Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25389303-20191221164519/@comment-25389303-20200105212750

Retracing his steps through the Syndicate Headquarters, Diaboli felt himself falling into his usual scheming rhythm. His wouldn't lie - his conversation with Zanipher had not gone the way he had wanted. Yet, there was something fantastically liberating about the situation. For the first time in what felt like centuries, the mobster felt free to wage his eternal war once again. Unburdened with the shackles of guilt, his campaign for Remnant's soul could finally begin afresh - and Zanipher had delivered to him the casus belli he had so desperately craved.

His mind soon turned to the other implications of the meeting. He didn't doubt the Daybreak Syndicate would relay their findings to the Bluthardts the first chance they got. Well, if they did so through the channels he predicted they would, that wouldn't be a problem. There was also the concern that Zanipher and her allies would intervene directly in the anticipated conflict. After today, such a threat was entirely possible. But the chances were slim. Unless directly attacked themselves, he imagined it would be quite the undertaking to rouse those sleeping dragons for a war half a world away. No...he still had time.

Stepping back out onto the busy streets of Vale, Diaboli rejoined his quiet companion, and with a jerk of his head they set off again. They walked in silence for several city blocks, and it was only when Diaboli was certain they had not been followed that he spoke.

"She was more antagonistic than I expected," Diaboli thought aloud as he walked, the endless droning of passing cars muffling his words until they were almost inaudible. "An unfortunate turn of events, to be sure. But it changes nothing. Placated or not, the coming storm will engulf them all, sooner or later."

He turned his icy gaze to the bustling city around him. Now, more than ever, it reeked of inadequacy and self-indulgence. It clung to the buildings and the people and the very air itself, covering all in a green smog. How could nobody else see it? Were they all so blind?

No. There was still another person in this city whose vision and integrity he could rely upon - if only to a satisfactory degree. Plots and schemes were all well and good, but without a competent lieutenant at the helm, all his work would be for nought. What he needed now weren't diplomats, but soldiers. And above all else, a talented commander to lead them.

Luckily, Diaboli knew just the man for the task.