Chapter 104

Shadow of the Walls

“We were never meant to arise; we were set to never be alive; ghosts of the endless lie; we were the accursed sigh.”

Bard Collection

Elucido was calm, too calm, Noah realized immediately upon returning. The streets were nominally empty, the lack of music and chatter beyond evident. The guards lining them appeared nervous and taut, their fingers tightly wound around their weapons, eyes darting across every newcomer. It has changed, he noted, putting to memory most of it.

The entourage that he was a part of was allowed a quick and easy passage, though that was hardly the case for most others. From what Noah could tell, most were told to turn around and walk away, and very few, select ones were allowed entrance. Walking through the familiar streets felt cold, hollow; Noah realized that Jovyer’s death was one of those singular changes that have the capacity to change the world. Perhaps the death by itself may not, but the far-reaching consequences certainly do.

By the time he returned to his room, the night had slowly begun to fall. It was just as he remembered it, with nothing changed. The same walls, the same silence, the same view from the window… but it felt different, as though it was lacking something.

He immediately tossed himself onto the bed, not even bothering to disrobe, closing his eyes. Thoughts quickly swirled abound, congregating into an abomination that he couldn’t rationalize. The world around felt heavy and brooding, and his solitary figure too minute to hold it in its grasp.

Suddenly snapping his eyes open, he took a deep breath and flung himself onto his feet. Immediately coating his body in Dark, he left his room and started straying around the Palace’s grounds. Nobody noticed him, not the guards, not the maids, not a single soul seemed privy to his movements. He had no particular goal in mind, just a desire to learn firsthand the exact changes that had occurred within the Royal Grounds.

He visited War Complex where the Royal Guards were stationed and listened-in onto their hushed conversations; he learned nothing he already didn’t know, save for the fact that a couple of guards had gone missing on the day that Jovyer was found dead. Some whispered that it was one of the Princes, others that it was one of the Dukes and some yet that it was the King himself who staged his death as a murder, fond of theatrics.

Moving on from the War Complex, he visited the Royal Library only to find it completely empty, stacks and stacks of books upon the shelves sitting lonely in the dark. He scoured the collection, though found nothing of note; he knew from Olivia that most of the texts here were copies and that the truly important originals were kept in the Treasury, one that even he wasn't confident in breaking into.

Eventually, he began moving toward one of the residences, Princess Maria’s – the solitary member of Royal Family that he yet had the pleasure of meeting. Her mansion was a few stories taller than Olivia’s and had extra two buildings to the left, though he was unable to identify them with a glance.

Ignoring them, he instead snuck past the guards stationed everywhere, numbering in dozens, and moved directly toward the Dining Hall as he heard one of the guards mention the Princess was there in a meeting with someone.

The mansion was structured similarly to Olivia’s, with one, grand hall decorated with massive stairwells leading to the upper floors, and dozens of doors leading into sides of the mansion spread about. After a few rounds, he finally found the path leading to the Dining Hall; just like Olivia’s, it was tall and broad, lit up brilliantly by a dozen or so silver chandeliers and candelabras.

He immediately recognized Princess Maria from her descriptions that he'd read; she was a tall woman, bordering six feet, with long, curly brown hair and a body barely contained within the crimson dress she was wearing. As he approached, he slowed down and muffled all the sounds, including those of his breathing, quickly reaching the twenty-feet distance where he also saw another figure sitting opposite of her. Noah didn't recognize him, not from the portraits or from the descriptions; he was on the shorter end of things, five-foot-five by Noah's estimates, on the leaner side, draped in loose, black cloth and a pulled hood.

His appearance reminded Noah of monk’s attire back on Earth, and the bald head seemed to support the thesis. The man couldn’t exactly be called handsome, especially with a winding, snake-like scar running from the top of his head to his right cheekbone, darting across the closed eye. By the time he closed in within ten feet of the two, he was finally able to hear their muffled conversation.

“… times I have to repeat myself,” Maria said, frowning, her blue eyes narrowing into slits. “I did not withhold anything, Arcent Eyvul. What I’ve unearthed, I’ve given away. Don’t toss the empty accusations just because what you wanted wasn’t there.”

“I mean no offense, Princess Maria,” the man said with a calm voice and indifferent expression. “We were merely curious, that is all. After all, your return was rather hasted.”

“Hasted?” the Princess arched her brows in a seeming bout of shock. “There were six attempts at my life, Arcent Eyvul. Six. Two of which came from the men I am almost certain were members of the Order. Had I stayed much longer I would have been killed – not unlike my Father.”

“… you suspect your Father, His Majesty, was felled by a member of the Order?”

“No,” the Princess said, shaking her head. “They are bastardly, but they are only trying to whittle down contenders for the Holy War. From what I heard, even Ollie was targeted.”

“… Princess Olivia’s attempts, I’m afraid, were not carried out by members of the Order.” The man replied.

“They were not?” Maria frowned once again, rapping her fingers against the table. “Then by whom? Though her recent antics have caused some ire, I cannot think of anyone else who would want her dead.”

“We are not certain on the details either,” the man said. “Though we tried to probe deeper into it, we kept meeting dead ends, no matter where we looked. All we can say is that the orders for the attacks came from within Elucido and that the assassins had no personal relations with whoever hired them. They were mostly guards coming from mid-level families, likely poached by whoever paid them the coins.”

“…”

“Our plans will still proceed, Princess Maria,” the man said. “Though His Majesty’s death was an unforeseen circumstance, it changes nothing.”

“… you are a fool if you believe that, Arcent Eyvul,” Maria sighed, lowering her head. “My Father’s death changes everything. By the time the Holy War arrives, the likeliest scenario is that one of the Families will try to rebel.”

“And they will fail.”

“Of course they will," Maria scoffed. "But that is beside the point. A rebellion in the wake of the Holy War will toss the Kingdom into decades-long strife that will cost us all dearly. By the time we recover, chances are that half our population will have died."

“… then what do you propose?” the man asked as both of them suddenly shot up to their feet, turning to the side. A blade of Light appeared within Maria’s right hand, while the man clasped his hands in front of his chest, summoning a projection of himself behind his back, one made wholly of golden light.

Sounds of footsteps echoed out throughout the silent hall as a shrouded figure appeared just twenty feet from them, hooded and cloaked wholly, only a pair of eyes visible. The figure stopped and stared at them, its eyes moving from Maria’s blade onto the man’s projection.

“… your reactions are rather quick,” the figure spoke in a deep voice. “Though, we can stop with the theatrics. You would have never pulled back were your intentions to fight with me.”

“… who are you?!” Maria asked warily, though she already had a faint idea of the figure’s identity.

“… please,” the figure said, suddenly sitting down calmly. “We are all a civilized bunch; we may as well act it.”

"This is the private house of the Eldest Princess of Lumina," the man warned in a growling tone. "Do you understand that you have committed heinous treason?! Even death will not save your soul!"

“… that assumes I still have a soul,” the figure chuckled. “Well, Princess? Will we talk, or do I need to poke a few holes in the two of you for you to calm down?”

“You fiend—”

“That’s enough, Arcent Eyvul,” Maria interrupted the man as the blade in her hand sizzled out of existence, as though it was never there. The man turned to her, wanting to say something, but having met her eyes swallowed the words and pulled back the projection. The world calmed down again, though both he and Maria still remained standing in place, on guard. “Speak, Lord Skyler.”

“… Skyler?” the man’s eyes widened as he shuddered, increasing his guard further up.

“Lord? Ah, dear Princess, I’m afraid I’m Lord of nothing and no one,” the figure chuckled emptily. “Were I, perchance I would have foregone this life.”

“…”

“… your analysis is impeccable, Princess,” the figure said after a brief moment of silence. “Rumors really cannot be trusted; who would have thought that the seemingly frivolous, love-stricken Princess who is more interested in chasing boys half a Kingdom away than anything else… would be so perceptive.”

“… how much did you hear?” she asked with a frown; inside, however, she felt terror akin to nothing she ever felt before. The reason the two of them noticed the man… was entirely because he let them, she realized – as did the man standing next to her.

“… do you desire the Throne, Princess?” the man answered her question by a question of his own, tilting his head, his eyes turning up slightly, as though smiling.

“… why?” Maria asked.

“Just curious.”

"You hardly seem the type of man to ask empty questions. What? Will you also tell me that the Throne is already taken?"

“… how can it be taken?” the figure shrugged. “The man who held it had only just died.”

“… was murdered.”

“… does it matter?”

“If you think it doesn’t, then you are a fool.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t think it does,” the figure said. “What does it matter if the King simply died… or was murdered? The outcome is the same, regardless, and leaves the same hole, the same vacuum that now terrifies you, and I imagine all of your siblings. As for who took his life, while certainly a curious notion, I imagine you’d much rather focus on the hole his death left behind, rather than the death itself.”

“Perhaps to you it doesn’t matter,” Maria said, gnashing her teeth. “But… he was still my Father, Lord Skyler. Whatever the bards and the whores may say of me, and however the world may see me, I am yet to turn into the ilk of a monster that can forgo her Father’s murder.”

“… I did not kill him, Princess Maria,” the figure said suddenly, startling her. “If anything, your Father and I… well, I can’t exactly say we were friends, but we did share a few chats here and there. However sad you are over his death, I am thrice as angry; and, one day, I will find out who did it and shove a sword so far down their throats that they will be shitting steel. Until then, however, just like you I want to focus on damage control.”

“… why come to me?” she asked. “There are better options for you.”

“… and who said I only came to you?” the figure chuckled faintly as he got up. “Don’t drift too far, Princess Maria. I will deal with the people who had intentions toward Princess Olivia – think of it as my way of currying favor with you – while you… ah, it may be a bit presumptions of me to suggest it, but I do not think it would be a waste of time for you to look into Her Majesty. Birds whisper dangerous things, Your Highness. And I am inclined to believe them…” just as Maria was to call out toward him, the figure vanished, leaving both her and Eyvul shocked.

Despite using both Light and eyes to search for him, he was nowhere – he blew into a ghastly mist and disappeared, as though he was never in front of them, to begin with. He vanished right in front of their eyes, while their senses were locked onto him – both realized that, had he wanted them dead… they'd be dead. Maria, however, quickly strayed onto the man's parting words – though his words sounded relatively ordinary… the implications were heavy. Too heavy, she realized. Yet… she couldn't merely discard his suggestion. If the figure who could kill the Duchess of the Kingdom in front of the army of her guards and then disappear into the night, never to be found, implied that her Mother was involved in the tale somehow… she knew she at least had to humor him if nothing else.