bar them from further entry into her thought processes- the way the sliding door they were gradually leaving behind had barred her view to the two occupants of the highest positions on the Scarlet Masks' hierarchy.

Needless to say, Boris of Blacktower was not one of the people she had allowed past the thick metaphorical barrier she had constructed for herself. If anything, he fell into the... least favorable side of the spectrum. The stout, scarred yildean had rubbed Nadrien off the wrong way, and the way he'd called her best friend a "hybrid" in a somewhat conceited manner certainly only served to solidify her dislike of him.

"You better not let Mira catch you calling her that," Nadrien warned, somewhat coldly. She let out a small sigh that was laden with disdain.

"And anyways, he would've been less susceptible to refusing this offer if you didn't tell him who the candidate to replace the king is. I thought that you'd know better, considering that you've been serving him for twenty four years."

"Even if I didn't tell him, he's bound to find out one way or another and that would've been worse for us," Boris tried to argue through his raspy breath. "Better tell him now rather than later. Besides, didn't you say that you wanted to see the old king die?"

His tone suggested that he'd picked up on Nadrien's shift of conduct, though she could care less about what he thought of her. A small scoff escaped her lips. "I meant it as a joke, Boris. Not everything has to be taken literally. On that note, why did they even pick his brother as a candidate? Every single great house is aware of his... plebeian habits."

And the fact that he was bastardized by his father, Nadrien continued in her mind. She had her fair share of scorn towards Fealtanis's brother, Avrenis... perhaps even more so than Feal himself. If anything, she was possibly the one who knew him best. The thought that some decades ago she had developed some sort of affection for him still made her cringe.

"For now, he's the only candidate available," Boris replied.

"Why not pick Fealtanis as a candidate?" Nadrien suggested as she continued to stomp her way through the car. "He was legitimized by his father. Surely he's-"

"He still hasn't completed his exile. For that to happen, we need his brother to remove his charges."

"You could've threatened him. I'm pretty sure that he would revoke his charges the moment someone threatened him," Nadrien scoffed, her voice heavy with contempt that was mostly directed towards their subject of discussion. She knew better than anyone that Feal's older brother had little to no backbone.

"You didn't take his mother into account," Boris pointed out, his hand motioning towards Nadrien to continue walking. "That witch has her talons wrapped right around him; don't forget that."

"Ah, right," the woman murmured. "I'm surprised that she hasn't died yet, considering that no lesser houses in the province likes her. I thought somebody would have offed her by now."

Boris grunted as he attempted to keep his body straight against the wavering movements of the car. "I'm guessing that no one wants to see the hornless stag turn his province into one giant brothel or bar."

"Better that than to see him turn the entire kingdom into a brothel or a bar," Nadrien commented, her voice riddled with annoyance. "We need a true member of the Eight House as a candidate for this plan to work, and that man is still in exile."

Nadrien hated the Old King as much as the lowliest of peasants, but she didn't particularly fancy seeing the provinces get launched into a state of anarchy. "We could just wait for a few more years for the old king to kick the bucket."

"That man has been sitting on the throne for two centuries, Nadrien. How much longer do you want to wait? The Seventh House was never meant for the throne, Illumaver's reign shows that. There must always be an eight-horned stag to sit on the throne."

Nadrien sighed as she dragged a sliding door open to the other car. "Sometimes, it's better to just wait for a while, Boris. Trust me, Avrenis isn't the best candidate as king. It's better to wait for Feal's exile terms to be over. For now, I share Mira's opinion on this matter. History has shown us that attempting to place a bastard on the throne is disastrous, let us not repeat the same mistake again."

With that being said, Nadrien dipped her head to show the end of her say in the matter, before promptly leaving the retainer behind. She sped through the train, keen to avoid any further conversations concerning the current state of the yildean court. How can these people be so impatient and blind? she pondered. The thoughts on Adaria's solution on the matter only served to frustrate her even more.

She sighed as she seated herself on a chair right next to a sleeping Magni, hoping to find another talking companion who didn't care about the current matter. Much to her dismay, the hyrrean was still snoring loudly, resting contently despite the inhospitable conditions of the vehicle (or, at least, inhospitable according to a certain half-aerhyan woman). She contemplated on waking him up, though she eventually decided against it as she recalled that the poor man was still recovering from the severe injuries that he'd sustained in Blacksalt and she didn't want to deprive him from a rather comfortable sleep.

Her mind drifted away to the severity of the situation, the problems of her homeland being a constant blight in the depths of her mind. Why the hell is the yildean court filled with such impatient idiots? she cursed silently in her head, as the persistent snowstorm that had been bugging the train lifted.

Thinking about the subject made her want to throw everyone involved off the edge of a cliff and be done with it. Only a fool would place a bastard on a throne. The Black Raven Rebellions, the Great Winter Riots, the Grusverth Massacre... History had clearly shown them that even if the nobles didn't mind a bastard on the throne, the commonfolk certainly did.

She tried to sleep to silence her thoughts. While it worked for a few minutes, her attempt failed with every snore the hyrrean next to her took. At this point, Nadrien wondered how his snores hadn't managed to wake the entire car up. The volume of his snores were practically the equivalent of thunder in a bad summer storm.

A glimmer of moonlight filtered its way through the windows, illuminating the room. Nadrien could see that the train finally passed through the mountain range, which somewhat relieved the train from the cold weather.

"Maybe now Mira could sleep easy," she softly chuckled to herself. "If only Feal didn't suddenly call for her, that is."

Everyone in the Scarlet Masks had often emphasized on the heavy weight of the responsibilities Fealtanis had to shoulder ever since the untimely demise of his father, but nobody had batted an eye towards his deputy's own workload apart from herself and Magni. So many times had Nadrien witnessed her poor friend staying up all night to accompany Feal with his paperwork, missions, and meetings. She barely got any rest due to her duties, and due to the sudden influx of daytime missions, the poor half-aerhyan got her resting time cut off even more.

Perhaps she might do her a favor and free her from her duties for the night.

She stood up and began to trace her way back to the dining car. She could see Boris on the front-most seat. The moment he noticed where Nadrien was headed, the stout retainer dropped his mouth a little.

"I thought that you've heard what Feal told you, Nadrien."

"I've just left something of importance back there," she replied, with a dismissive wave of her hand. It was half a truth- after all, Mira was quite important to her.

With that, Nadrien began to make her way back to the car where they had held their conference. Her fingers toyed with the pistol hanging from her belt. She decided that having someone who shared the same opinion as her was better than just dwelling on her relatively unpleasant thoughts all by herself.

She silently made her way towards the dining car, passing through the car which was blanketed by the glimmering moonlight. She found the presence of the moonlight to be slightly comforting. Unlike most yildeans, she was indifferent towards the presence of moonlight. Although she still avoided direct sunlight like a plague, she found the light reflected by the gray spherical celestial object to be gentle enough, even quite mesmerizing at times.

A virtual banter was being simulated in her mind as she walked, her head teeming with all sorts of conversational ideas which she could use to bail Mira out from her work. Before she realized it, the sliding door that led to the dining cabin stood rigidly in front of her. Taking a deep breath, the yildean extended her hand, her talons wrapping around the freezing metal handle of the door.

However, before she could open the door, she heard some words which gave her a pause.

"I want to make it stop. I have to make it stop. I have to find a way. This is draining me, Mira, I can't keep up with this forever. If this continues, I might end up with a blade through my heart."

Nadrien decided against bursting in and dragging Mirathiel out, instead eavesdropping without regard to proper etiquette. Hearing Feal breaking down and losing his usual controlled composure was quite the strange occurrence. She had known the man to seldom fall prey to emotional outbursts, never letting his feelings run amok for everyone to see. This begged the question: what could've caused him, a man who was cold and rational in all respects especially his mind, to break down? What could be so distressing that it caused him to contemplate suicide?

Curiosity got the better of her decency, and she slid the door ever so slightly to allow herself a view of the scene.

"Feal, look at me. Don't pay attention to them. Look into my eyes."

To them? Letting her viridian eyes sweep across what little of the interior she could see from the small gap in the door, she could effectively surmise that the room was empty save for the both of them. Was Mira, perhaps, alluding to her and Boris?

She could see that Mira had her hands on Feal's face, in a gesture that suggested an attempt to grant relief. Perhaps Fealtanis did have a certain fondness to his second-in-command, after all.

Nadrien decided to turn away, closing the door as silently as she could. What she had seen and heard still piqued her interest, but she did not want to disturb her friend's intimate moment.

As she walked back towards her car, her mind wandered forth to new territories again, this time regarding the curious sight she had witnessed.

To her, Mira was never the type of individual who would bother wasting her time to comfort another. Even in the occasion that she tried to help someone (like Nadrien herself), her words were always laced with sardonic humor.

Seeing her genuinely comforting Fealtanis without a hint of irony felt so surreal. Perhaps Mirathiel was much softer than she let on...

A part of her was happy that her friend finally got the chance to show her true nature to someone she truly cared about. She knew firsthand how tiring it was to keep always keep a mask on. Still, a certain uneasiness gnawed at her chest about the person she was showing it to.

Fealtanis was a strange man: a bastard son of the Eight House's previous lord, yet he was legitimized. Despite being a supposed bastard son, the man was more of a lord than his half-brother. Even though Nadrien openly supported his claims as a king of the provinces, she did not trust him.

He had the same cunning as his ancestors, and he wouldn't think twice before setting aside any sort of feelings if the situation demanded it. Even after knowing him for so long, the man always unnerved her. Of course, Nadrien had crafted the perfect identity for herself within their ranks, effectively hiding all her suspicions and her true motivations for years. Still, for all her lies, she harbored some true concern towards Mira.

What if whatever vulnerability Feal showed was just a ploy to manipulate her friend?

Or at least, that was what Nadrien might have wanted to think. She knew Mira was smart enough not to fall for such emotional deception. Perhaps, just perhaps... envy was putting a bias on her views.

Still, even if his vulnerability was true, then what was it? What could be so horrifying that it got Mira to sympathize with him? Mira never bothered to sympathize with anyone up to this point, no matter how horrifying their stories were, so what could be her reasons?

So many different possibilities echoed through her mind as she made her way through the moonlit car. She sighed as she sat down by the window. In her attempt to soothe her mind, she ended up being burdened with even more curiosities.

She looked out to the window, in hopes that the sights would be enough to distract her from her thoughts. What she saw was just a field of snow with the stars and moon dotting the sky.

The Radiant Lady was still there, watching over her kind, but she spotted a second bright object, moving across the dark night sky.

A shooting star.

Perhaps I should make a wish, she mused, almost laughing at the childish notion. She opted against it, continuing to watch the sky as the shooting star made its way to the eastern skies.

--------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Writer: Fiona_jessie

AN: Oh gosh, this chapter took me forever to finish, yet it still came out horrible. With some editing and help from VeryBigMess, I do believe we managed to salvage it, though... somewhat. Please leave your thoughts, and if you somehow like this train-wreck (huehue sorry not sorry for the pun) of a chapter, do give some life into that little gray star!