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The duchy of Gloria en Valle was exceptionally robust. There were several counties within the territory; one was the city of Gloria en Valle itself, which was a very large city with a multitude of millions of citizens. While not quite as built up as cities such as Kusana, Lumiria, so on, Gloria en Valle's population had begun to skyrocket in recent years. Looking at it now, Brydent was proud of how far it had come. It was always under construction; city blocks always being added, hundreds of thousands more finding new homes. While each citizen was not quite the caliber you would find in Lumiria, their numbers would swell over time. They were 'breeders' - some of them were even humans. Brydent's Neapolitan city did not discriminate.

"We stand at the heart of the new Nocturne. A country that shouldn't discriminate based on race or religion. All creatures - man to demon, Pagan to beast, are treated equally before the law in my city. While some races may be more prone to insubordination or civil disobedience, they will not be singled out as a result of such. This is the city that I envisioned when I left this place as a young boy, fleeing persecution as a result of my kinship. Back then it was only Valle . . . now it is far greater." Amias would see a visible smile as he spoke of his work; all the effort he'd put into this city, this utopia. It evaded Vaet Nocturnum, sitting outside of the shadow cast by Kala. It experienced mostly warm weather and the cool breeze of the sea. It was a prominent port for trade with Lumiria, Kusana, Los Anthos. It was everything it needed to be - and more.

"The duchy of Gloria en Valle has four counties: Gettera, Gloria en Valle, Mira Lima and Marja Hei. G.V. county is by far the largest and it extends through the strait from Yuran to Nocturne. Within the entirety of this duchy, I am host to nearly twenty-five million people. While Lumiria is the heart of military and religious matters in Nocturne, my domain is becoming the center of trade, art, philosophy, music and fashion. Many of the humans who escaped the genocide in Kenai hundreds of years ago take residence here, they and their ancestors - and the remnants of the currently obliterated Yuran did too flee here in droves. Victims of massacre and genocide are very artful people, you must know; it pleases me to speak to them. To see their work." He looked over to stare down at the people, seeing the lights in the streets, seeing the civilians dancing outside of bars and crowds gathering around painters. The city had come so far.

He wished to see it go even farther. Perhaps his partnership with Amias could bring it to the edge of another evolution.

Regardless, he led the man to his personal residence, Sevilla de Valois. A castle that stood alongside a cliff and presided over the duchy's affairs. One preceded by a neighborhood of some of Nocturne's most wealthy and famous - those who preferred the weather of a summer breeze to Lumiria's constant freezing cold.

When he and Amias arrived, he willed the gate open and brought him to the castle hall. His servants greeted him, as well as his sycophants and counselors. He nodded to each of them but raised his hand to signal that he did not wish to currently speak. He stepped towards his throne, where he would sit during the hours of court, declaring new policy and settling disputes. His hands jerked upward and he turned his wrist to signal that everyone in the hall needed to leave. Each of them returned to either their quarters or some other area of commerce within the castle.

He stared upon the throne, or thrones rather, two vacant seats before his eyes. A little table with an undying flower in-between. "You asked for a tour, but I do not wish to give one as of present, Lord Nicht, as I remain worn out from today's military excursions. I would settle instead for some conversation . . . and if you'd like, a fancy meal with my new co-ruler, and partner in crime." He smirked, turning back to stare at Amias. Such a strange accord had been struck between them, and surely against his more patient, practiced and better judgment; though at the moment, he believed this arrangement to be right and true. "I hope you understand after hearing some of my words, the idea I have for Axiom as a whole. Ironically, I am something of a humanist. I believe that the wars of mankind have lived on for far too long, and that we have created this situation ourselves, of angels and demons ruling over us. My desire . . . is to unify all intellectual societies into a Pan-Axiom Alliance and Trade Network, emulating one another; our ideas, our progress. As a result, life would be longer, and far more fruitful." Gloria en Valle was a city that had become the result of such ideals, taking anyone as long as they knew wisdom and kindness. While it had many issues, it had many successes, and Brydent had learned to foster them and let them grow.

He seated himself on the throne, and beckoned that the Pagan come forth, inviting him to take a seat on the identical model beside it. As if to say that Gloria en Valle could be partly his. If only he would remain true. "Val'Ghast could be the military force of such a union - the military network of you and I, to destroy facilities and organizations that bear malicious intent towards the building of our new world. An international police force comprised of tens of millions of monsters, ruled by the God of the Beasts and the World's Great Reformer. You and I could reach heights beyond anything ever imagined of our station." He looked to Amias with that ambitious hunger in his eyes, again, like usual; he called for the man to hunger in the same way, to let them come together in their dangerous intentions and rejoice in unity.

His vision blurred for a moment, then quickly did it find clarity. He could not remember what he was doing here, out in the balcony overlooking the city, but he knew he got lost in thought. He pondered upon the reforms necessary, upon the tasks he would need to designate, and importantly during this peak moment - the loyalty of his advisors. Just recently, there had been a coup attempt after Adriel declared his disregard for Vaet Nocturnum. Many in the city were Vangelist, Justoastrian, irreligious, otherwise, but the majority declared for the demons. His apathy and distaste for the chaotic religion had become a controversial topic in the city, and the calls for his abdication had begun to line the streets, just as fiercely as the arguments striking back at this mentality of religious singularity. What was the solution? He could not find it now, at this place, and this point in time. He knew that the answer would come at the right moment only, and not before.

"Lord Adriel, you have an appointment for twelve o'clock sharp following your seismologist meeting, and a visitor in the hall that wishes to see you," his secretary declared. A Mer, a fairly tall man with blond hair and green eyes. He raised his hand in accordance, and the man nodded and walked away. Adriel sighed. "Blimey ******** zealots," he whispered to himself. "They've tainted this country with their rhetoric of raping, raiding, torturing, maiming, for hundreds of years. That's not the world I want. That's not the world Valle deserves." He was talking to himself, though he could tell that there was a lady behind him. Mrs. Roksgard of Glastonbury, a small city to the south of here, within the metro area of Valle.

"Visitor in the hall?" He asked, refusing to turn around. The lady had been chosen by him to run one of the muncipalities, but it was a decision he had come to regret in time, considering she was so bloody ambitious. "Yes, that's me," she replied.

"I'm here to inform you of a promising discovery. You mentioned to the Diochetes of Valle that you were looking for a particular man you had lost contact with after being sent off to govern the war effort. We have found him, and he is within the city limits right now. I would be happy to give you his exact coordinates." Adriel turned around and looked at her. She had a smug look on her face. "A favor for a favor; I will gladly reveal this information if you vow to assist me with an important matter." There was something about this woman he couldn't stand. Maybe it was the fact that she was a sniveling cutthroat, or the fact that she had been agitating the religious riots in the city, or the fact that she had been fabricating claims on his title, or ... maybe the fact that she just had a frumpy, flat face. He wasn't sure which of the many disheartening characteristics she wielded he disliked the most, but they were all in a close competition.

"Fine, but tell me first." She nodded. "Okay, he's near the bar on the outside of Highveld District, to the northwest. Now-" The man gripped her neck in his hand. She had only been appointed as his vassal for three months, and she had already proven to be craven, disloyal, and depraved. With the raising of his palm, he ripped her neck from her torso, and tossed it off the balcony of the palace. Such actions were rare for him to commit, but in the apex of all this unrest and war, Adriel's usually patient attitude wrestled with his beastly nature. And if he had to listen to that morbid b***h go on one more time about children's entrails or some other macabre subject, he would have done a lot worse than spontaneous dismemberment.

He went away from this place, requesting that his assistants clean the mess as well as search for a new Mayor of Glastonbury. There were many who wanted the position, but this time he'd be sure to choose the correct heir. He hated disputes with vassals. The man appreciated trust, rather than tension, with his suboordinates. Anything less was intolerable in a world that had grown so exceptionally cold.

He continued down the city streets until he found the location. He began to search for energy signatures, but he recalled that this man he searched for - Ambrosius - was difficult to uncover. He could not find any leads in particular other than what the woman revealed to him, though the integrity of her information itself was questionable. He could only hope, perhaps dimly, that the man was here and that he would reveal himself to the man he once claimed to revere.

The demon continued to search northwestern Highveld, going between the many bars that lay on the strip. It was a populous area in an even more populous city district, and the nightlife in central Valle had always been wild and rambunctious to say the least. He began to realize the lack of worth in the information given him, but even so he looked for ideas as to how he might distinguish the other denizens from Ambrosius. There was looks. He remembered himt to have a fair and attractive face, with pitch black hair. He remembered him to wield a scythe. That would help him stand out, assuredly, although he wasn't quite positive if the man would be wielding a scythe going to a bar. That was a good way to not get any positive attention, unless you were aiming to make long scythe jokes or something like that.

Needless to say, even with these distinguishing features, bar after bar he could not find Ambrosius. He searched energy signature after signature, though the fact that Lumirian citizens were so distinctive already made it all very confusing. He couldn't remember the exact signature that Ambrosius carried, only that it was very unique, uncommon, and almost terrifying when felt. He attempted, for a moment, to lock onto that feeling of fear that he had carried when first encountering the man . . . though as he closed his eyes and focused, he heard a voice that wasn't far away, but instead very close. Adriel?! The man yelled. He remembered the voice, and so his mundane expression shifted to one that was elated and surprised. "Ambrosius," he replied. The man waited for only a second before stepping forward and embracing the man with a tight grip. "How are you? Are you okay? I was concerned; I couldn't find you." It might have had to do with the fact that he moved his residence to Valle. In fact, he knew it was his fault that they had lost contact, as he hadn't been studious enough in ensuring they had some way to find one another. He could almost say that he ran away from their attachments. This man brought out a side of Adriel that existed only in depravity, a fearsome man that had all of the rage and the impulse with none of the grace and nobility. It was almost worrisome to be in his presence again - he felt that Ambrosius had some sort of effect on him, a control. One that he did not wish to resist when it came down to it all.

He didn't know what to say. He did leave him. Whether it was intentional or unintentional was a battle that was juggled in his head. He knew only that he needed some time away from things - to recollect himself. He had become infatuated in Ambrosius so quickly, and yet it wasn't the sort of infatuation that he expected himself to replicate. It was as loving as it was twisted. His feelings were strong, and yet jagged. Something about this man drove him insane. To have him now, against his chest, gripping Adriel for dear life and acting as if tormented by their distance . . . he greatly regretted that he did not try harder to find him a lot sooner. They had formed a . . . unique predilection towards one another, and as the one who maintained control between the two, Adriel had a responsibility to ensure his happiness.

"I'm sorry." His tone was strange. It was thick with confusion. Confusion as to why this man had such an effect on him, and why Adriel had such an effect in return. Confusion as to why he was driven to such strange characteristics when close to him. Confusion as to why, more than with anyone else, he felt such a constant boiling desire when Ambrosius drew near. "But . . . don't cry on me. I'm not good with crying," he said, calmly. The man placed his hands firmly beneath Ambrosius' chin, and raised his eyes to meet with his own. "I searched for a long time; tried my damnest to see you. I won't have you cry on me when we should be celeberating. Do you understand?" He smiled faintly. "Your Lord has returned, and he missed you fiercely. So be happy for me. You're prettier with a smile on your face." He could already feel the difference. He didn't battle with rhetoric or worry his words would carry consequences. Ambrosius was his to command, his to decide over, and his to gain comfort and counsel from in the dire straits that Adriel had come to live in.

The man looked up, witnessing the brazen title of the tavern that Ambrose had stepped out from: the Rooster and Kitten. He scoffed. "I hope you haven't been living in that tavern since I left for Kusana. To be honest, the name's pretty ******** funny, but I can smell the looseness of the patrons genitals from over here." Smelled like fish and month-old fermented oil.