A belittling, but beautiful, building was where Alsop and Alister had been for the majority of the chilly day ahead of them. The general and Axel had focused on fighting the minotaur, but Alsop and his mentor had made their way to the Royal Hall, a stunning sight as the festive lights of the exterior still gleamed brightly through the slight downpour. Inside, the building was easily as grand as its exterior. The air was a class perhaps richer for Alsop's tastes, but it was not something he had not been accustomed to dealing with. The very finest of Bournington had made their way to a ball, with a superficial, exotic fashion taste. Many would bear craftsmanship that was incredibly rare, all in the hopes that they would stand out amongst the riches of the crowd. Although gentle to the eyes, many of these ostentatious people had ulterior motives driving their facades, and to Alsop's wary eyes he could all but feel slightly alienated.

Clutching his eyes with awe, one such drama had unfolded right ahead of him. An older lady had been gracefully gliding her son around a board of potential suitors, perfecting his image to the eyes of many ladies. But deep within, a small glimmer within the young man's pupils had glinted with a feeling of pain. This channelled a sense of irritation within Alsop.

"I see you've taken note of something that doesn't exactly appease you?" Said Alister.

"I – I just..." Alsop had been caught off guard.

"Keep your composure, Alsop, I know the feeling within you. It makes a good lesson for you, stay true to yourself. Ignore these foolish people." Alister smiled.

Alsop looked up to his mentor, his captain of high ranking. Could such a person be allowed to oppose the rich masses with no fear? Leaving Alsop in thought, the captain had stopped for a second. He had seen something, but whether the matter was malicious or the usual nonchalance of the rich, his initiative was to ignore it as he moved onwards.

Sat sternly in the centre of the building, at the top of a row of boxed booths, King Cedric Hammerhead engraved himself comfortably in his richly furnished throne. He was laughably small, incredibly cruel and shaped similarly to a ball. His hair was a grotesque dye of green, trimmed slightly but rather effortlessly and his eyes were a crooked lime colour, shining only at sinister things. He had recognised the entrance of Alsop and Alister, reluctantly releasing his intrigued gaze from the sights of the ball towards their presence.

"Alister, what have you brought me here? A knight, perhaps a rogue one?" He asked, his muddy smile turning to Alsop.

"No, your majesty. He is not rogue. Not at all. He is my follower for a few weeks, Alsop Dusseldorf." Said Alister.

"Dusseldorf, you say? That name is somewhere in the back of my head." The King mumbled with frustration.

"You may know my father, Lux Buchanan." Said Alsop.

"What? Lux Buchanan? The knight to take down the Seven Deadly Sins?" The King questioned.

"Yes, that Lux." Said Alsop, his tone was light and unwilling.

"You dislike him?" Asked the King.

"There is no need to place words in his mouth now. May I ask why there are little to no knights here?" Asked Alister.

"The general, he's taken them somewhere." Said the King, his attention was now partial and more favoured to the ball.

"Surely you cannot expect me to protect you solely. Where are the other captains?" Asked Alister with deep frustration.

"They're not here. You're all I have, is that a problem?" Asked the King.

"I am fine with the job, but I did not pack enough ammunition, in the case of unexpected work." Said Alister.

The captain had always been against the use of swords, he would persistently suggest the use of his own, handcrafted weapon which he deemed near perfect: a pair of muskets. These muskets were finely crafted of hardwood and laced with iron. The pair were handed down to Alister by his parents, a couple who were fond of the future of combat. Whilst the idea of guns was not entirely unheard of, they were regarded as a relatively new piece of craftsmanship in Bournington - mostly due to the complexity of its production compared to a simple sword.

"Unexpected work?" Alsop asked as his eyes shined at Alister's weapons.

"Ah, you see." Alister had waited for the King to return his attention to the ball. "This one is quite prone to attack. Many are not fond of his leadership and they are willing to get his head." He said.

"Well, Alister. If I may let out a secret with you?" Asked Alsop, his stance wary of the King.

"You have my attention." Replied the captain.

"My duty lies to serve under the King, but I dislike him. I would very much enjoy seeing someone else lead the kingdom." Said Alsop, a gulp following his confident confession.

The captain looked at Alsop thoughtfully. His eyes stared deeply with a denting and degrading residue. His lips pursed as he gazed at his small mentee. His arms crossed sternly in an uncomfortable fashion. He surveyed Alsop, up and down, and then tilted his eyes to the King, who was obliviously spectating the ball.

"Well then." Alister said with a pause. "It's good to know somebody else loathes the person I work for." He concluded with a sigh of relief.

"You dislike him too?" Asked Alsop, a small, hidden smile on his lips.

"Yes, very much. He is nothing like King Marielle, oh what a pleasure he was to work for. Now look what I have, a wicked and wretched man." Said Alister, his mind beginning to submerge with emotions of warmth and ice.

"It makes no sense. Before he went missing, why would King Marielle have left him of all people in charge?" Asked Alsop, the pair had now set their dagger set of eyes towards the King's back.

"Corruption is my thought, but it is only a thought. King Marielle would never pick him, he is unworthy." Said Alister confidently.

"Why do you work for him then? I can see you hate him, Alister." Asked Alsop.

"I believe you have read me wrong then, Alsop. My duties are to the King, but I work for my sense of justice. There are many evils in this world." Said Alister.

"Don't you have anything else to work for?" Asked Alsop.

"No. I suppose another reason now, is a token of loyalty for King Marielle." Said Alister.

The two paused suddenly from their faint conversation, as the captain had lifted his finger to utter Alsop into silence. He had spotted something once again, except this time it taunted in his face a dangling sense of malice within their stare. This figure was tall, dark and overbearing with a sense of sinister sorcery - something had seemed strange about its presence and appearance. But with a single blink, it vanished. Was it a minor hindrance of Alister's age, or something more lurking?

"Alister?" Alsop hesitantly called out.

"I believe I may have just seen a sin cultist, but I hope I am wrong. It may be my age, my eyes." Said Alister gravely.

"A sin cultist...?" Alsop had submerged his thoughts to his encounter last night.

"Yes." Alister turned to view his faint friend. "You seem to be aware of what they are?" He gathered.

"I saw one last night." Alsop cryptically said.

"You, what? You have seen a sin cultist in Bournington?" Alister was struck with disbelief.

"Yes..." Said Alsop.

"You wouldn't happen to know which sin it served under? What did it look like?" Asked Alister.

"I'm not sure. And it was a ghostly, terrifying thing. I don't even know if it was human." Said Alsop.

"Well, it would have been human. However, if it was as disfigured as you say, it rules out some of the sins." Said Alister, his mind at thought.

"So, if you just saw a sin cultist, what do we do?" Asked Alsop.

"What was that?" The King had turned around suddenly. "There's a sin cultist here? Then you must get me out of here now!" He demanded with a loud tone, but his exclamation for safety had brought upon them unwanted attention.

"Thank you, thank you for alerting everybody." Sighed Alister.

The crowd below was now in complete chaos, but it was organised, as somebody had come to their rescue instantly. Taking centre stage, the figure was no different to a normal person, but it had a fair few distinctive features flourished across them. Their clothing was a simple, uncared for, black robe that covered everything up to their visage. Their posture was strange, as the figure was afraid to walk, instead choosing to stumble about. At the ring of frenzy to its ear, the figure chuckled and then it looked up with fiery eyes, to the cold demeanour of the King.

"A sin cultist!" Shouted the King.

"Allow this to be a statement, King Hammerhead!" Laughed the sin cultist madly.

Against the glamouring lights of the ball, the spotlight on the figure allowed for its face to be revealed. An aged man with a crooked smile and a pulsing, red set of eyes. This cultist had been almost similar to Alsop's late-night terror, but the lack of a foggy shroud covering the face of the being was different. Could it have been, the cultist wanted to be seen? The sentiment could certainly be carried through his next actions, as soon, he had begun glowing with an immensely blinding shade of red. A sacrificial shriek stormed out of the cultist's mouth, echoing across the halls of the ball, but a fast-paced shuffle struck Alsop's ears. Alister had quickly forced Alsop down to the ground, with the King also joining him in a hopeless manner.

Travelling like a set of flying daggers, a parade of bullets scorched through the air, aimed at the cultist. A cool swivel of sound came from the swooping shots, but soon a monumental blast had reaped the ears of all nearby. And with such a deafening disaster, no other sounds appeared to come for a long period. But eventually, a faint sound of glass crackling had wickedly washed into everyone's ears, as the boots of an outsider crept through a crevice now made. There was no longer a trace of the prior figure. It was dust. The captain did not miss his bullets, but the ulterior motive of the figure was now clear, as his comrades had been granted a passage to the ball. The residue of his explosive, charred body searched starkly across the red floor of bodies. There no longer was a crowd. The dust had flown about the room, to finally land in the breaths of each victim - who painfully struggled to breathe. The composer of this orchestrated plan had now arrived at a fallen ball with ease.