Free Web NovelPavela leaned against the wall, looking at the three unconscious figures lying in a row before her.
The one on the far left was a Sequence II of the Path of the Magician.
His reactions were indeed faster than the other two—at the moment Pavela struck, he even managed to condense a golden protective light screen.
"A bit interesting," she had thought at the time.
Unfortunately, that light screen shattered like a soap bubble under Pavela's fingertips.
Then he was taken down.
Now he was sleeping soundly.
"Slightly interesting," she corrected her previous assessment.
Pavela brushed the dust off her hands.
The narrow passage was filled with a damp, musty smell; dark water stains seeped from the cracks between the bricks on the walls, and the occasional squeak of a rat drifted from the deeper darkness.
She looked up toward the half-open iron door at the end of the passage.
A dim yellow light leaked through the crack in the door, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° accompanied by the faint sound of voices.
In fifteen minutes, she would create an earth-shattering "accident" there.
...
Today was the twenty-seventh of the last month.
Four days had passed since the Winter Solstice, which was the twenty-third of the last month.
Pavela's secret society, "White Dove," had also been born four days ago.
That day, in that forgotten reading room, the first person to arrive was Frederick.
When he pushed open the door, his face wore an expression of "I don't even know why I'm here."
"Pavela." He stood at the door, his golden left eye flickering in the candlelight. "I must say, the place you've chosen perfectly fits the aesthetic of a'secret society.'"
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
Pavela pointed to a chair in the corner.
"Sit."
Frederick sighed, walked in, and sat on the nearest chair.
"I still don't quite understand," he said. "You said you wanted to establish an organization to 'end the war,' but how exactly are we going to do that?"
"We'll talk once everyone is here."
"How many people?"
"Including you, six."
Frederick raised an eyebrow.
"There are only six of us, and we're going to end a war that has killed gods know how many people?"
"Quality is more important than quantity."
"Well said. It sounds like you're complimenting me."
"That wasn't a compliment."
While they were talking, the door was pushed open again.
The second to arrive was Reinhardt.
He stood at the door and froze for a moment when he saw Frederick.
"You're here too?"
"Surprised?"
"A little." Reinhardt walked over and sat down next to Frederick. "I remember you saying you would very firmly refuse such a thankless and dangerous task."
"I thought I would refuse too." Frederick shrugged. "And you? Didn't you say you weren't interested either?"
"Well, I said that specifically to lie to you."
"Nutcase."
The third to arrive was Alicia.
She didn't knock; she simply appeared in the corner of the room, like a mass of congealed moonlight.
Her platinum-blonde hair shimmered faintly in the darkness, and her purple eyes looked at Pavela.
"Is there pudding?"
"On the table."
Alicia's gaze shifted to where Pavela was pointing.
A small plate held an exquisite caramel pudding, its caramel layer glistening under the candlelight.
She drifted over, sat down, and began to eat.
Frederick and Reinhardt exchanged a glance.
"Just like that?" Frederick asked in a low voice.
"Just like that," Pavela said.
"...How did you convince her?"
"Pudding."
"No, I mean—"
"Pudding."
Frederick opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He decided not to press further.
The fourth to arrive was Katya.
When she pushed open the door, her movements were light, almost silent.
A light-colored trench coat wrapped around her lean frame, and a red scarf was looped twice around her neck, making her features appear much softer.
"I'm not too late, am I?"
Her voice was also very soft, as if she were afraid of disturbing something.
"Not late."
Pavela said, "Take a seat."
Katya walked in and sat on the chair furthest inside.
Her movements were restrained, hands placed on her knees, shoulders slightly hunched.
Unlike the wildcat driven into a corner in the dueling arena, the current Katya had a hard-to-describe fatigue and softness in her eyes.
However, according to Pavela's observations, this was her everyday self.
As long as Katya didn't appear with Julian, she was such a silent and gentle girl.
As a fellow commoner, she was very similar to Natasha.
Both had lost their homes and families in the war, and both hated this war.
But Katya and Natasha also had their differences.
For instance, she was willing to spend almost all of her spare time in commoner communities and orphanages.
The fifth to arrive was Natasha.
She was the last.
When she pushed open the door, her face bore a complex expression—there was doubt, wariness, curiosity, and a tiny bit of expectation she hadn't even noticed herself.
"You've come," Pavela said.
"I've come," Natasha replied.
She looked around and saw Frederick, Reinhardt, Alicia, and Katya.
Four people, four expressions.
Frederick was smiling, a smile that carried a flavor of "welcome to the madhouse."
Reinhardt had already started whittling wood, not even looking up.
Alicia was already eating her second pudding, completely immersed in her own world.
Katya looked at her and nodded.
Natasha took a deep breath.
Then she walked in and closed the door.
With that, the first general meeting of the "White Dove" began.
The first agenda item was to decide what the society should be called.
Actually, the name "White Dove" was Frederick's idea.
"White Dove." Natasha repeated the name, her tone carrying an indescribable subtlety. "We're a group of people who want to end the war, and we're called 'White Dove.'"
"It symbolizes peace," Frederick defended. "A classic image, easy to understand, and easy to spread."
"And easy to be laughed at." Reinhardt didn't look up. "It sounds like a charity tea party hosted by some noble lady." freёweɓnovel.com
"Do you have a better suggestion?"
"No."
"Then shut up."
Pavela leaned back in her chair, watching the argument with interest.
To be honest, she didn't feel strongly one way or the other about the name "White Dove."
But considering the names she had proposed—"Abyssal Gazer," "Twilight Inquisition," "Embers in the Ash"—had all been collectively rejected, she decided to remain silent for now.
"I actually think," Katya said softly, "doves... are very cute."
The room fell silent.
Frederick looked at her, moved: "Finally, someone understands me."
"I only said doves are cute," Katya added. "I didn't mean the name was good."
Frederick's expression froze.
"Fine, it's passed," Pavela made the final call. "We'll be called White Dove. Next item."
"Wait—"
"Next item!"
The second agenda item was the organizational structure.
"I propose," Frederick raised his hand, "that we adopt a democratic system. All major decisions will be voted on by all members, passing with a simple majority."
"Opposed," Pavela said.
"Why?"
"Because you'll vote for stupid resolutions."
"...Your understanding of democracy is a bit flawed."
"My understanding of democracy is very accurate," Pavela said. "That's why I oppose it."
Reinhardt looked up for once, a hint of approval flashing in his gray eyes.
"She's right."
"When did you start siding with her?" Frederick asked, shocked.
"Since she started being right."
Pavela lightly tapped the table.
"My proposal is this: everyday matters will be decided by democratic vote. But in emergency situations, or when it involves judgments within my area of expertise, I have the final say."
"And what counts as your area of expertise?" Natasha asked.
"Killing, arson, making someone disappear without a trace, making an event look like an accident," Pavela counted on her fingers. "Infiltration, intelligence analysis, psychological games, tactical planning, and—"
—Making six people do what six hundred people couldn't."
The room was quiet for a few seconds.
Alicia finished her second pudding and began using her spoon to scrape the remaining caramel from the bottom of the plate.
The sound of the scraping spoon was exceptionally clear in the silence.
"...Agreed." Natasha was the first to speak. "But I reserve the right to question you."
"Of course."
"Agreed," Reinhardt said.
"Agreed," Katya said.
Frederick sighed: "Fine, agreed. But if you make a decision that's too outrageous, I will give you a piece of my mind."
"No problem," Pavela smiled slightly. "I'm looking forward to it."
Alicia finally put down her spoon and raised her purple eyes to Pavela.
"...Is there more?"
"Second shelf in the cupboard."
"Then I agree too."
At that moment, in that damp and dark basement, six people made a decision that might change the course of history.
Frederick later recalled that the atmosphere was actually quite solemn.
If you ignored the sound of Alicia's footsteps as she trotted off to get more pudding.
