72. Interlude: Resurrection (II)

"I'm choosing my words," Konrad Curze said.

The lights flickered. The hard metal that formed the deck creaked as it slowly warped in an unnatural cold. Whoever had invented this alloy could never have imagined that their creation would one day be subjected to such a trial.

But fate was ever fickle.

"I must think it through before voicing an opinion," the Night Haunter said with a frown.

He was walking, pacing back and forth. Darkness and mist constantly spilled from beneath his feet, making him look like a tall, gaunt ghost whose head nearly brushed the ceiling. Even so, not a single footstep sounded in the cramped room.

The cold continued to spread.

Before long, the lights stopped flickering, and the last traces of illumination began to dim further. This pitiful piece of technology stood on the verge of collapse. As though noticing this, Konrad Curze finally stopped.

A hint of irritation appeared on his pale face. He raised his head to look at the filament protected by its metal grille and glass cover, his lips trembling slightly.

The man sitting properly at the bedside, with a wide-brimmed hat resting on his knees, had thought Curze would spit out some crude curse. But he was wrong.

Konrad Curze merely said, "I've thought it through, Sigillites."

A gust of wind howled.

"Yes, I insist. It's his business if he wants to handle this problem himself, but we can't just do nothing, can we, Malcador? I have other matters to attend to."

The breeze died away. Konrad Curze closed his eyes, casually removed the crown from his head, and tossed it to the man.

The latter raised a hand and caught it, neither hurried nor slow, timing it perfectly. The movement of his arm and fingers displayed a mechanical precision and