Centro del Mondo (formerly known as Regù)
Greater Sartoria
Valente Ratti scowled as he checked his watch. She was 5 minutes late. She was always several minutes late. Why? They always did it the same day, at the same time, in the same place, and she knew that. So why was she always late? He had arrived 10 minutes before, almost ready, and had spent the time since then preparing the room, setting everything up, so that they could begin almost as soon as she arrived. If she decided to grace him with her presence.
As if she had read his thoughts, Lucrezia entered the room, looking as casual as always, completely aware of the fact that she was late, and that he hated that, but pretending to be oblivious. Without uttering a single word, she approached him, kissed him on his left cheek, and began undressing, placing her clothes on a nearby chair.
“You are late.”
“I like call it being early with style.”
“You can call it whatever you want. I was still waiting for you for 5 minutes.” he said, handing her a set of dark brown robes.
“You worry too much! We are still doing this, and it’ll be awesome.” she said, putting on the robes, and extending the hood, so all that could be seen of her were her bright eyes shining in the darkness of the room.
“I see you got everything ready while you waited.”
“Yes, it’s all here. We just need to get on with it. Are you all set?”
“Sure. Let’s go then.”
Valente and Lucrezia, one with black robes, the other with brown ones, approached a long table, extended their hands, palms facing downwards, and began chanting in Mazzialatto, the ancient language. It was mandatory to learn the chants in school, and to understand their meaning, but few people could actually translate Mazzialatto.
They kept chanting, until Valente gently prodded her on her side, nodding at the knife resting on one end of the table. He kept chanting, but she stopped, grabbing the knife, and performing the necessary rituals. It had to be properly prepared before being used in the ceremony, otherwise it would be a simple kitchen knife, and that would be no good for their purposes. As soon as it was ready, she shivered, and see Valente shiver as well, both feeling infused with the strength and power to carry on. It was their second time doing this on their own, and they were sure that their power, and their connection to the Eyeless, was growing, and would continue to grow.
Valente increased his chanting, joined again by Lucrezia, as they eyed almost fanatically the person on the table. They commended themselves to the Eyeless. The knife was swiftly lowered onto the person, who softly exhaled, the twinkle of life leaving their eyes, a payment for the eventual restoration of the Eyeless.
Valente and Lucrezia rejoiced, certain that Sacur, the Eyeless, the Emperor of Sartoria, was pleased with them.