Prologue
"The sages think themselves to be all-knowing. But we alone are wise to the virtue in those acts of folly. In this war, not even a single pawn may be spared... Because on this chessboard, "checkmate" is not where the game ends." A deep voice with a slight rasp spoke.
The white colored knight moved in its 'L' shape, knocking down the pawn. A bright, fire colored moth gently landed upon the fallen pawn, it's dark charred color being illuminated from the glowing insect.
"Rosalyne..." A much younger, and higher voice spoke softly, only a small, tanned hand visible from a fluffy, white hooded cloak. The small hand rested on a white queen– The piece placed on a dark square. "I'm leaving. I can hear them starting the ceremony, anyway." They sighed, their short cloak dwarfing their figure and hiding them.
"We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade," An old voice spoke. "In honor of her sacrifice, all work should halt for half a day, as the nation mourns her passing." An old man steps forward to the casket, as a small girl with some sort of eye cover vocalizes angelically.
The child barely made it in time, their small, black boots clicking against the polished floor. Panting, they leaned against a shining, blue pillar, looking as if it was ice. "Heheh, merely half a day..? People say the northland bank's true currencies are blood and tears.." A smooth voice echoed out through the large mausoleum, ringing ever so softly.
"But, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable." The voice belonged to a man with glasses, slim eyes, and a dark, fluffy collared cloak.
"Rosalyne died in a foreign land.. But you heartless businessmen and dignitaries.. Always with a convenient excuse to remain in the comforts of your own homeland.. You couldn't hope to understand. So why don't you keep your mouth shut? You wouldn't want to make the children cry." A cyan haired woman sneered, glaring her dark eyes at the regrator.
“Hey, come on now. Even I don’t think that this is the time and place for a fight.” A ginger scoffed, arms crossed. “Shut it, ginger. I wanna see if they fight.” The child snickered, holding a gloved hand to their hair. Two small finches came out of the warm hiding spot, beeping softly. “Risible. Utterly risible.” A sand haired girl giggled, sitting upon a giant machine.
“Though her methods tarnished her honor.. Lohefalter’s sacrifice is a great pity. Her loss shall not hinder our progress. However, Dottore. What of Scaramouche and the gnosis from Inazuma?” A masked man rumbled, his deep voice vibrating the ground softly. “Conventional wisdom holds that Divine Knowledge cannot be rationally comprehended. After conquering the Divine Gaze, he will make his next move.”
A bearded man with snow-white hair walks into the room, the group immediately silencing and standing around the casket. “It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics. Right now, you have no captive audience.” He continued to walk through the room, taking his place at the end of the coffin.
“Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and with this nation endure for all time. In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, we will seize authority from the gods..” His hands folded behind his back as he spoke.
The mausoleum was soon encased in ice, a cold, bitter, yet captivating ice.
“Absolute peace.
Such is a gift from the Tsaritsa, such is her majesty's benevolence.”
The casket encases in sharp ice, unpleasant cracking coming from its forming. The crimson moth appears once more, landing on the ice, before disappearing, fading into nothing but ash. “Now you rest in this coffin, encased in layer upon layer of ice. But Rosalyne, I promise you.. Your final resting place will be the entirety of the old world.”
“I must say, you’re looking very young today, doctor.” A black haired woman smiled sinisterly, her porcelain skin being framed by her dark hair.
“You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment.” The masked, blue haired man spat, hostility and venom lacing his voice. “Don’t speak to Damselette like that, doctor.” The -new- youngest harbinger snorted, crossing their arms.
“Shut your mouth, child.” The man glared at them, a tint of red showing from his irises. “Well then, doctor. Where’s the clone in the prime of his life?”
“Heh.. He's busy with a little experiment in blasphemy.. In Sumeru.”