The God of Jesters
Chapter 581 - 9.07.3 I hate old priests.

Chapter 581: 9.07.3 I hate old priests.

"The ceasefire is just temporary it isn’t ending anytime soon." Spoke the commanding officer, who after a pause spoke with a sigh. "The reason is, well it’s not something told to someone in my position, but some of my colleagues did say that this is all related to the attack on Rudrain."

The attack on Rudrain was infamous among the commoners and for soldiers who fought to protect their country, it was the most shameful event in history.

What of their sacrifices if the terrorist still goes behind their patrols and harm the common civilians? Wouldn’t it mean all they were doing was completely pointless? Or it’s just that they were that incompetent?

Of course not, the issue was far different than one can ever hope to imagine. Including Rosso who knew that there was more to the event than a crazy bastard with a powerful virus. But for those on the battlefield, the majority of details were kept out to maintain the morale of the army, including the death toll and the rest.

’Tell me, General, was there a clown involved in that attack?" Farhad asked a question he had asked multiple times, but just like before, he still got no answer. "Even if it’s who you think it is, I am being kept in the dark... so don’t think too hard, rest for now. I can see that your mental state is not that good." The Officer said before leaving the room.

Every time he is in that room, it’s like walking on burning coals.

As for the one whose entire body was made out of fire, he remained quiet. "So not alive?" The earlier question was in hopes that any mention of his would-be proof enough that Jester was alive. But it would seem he would have to be disappointed today as well.

’They keep you in the dark... easier to manage. Is your family even alive? Are they even fine?’ Spoke the voice in his head again, the same familiar voice he had been listening to all this time. "They are not so foolish to harm the only thing that keeps me here. So stay silent, let me think." With those words, there were no voices anymore, Farhad was back to his usual self.

But then his vision changed for a bit and he noticed something odd in the place where his commanding officer just was. ’Odd.’ He spoke as a tentacle left his sleeves and slowly turned grew frog-like fingers at the end of it, making it far easier to take the small paper that had fallen and bring it to Farhad’s face.

"Sanskrit? That language again?" It was the language that Jester loved awfully a lot for some reason. A language not of this world, but a world from their past. But that didn’t matter. What did matter was what this signified. ’He is alive?’ Farhad wondered, before deciphering the text on the paper slip.

"Old friend, my end is nigh, I require your help just once. This is the least you could do for me." It was a shameful request for help from a man who had killed his father. But truth be told, after his experience, there was little to no hatred left in Farhad’s heart for Jester. No, from the carnage he imparted to the enemies, he can somewhat understand how hateful creatures like Jester can be born in this world.

It all just made sense to Farhad at this point. ’There will be entire families after my head.’ Just like how he saw Jester when his father had initially died, others might see him pretty much the same.

No, Farhad was far worse than his father. He was more brutal and monstrous. "Guess I can do at least this much," Farhad spoke before turning to look at the door and then the shining sun. ’Night, I will go out at night.’

It was a sudden decision made on a whim, Farhad can’t even ascertain whether this was a trap or not. But he still chose to make this choice because of what was at stake or its just as what Jester believed once.

An empty mind is home to the devil, and with how empty Farhad’s mind was, lacking any initiative of his own. He needed to do something, something other than killing and carnage.

This was his cry for help taking the form of a reckless action. And the ramifications of it can only be learned later.

******

"Still no traces?" Deimos asked a certain individual using a mana phone. His grandson had been missing for weeks at this point. And although he can ascertain his current situation, which was ’Alive.’ Deimos for some reason can’t do more besides that.

Which can mean only one thing. Amir was in the custody of people knowledgeable about anti-divination techniques. Truly an annoying bunch had taken him for themselves.

As for who, some names were already in his mind. There was only a single party present there besides the Army. Which were Jester’s men. ’That bastard finally took him.’ He had long known about Jester’s Interest in his Grandson.

Call Amir a fool or someone who follows filial piety, but Amir had long informed his grandfather of his odd meetings with that siren of a woman that had caused him some conflict of emotions.

Feelings are hard to forget and Deimos knows, considering he had been young once, though his youth can be considered anything but easy, considering it was the time when that Monster of a Duke was not bound by the old King Promises. Making him do whatever he wished and kill all of his step-siblings who dared to do any wrong.

Sadly, it was fear of that monster that made Deimos abandon his first love, who married someone else. And died of old age long before Deimos had his first son. ’That woman, hopefully it’s not an act, hopefully, she doesn’t harm him.’ Deimos hoped for this.

Deimos hoped that even if that woman saved his grandson, he wouldn’t fall for her as he had before. Though even if he does, Deimos understands his Grandson enough to know that the boy knows the differentiation between personal and professional matters. And it’s never right to sleep with the enemy, no matter how enticing it appears.

"Sir, the Emperor had called for the meeting." Said Deimos’s attendant, while bowing and handing Deimos a letter that came with the summons. A letter that only Deimos can open.

"Leave for now," Deimos spoke after looking at the seal, which was far different than the ones generally used by the King for normal Summons. But this one was far more details and something he knew about clearly. ’It’s serious this time.’

Although he had regretted sending his Grandson to his death after learning about the opponent he had to face. But since learning that this Dragon was no dragon, but something far worse, he had called back his Army and even sent messengers along the nations and islands in the Irban Fateh Alliance, letting them know of the danger of the frozen serpent instead of keeping them in the dark like most people would have generally done in this situation.

Though that was not all he did, Deimos along with some other Grand Generals in the army had long requested help from renowned Totems to hold this monster back as well as fools that dared to come to the monster in hopes of gaining certain riches.

They can’t allow fools to exploit this to their advantage. Many have tried so before, but this monster always ends up swallowing after the slightest mistake. This gets repeated each time, so this time, the Cynark Empire planned to ensure that no such foolish game is played at this time.

"Hmm?" As for the contents of the letter. It was a single line. ’The Grand Priest is awake.’ There were no details on which kind of priest the letter was mentioned, for Deimos already knew the answer.

’That old bastard.’ There was a hateful look in Deimos eyes before he turned calmed himself down. If not for the seal on the letter Deimos wouldn’t have chosen to go on the content of the letter alone. ’What have you done brother, that old man... why woke him up.’ A face appeared in Deimos’ mind and that ugly grin that had haunted him to this day.

Deimos fear of Duke can never compare to his hatred for this old priest. ’I could have handled that monster on my own brother... hah, you are losing your edge with time.’ There was some disappointment on Deimos face, followed by a hint of frustration. Well, what happened has happened.

******

While his Grandfather was throwing a childish tantrum due to an old priest, Amir alone in his room woke up from his deep slumber to a body that felt weak and painful. "Hemant." He shouted, unaware of where he was or how he got there.

Though it didn’t take long for him to know the answer to it. "This... I am not with..."

"You are correct, this is no princely quarters... it’s just a temporary home to us." Spoke a voice filled with playful sarcasm.

A voice that belonged to me.