Synopsis: The past, the present, the future. These are the three aspects that brings the world to balance, a perfect state of three. It is impossible for one to overtake another. Solve the mystery, Arin. Decipher the past, ours and theirs.
A/N: Wow this chapter took a while! This chapter is divided into two sections: Glimpse into the Past and Present. The Glimpses are flashbacks and the numbers indicate the chronological order of the glimpses. Present sections are the story. As always, longer A/N at the bottom.
Glimpse into the Past 2
Multiple burly elves protect the perimeter of the marble fountain with ropes made of metal and weapons made of hard wood. There is a celebration going on today. Nearly a hundred people—mostly foreign, but all of them regal—talk amongst one another while holding either a tall cup of champagne or a skewer of bread and cheese. They form their own small conversational groups, but one duo sticks out as being quite peculiar.
The man, tallest amongst these elves, fairies, and humans, has a wrinkled expression so revolting, he might fright off a bear with his gape alone. The girl by his feet is a small wide-eyed elf wearing a green dress that gives her the appearance of a dragonfly. She can hardly keep up with the man's incredible strides, but she will not surrender her nagging until the man hands her what she wishes. After a good amount of tugging and kicking, the man stops his motions, swiftly confiscates the girl's book, signs his name with a pen, and then resumes his usual walk.
Holding the book in a victory stance, she runs back to her master, the Elder of Magic, and shows him the prize.
A few seconds later, a voice rallies the attention of the dispersed crowd, and in a shuffling mass, they organize themselves on the white chairs atop the grassy field. The announcer is a fairy of small stature but powerful eloquence. So strong are her words, that by the end of her introduction, the crowd erupts in applause. But of course, she is not the main speaker of today's gathering. She welcomes the next person, the aforementioned tall man. He introduces himself to the crowd, but his voice is so low that the audience is stunned into an awkward silence. Well aware of this, the man seizes the opportunity to speak of a sensitive subject. In her excitement the dragonfly girl suddenly screams, "That's the Mercenary! The Mercenary!" before her master pulls her back onto her seat.
The Mercenary starts his discussion with the number three and its importance in achieving perfection. Certainly, three is the magic number of balance. Yet, perfection is not three, but the goal of one which drives the three. Unless this goal is attained, nothing can be perfect. There are those who recognizes this and as—
He lets out a sharp scream which is immediately stifled. His arms flail behind him as if an assailant is choking him.
But nothing is there.
It is as if some invisible force has taken ahold of him—a force which slowly takes him to the middle of the fountain. The audience is utterly stunned at this sudden change. Some feel it might plausibly be part of an elaborate routine. Others cannot think at all, only watch the scene of murder before them. There is one last, desperate scream before a spray of crimson colors stains the fountain; the droplets freeze in midair as the dragonfly girl takes it in. Everything seems to happen in the span of seconds.
The Mercenary's body floats up and drifts to the edge of the pool.
A pregnant woman tumbles into the ground in pain.
What did The Mercenary scream?
It sounds a lot like…
…save your.
Present
The guards arrive in less than thirty seconds after the iron slab fell from its position fifty feet above the center of the auditorium's stage. Calls of murder and stomping of footsteps radiate across the chamber, making it impossible to tease apart the layers of sounds. The auditorium is pitch-black save for the blinding spotlight pointing at the scene of the crime. Beneath those lights are the remains of the magic trick—the splinters of a wooden coffin, the iron slab, and a growing pool of blood. It melds with a pool of wine beneath the table; the mixture flows off the stage's edge.
After about ten minutes, the audience has vacated the auditorium. Only Lizbeths, three Ossyrian policemen, the witness and the suspect remains on stage. "Heavens, it was terrible!" the magician, the witness, cries to a policeman. "I had asked for two volunteers to assist in the performance—one to go into the box, and another to inspect the chains. It was a daring escape act you see. But the volunteer didn't escape! My act was ruined! But oh, I know what you are thinking but I assure you I had left him a key."
The other officers lift up the slab, displaying the iron spikes and dripping blood. They then toss aside the wooden chips so that they can examine the slaughtered body. One of them retches on the pulpy remains, destroying the dignity of the recently deceased.
"But that scoundrel did not deliver the key as planned!" blasts the magician, pointing at the only volunteer to survive the ordeal.
The volunteer stomps his feet at the accusation. "What? You've never told me anything of that sort!" the volunteer booms in fury, making his way to the witness. Lizbeths holds the man back before a second murder can take place.
"Then why would the key still remain in your pocket when they frisked you?" the magician returns with a twirl of his whiskers.
"I do not know how the object ended in my pocket! I was framed, I tell you, honest to all that is divine! Guard Captain, you believe me, do you not?" The Guard Captain thinks for a moment, and then pulls out the key he found in the volunteer's pockets.
"I am uncertain as to what to believe," Lizbeths says, squeezing the upper bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry Freud, but it is obvious you were the one. Guards, take him away."
The two officers clutch the culprit by his arms and drag him across the stage. Along the way, the group bumps into the wine-stained table, tipping over an upside-down chalice. They also kick aside a flat, metallic object that was among the wooden debris. All this, of course, is not lost to a woman still in the audience's seats. She had hidden herself in the dark corner so she may enjoy this gleeful case.
"Guard Captain!" she announces her presence soon after Freud had been removed. The Guard Captain, at once startled, recomposes himself. "I have a different opinion as to what has happened here." She continues to talk while heading down the aisle. "You see, this was all a masterminded plan. The magician first chose two volunteers from the audience, one of which was a very specific accomplice. His role was to fake his own death and fool the audience into thinking this was a deliberate murder. This gave the magician an opportunity to push all blame onto the other volunteer while the accomplice disappeared."
The woman picks up the metallic object, a guard tries to stop her, but Lizbeths pulls him back with an outstretched arm. "I know who she is. She's Detective Arin from Kathareena," he says. She gives no glance to the supposedly false cadaver. Who cares when there is a mystery to solve and only a few minutes make an impression? "If I heard you correctly," Lizbeths surmises, "you are saying that Mr. Spiegelmann here was the mastermind of this murder?"
"That I am still uncertain of. But I am certain he had a hand in this. It was meticulously planned because the illusion had to be done within ten seconds."
"What are you blathering about?" asks Spiegelmann. "Are you saying that I am the true culprit of this murder?"
"And he can think," Arin declares as sarcastically as possible. "Tell me, magician, why would you choose a complete stranger for such a dangerous act. This trick cannot be performed with a non-accomplice."
"Well, I admit he was my accomplice," he returns as if there is nothing he can possibly hide. "As a matter of fact, this tragedy could have been averted if the other volunteer had delivered the key as I had secretly requested."
The Guard Captain is about to make a remark about his accomplice, but Arin speaks before he does. "So you admit he was an accomplice. Good. Moving on. Guard Captain, do you know what this is in my hand? It is a pulley that flew out of the box when the iron slab smashed into it. I believe this pulley was used to escape the stage for the ten-second illusion. You see, beneath this part of the stage," she taps her feet against the ground, creating a hollow beat, "is a trap door where a false body could be swapped with the accomplice's."
"Ah, well, now that you mention it, yes, there is a trap door here to the underground hallway," Lizbeths confirms. "If I understand where this is going, you are saying that a rope and pulley system was used within the span of this 'ten second illusion'?"
"That is mostly correctly, but they did not use rope. They used chains so that it would blend with the chains used for the magic act." Arin gives the magician an accusing glare.
Spiegelmann groans. "Detective, I am sorry, but I cannot accept your ridiculous theory," Spiegelmann says. "What ten-second illusion? This is far too complex for my devices."
"You know, magician," she immediately says. "There is a very fundamental way to prove my theory." She walks over to the table where the chalice is. Besides it is a shiny key. "Do you remember this key? Is it true that you placed it here right after locking the chains over your accomplice?"
"That is true. What are you getting at?"
"Quite, simple really. If you had switched the real accomplice with a dummy, as I suspect, then this key would not match this dummy lock."
"Oh, I see!" Lizbeth cries. "So by testing this key on the lock, we can tell if the locks were switched! Is it true, Mr. Spiegelmann? If it is, it would be better for you to admit it now."
"Well, um," he gulps. As he is about to say something in his defense, a scream captures the attention of the two crime-solving sleuths.
"Emergency! It's an emergency!" screams a guard, bursting through the door. "The Judge, The Judge is dead!"
"Yeah, we know already. Shush, the criminal is about to confess his crimes," Lizbeths says.
"No, we found another body!"
Wine saturates the scene of the second murder. The body was dumped inside an overflowed barrel, spilling wine over the center of this wine cellar. The ground is horribly damp, so much in fact that every step creates splashes and ripples. Two policemen lift the soaked and compressed body and roll it over the ground. At first glance, his face is scratched and rendered unrecognizable. However, they hold dim lamps over the body so that Arin may take a closer examination.
Before going in, Lizbeths warns, "You know, Arin, this might not be good for the stomach."
"Then it might benefit you to stay outside while the elf does the work," she remarks, moving closer to the stench of half-fermented wine. "Which employee discovered the body?" she asks, noting the key still in the cellar's doorknob. The janitor, one of the policeman answers, and Arin proceeds with the deductions.
A man, late thirties, long brown hair, dressed in a shredded suit. Two nearly identical necklaces lie around his neck. His most prominent features are the infinitely many lacerations across his body. They come in all shape and dimensions so it is difficult to pin-point the fatal cut—possibly the one deep in the skull or the heart, unless of course he died from blood loss.
"What a terrible way to treat someone," Lizbeths comments. "This must be the passionate work of a psychopath."
"Your judgments are premature as always, Liz," she says, remembering their last meeting three years ago. She was requested to come to Ossyria for the purpose of a Phantom copycat case. It was only a case because the Guard Captain helping with the investigation was incompetent. She had it solved within minutes.
"It is not!" he affirms. "Look at all these cuts—clearly the work of a psychopath's blade."
"Count these cuts, Liz. There are at least a hundred, and it has barely been thirty minutes since The Judge's faked death. The murder weapon is something much more elaborate than a blade. Take a look at these. When spoken to with a personal word, these necklaces summon armor over the wearer. Do you know what happens when two armors are summoned over another? They explode from the compression."
"So you mean these armors are the murder weapon?"
"It is not farfetched at all. The Alliance recently discovered this flaw and used it as a secret tactic against the Black Army. Also, every Magcintus citizen carries one necklace. If we presume one of these belongs to The Judge, then who is the owner of the other?"
"You are suggesting that one of the Magcintus guests killed The Judge?" he asks in disbelief.
"I am disinterested in the politics of this murder. It is still possible that this necklace was stolen. We need to find out more about these necklaces to be sure. What I am certain of is this: The Judge went into the passages, he was murdered, and his body was somehow brought into a wine cellar."
"Would you like an interrogation with the Magcintus guests, then?"
"Do whatever you want. For now, I would like to rest. You can tell me the results tomorrow morning."
Glimpse into the Past 3
When Aris finds Mr. Essin, he has an umbrella shielding him from the gaze of the sky. A particularly foggy snowstorm clouds his features leaving nothing but a dark silhouette. The storm rages, burying the lower half of his body in snow.
"Beowan," Aris calls him. He is a temperate man with a shaven head and in robes blue as the deep ocean. She had heard from the monks of Kathareena Shrine that Mr. Essin enjoys treacherous hikes against the rockiest of earths and harshest of storms. His bamboo umbrella is his only possession, and when he stands still as he is doing now, he seems like a tree that had either grown against the unforgiving soil, or weathered to death by the harshness of nature. "Beowan," she calls him again.
"May I help you, stranger?" he responds, seemingly without motion. Aris moves closer and discovers that he is in fact still among the living. His cheeks are very pale as if he had allowed the cold to bury him. Then, to Aris's surprise, he shakes loose the weight of the snow from his shielding umbrella. Unburdened, Mr. Essin can now clearly distinguish the small elf before him.
"I am here to talk about three years ago when you were still Mr. Essin, the writer of Protos and a researcher invited to the meeting regarding the elven curse."
"You must excuse me because I was not a researcher. I cannot help you much."
"I believe you can. Your friend, Lord Gordon was murdered three years ago by a monster. Following that was a string of murders, starting in the Elven lands and leading all the way here to Kathareena. You are next, Mr. Essin."
"Yes." He folds the umbrella. "These murders are strange. I knew them, the victims. They were all present during the meeting that Elphias organized. But even so, many attendants were spared, namely the women, children, and Elphias herself. I am even less conspicuous since the last few years of my life were spent as a weightless monk. Whoever propagated these murders will leave me alone."
"I don't think you understand your situation all too well. This monster does not stop. If it passes through here, it will kill you."
"Mercy, mercy," he chants, closing his eyes so that his bushy eyebrows cover his eyelids. "Then it would be best for us to find refuge. Stranger, let us return to the monastery so that we can discuss this with the local authorities."
"You will not, Mr. Essin. If we warn the police, it might scare the monster away. If I am to find the truth about the Mercenary's death, I need to let the monster come to me. Mr. Essin, you are going to help me hunt this monster."
Present
Luminous stirs from his tiny slumber to find himself in a place where he can hear his wheezing bouncing off a wall one inch from his lips. His body aches as if he had been used as a battering ram while unconscious. Still, he lifts his fingers just enough to touch the wall; it is made of aged, flaking wood and smells of mildew. There is no light, and the air is dirty and enclosed, giving him the impression that he is underneath a pile of dirt.
His senses awaken and he realizes he is leaning against something. Then, there is a flash in his memory. "Vieren," he says, scrambling his arms, unintentionally smacking his hand against something—a doorknob. He gives it a twist and it swings open easily. His legs give out, and he tumbles into a moonlit corridor. He recognizes the red velvet carpet below his resting cheek and upon standing up, he sees an Ace of Clubs on the ground.
There is no time for Luminous to think when a voice comes from around the corner. "First there is a murder and now a loud noise, geez," grumbles the voice. "If you are the murderer," screams the janitor, "you should hide before I find you or I'll pay you back for making me mop up the wine cellar and auditorium!"
Luminous discreetly returns into the enclosed chamber. Maple, Maple. He puts his hand over his chest but does not find his necklace. He pats around his robes and is surprised when he receives a stinging pain from his right shoulder blade. It is slightly damp and smells of blood.
The door swings open, and the janitor stands on the other side. Luminous's first reaction is to grab the nearest object he can, a broom, and thrust it at him. "Where is it?" he screams. "My necklace! Vieren took it! Where is he?"
"What in blazes! Take down that tool boy before someone gets hurt! Vieren you say? I never even heard of the fella."
"The Judge."
"You mean The Judge. Boy, you sure are slow. He died a couple of hours ago. They brought him to the morgue. Hey, where are you going? Geez, what a—hey, are you alright! Your back is covered with blood!"
Glimpse into the Past 4
The monster approaches the monastery. This monster cannot be seen, for in fact, it has the power to fade from existence. It comes across a bedroom with floors covered in dark powder—possibly graphite or soot. Should the monster step onto it, it would create an uplift that signals its presence. The girl must have found this intelligent on her part, but her pursuit of it has been one-sided at best. She would never have thought that Beowan would betray her by giving her a poisoned drink. "How long until she wakes up?" the monster makes its voice known.
"I've given her enough to last the day," Beowan explains, lifting the unconscious girl into his arms. "You shall not harm her, not as long as I am alive and standing."
"That is a tall order, Mr. Essin. Yet, it is about time for you to leave your wretched life behind." The monster materializes a freshly sharpened dagger.
"Take me and not her. If she is dead, I will not forgive you."
"She is hunting me and she will find me if she so chooses. When it comes to a stand-off, is it not fair that I take her life?"
"You cannot be found if you choose not to."
"You overestimate me and you underestimate her. Remember how dangerous these elves are with their prophetic abilities? Mr. Essin, you cannot convince me otherwise. This girl's powers, once awakened would be the end. These murders must continue and the resulting remorse is for me to bear."
Present
At the entrance of the courthouse, Detective Arin finds four soldiers each of different nationality barring the double doors. They will not allow her to enter even though the case being questioned was the one she was investigating. This is a very important case, they explain, one which involves the safety of the Alliance and Ereve. That barely satisfies the detective so she tries to break the door open as the guards hold her back. "Detective Arin, how good to see you. There is no need to be so worked up over a trial," greets Lizbeths.
"I didn't give them permission to conduct a trial. They told me the murderer was some magistrate without even a proper interrogation," Arin spats. She starts circling the entire courthouse while making conversation with the Guard Captain.
"He did attack the police station last night. It was something about his necklace, and you did say that whoever owns the necklace is the true murderer."
"I said no such thing."
"Well, whatever. It is out of our hands now since our investigative rights are revoked. Only the prosecutor has that now. He even took all the evidence."
"This is nothing but politics. Those monarchs want to resolve this case before they ignite the anger of Magcintus. Yet, they are oblivious of igniting my own anger."
"My, I'm shaking."
Arin stops at a tree near the back corner of the courthouse. It is rather high and pleasant so the duo climbs as far as they can so that they can peek at the trial from the high window. The view is quite terrible as the intricate bars of the windows blocks most of the faces and the floor is so polished that sunlight reflects off of it. She can just make out the four judges in the shadows. Czar Leon, Empress Gumi, and Basileus Adellus are plopping plump grapes into each other mouths while Empress Aria is scrunching her eyebrows.
"Politics," Arin spats again. After a few minutes, when the sun rises further into the sky, Arin can finally get a better view of the middle of the court. At the witness stand is one of the Magcintus guests. He is quite average in every which way except for his bravery which he has none. His eyes are focused to his right and when he answers the questions, Arin can detect an acute stutter. Arin cannot tell if he is nervous or if the questions are terrifying and never mind that.
"Who is that man?" Arin asks.
"That is Magistrate Cahal," Lizbeths explains. "He must have been brought in as a witness. I actually had the liberty of talking to him and he related to me a possible motive for the crime."
"Enlighten me."
"According to rumors, The Judge had a magic box which houses research on darkness. You know how much Magcintus respects the light. Researching darkness is practically a capital offence. Luminous found, probably, the research papers and then killed The Judge. It sounds reasonable enough."
"Did you arrest the culprit based on the necklace alone? How did you verify that it belonged to him?"
"Well we could not verify it without the word. But he was drenched in blood when we found him and he had a wound on his shoulder. I think this is proof enough of the struggle he had with The Judge."
"Is he in there? I—." Arin stops mid-sentence because a new figure had walked into view. It is Neinheart. "I want to examine his shoulder wound. Unless the fight happened in the wine cellar, he would've had to carry the body and not with a damaged shoulder."
"An impression deduction as always, but there are rolling carts in the underground passages. They are there to facilitate the employees when they have to carry objects in bulk from one place to another."
Arin looks through a different window which has a clearer view of the prosecutor's desk. It is sparse save for a cup of something, black coffee perhaps with three cups of sugar. "You mentioned a box. Where is it?"
"I don't know. But if the prosecutor is making a case with it, then he probably has it on his person. You know, I'm thinking spying on the trial might be some sort of international offence. Maybe we should get down before someone sees us."
"Not letting me get to the bottom of this case is a criminal offence."
"Why is this so important for you? With so much politics involved, I don't think you will ever solve this."
"Come on, Liz. You should know there is no case I cannot solve. Telling me this is only inviting me. Let me step on your back, I want to see the defense."
"It might be better actually for me to tell you instead. His name is Freud and according to Advisor Neinheart of Ereve, he is a cheap man who would do anything for five minutes in the spotlight. He is entirely unworthy of attention."
For some reason that explanation does not quell the detective so she reaches for a higher branch which there is none. Right before she can try something reckless, the sound of a girl draws her attention to the ground. "You're wearing a red hood!" she screams. She smells of sunflowers but dresses like a precious daddy's little girl. Her voice carries a high, innocent pitch which would sound absolutely shrill should she ever scream. "You're Detective Arin, aren't ya?"
"That is correct. I don't believe we have ever met."
"That would be the little miss, the old master's granddaughter," Lizbeths says.
"The name's Bella! I know who murdered The Judge! It has to be her! Last night, I saw someone suspiciously roaming the halls while impersonating Mercedes's maid!"
"That is quite the tall tale, little miss!" Lizbeths booms. "How do you know she isn't Mercedes's real maid?"
"Because she was in the lounge with you! I even asked your girlfriend and she said she was the only maid to accompany Queen Mercedes."
"She's not my—why am I explaining this to you. Run off now, Bella."
"Wait," Arin calls. "I want to hear more. How did this imposter look like?"
"Well, that's the thing. When I told this to everyone they didn't believe me at all. I don't know what she looks like. It sounds crazy but I could see her but not see her. It is like seeing someone who is invisible. But believe me! I know what I saw!"
This catches Arin off guard. She did not expect anything like this, no, not at all. She is visibly shaken by these words. A mixture of rage and sadness takes over her as though a pup has been gnawed to death before her eyes. It is a rage that stirs up injustice and a sadness that recalls her futility. It is some sort of despair which over takes her usual vanity for she finally understands the prophetic warnings passed onto her.
"Liz, there is still yet more to this case than I anticipated. We need to stop this trial," Arin says. "Let me borrow your coat."
Arin takes the red and black coat and wraps it around her body. Next, she wears her hood and tightens the draw string so that only her eyes are visible. Then she steps forward, nearing the window and the tip of the branch. Lizbeths figures what she is doing but could not grab her in time. In seconds, she crashes through the window, tumbling cleanly into a well-placed trashcan.
The courtroom immediately freezes in place as if frozen in time. The members of the court redirect their attention to the mysterious attendee. She shakes herself out of the trashcan and slings off the coat, sending glass and trash across its flight path. "That was my favorite coat!" she hears someone cries from above and outside.
"Give me back my investigative rights!" she screams before she can control herself. They stare at her, and Arin finally realizes she is intruding upon a trial headed by four monarchs. "Reason being that the prosecutor is low in blood and cannot continue on. This is an emergency!" She takes Neinheart's shoulders in her hands. "He is about to faint any second. Isn't that right Neinheart?"
"What is this show, Arin?" Neinheart whispers, baring his teeth. "This is a most sacred trial!"
"Remember that favor you owed me," she whispers back. "I am calling it in right now. I want you to faint, and do so spectacularly. There are no negotiations unless you truly want me to make you do something even more embarrassing. So you faint in three, two…."
"You will explain this," he says and then reels over in her arms.
"Someone call a medic! This prosecutor is too stressed by the proceedings!"
Neinheart repeatedly tells the team of medical professional that, "no, I do not lack oxygen. I do not have a history of seizures. And I am quite obviously not pregnant." And yet, despite his strong belief that he is in perfect condition for his age, the nurses and doctors still bombards him with questions and needles—oh, those dreaded needles. That is why, when Empress Aria shows up at the door to his room, he begs her to chase away the barrage of doctors.
"Empress, I am fairly certain it is a case of early dementia," deduces one doctor. "The progression cannot be stopped, so you must purchase a lifetime supply of snake tonic, preferably with cash."
"Don't listen to that quack," attacks the one in a cowboy hat. "What this here man needs is some love oil to revitalize his physique. I happen to know the recipe, but the ingredients cost a king, ahem, empress's ransom."
"Both of you are uneducated, ignorant fools. This man has nothing wrong with him!" screams a fellow intellect and chum of monocle eyewear. "The reason he fainted is because life-forms from the sky has been releasing mind-control magic! Fortunately, I know a great helm of aluminum which can counteract such powers." And then Neinheart buries his head into the palms of his hand.
"Um, you all have wonderful thoughts," starts Aria, trying to remain polite, "and I will be sure to consider each one. I would like to speak with my advisor for the time being, but you can certainly wait in the lobby." The outsiders grumble amongst themselves as they vacate the chamber.
Once alone, Aria teasingly suggests, "Unless that last doctor is correct, I will harbor a guess in thinking you are completely fine?"
"There is nothing wrong with me," he confirms, smoothing out the wrinkles in his silk bed sheets. "I suppose I owe you an explanation for this." He stops for about a minute to formula his thoughts. It is a very sensitive matter, one that he will damn himself should an unsavory fact is let slip. "That woman,"
"Detective Arin, or Inspector Arin, one or the other," Aria corrects just so she may sense his heart's reaction. It is beating quite fast—quite unusual for the usually cool advisor.
"Arin," he says slowly so that he may think at the same time, "Detective Arin was a former classmate of mines during my brief education at the Institute of Kathareena. She requested that I faint during the trial and so I did." His pulse skips only a beat.
"An old flame," remarks Aria, gasping in surprise, jumping to conclusions. "I did not know you have it in you." Neinheart opens his mouth in surprise like a dirty little secret had been discovered. He wants to refuse it—Ereve's advisor cannot afford people thinking him capable of love for anything but his country—but his heart and his blushing tells all. "Did you faint because you have…?" Aria holds his hand so she can listen to his heart better. "…feelings for her?"
The advisor squirms at the word. "It was only a simple request that I complied with, nothing more. I ask that you not intrude into my privacy." She pouts in such a way that reminds him of the embarrassing facts she revealed about her and Phantom. "I left her without a word, so naturally I—."
"Neinheart! How could you do such a thing to a lady?" Aria scolds and Neinheart cannot help but flinch. "As Empress, I hereby command you apologize the next time you see her. Also, arrange a date if possible, all expenses paid."
"I'm sorry, Empress—"
"Overruled."
"No, Aria. I cannot comply because it is a matter of Ereve's safety. She works for the Kathareena authorities which are controlled by Czar Von Leon. We absolutely must be weary of her and her motives, especially after today's demonstration. Please, I do not want to discuss her. The matter with Deneb and the trial is much more urgent. The Skaia remains missing and Luminous's fate is rather pressing."
Aria huffs. The pressure in the air seems to rise to an unnaturally uncomfortable level. "You have little need to worry over Deneb. The Skaia is confirmed to be in Freud possession so we only need to extract it from him. It will be difficult given his status as the defense for Vieren's murder. Our primary concern is ending this trial as decisively as possible."
"Have you noticed anything strange with the Alliance?"
"About their paying no care towards the trial? Yes, and it is troubling. With three of the four judges, they are the deciding factor to this trial and I fear they might have already reached a consensus. The question is what will benefit them more: Luminous's life or death?"
"He should still be in this hospital. It is time we pay a visit."
"Do not bother. He was moved to confinement and should I visit him, I relinquish my right to be a judge."
Neinheart does not react to this particular fact. He would expect as much if he is the one with the power to influence this trial. "We have no choice, then, but to investigate. I still have the case files. I'll guard it with my life."
"Refrain from such negativity, Advisor Neinheart. Your life is worth the safety of Ereve. We should retrace Luminous's steps so that we may get to the bottom of Vieren's murder."
Glimpse into the Past 5
Dear Selenes,
I am sorry to have to write this letter to you, and I hope that despite what grief I have brought you, you can find it in your heart to forgive me for everything. You have warned me about the dangers of leaving Elluel, but I do not regret it. You can call me insolent and brash, but it was my choice to leave behind my destined birthright in order to find the truth behind what happened three years ago.
My search for this truth had led me to a monastery in Kathareena and the famed Mr. Essin. I caught only a glimpse of the monster that had killed The Mercenary. He was a man—that much I am certain—but everything else remained invisible—his features, his height. I can only say that it felt a lot like he did not exist at all, and that I am looking at the invisible. He tried to kill me but Mr. Essin protected me, forfeiting his life. But at last, I too am wounded. The monster told me that I was dangerous because my omens will one day see the true future. I cannot know if I will ever see this future, but maybe when the future comes to pass, you can catch a glimpse into the past.
Anyways, I ask that you come to the monastery in Kathareena and inherit all the information I have. I know I am asking much for you. I am sorry for wounding your pride and the things I have said should have never left my mouth. There is no one I can trust but you. Please, find me and once more, I am very sorry for all the grief I caused you. And if you can, I would like for you to bring the seed of a fir tree with you.
Forever love you,
Aris
October 1
Saw an image of a woman. Could not see her clearly like I am staring at something invisible. Could she be the true form of the monster? Or is it a disguise? Why can I not see her?
She holds a box in her hands. From the texture, it is not woodwork, nor metalwork. The material could possibly be magic stones. It is very small, can be fit in a medium-sized pocket, and painted deep blue with yellow stars.
She is standing in a hallway right next to the fifth door. There is a number, three digits—
I just had a vision of my demise. It will be within minutes and—
Selenes, I do not have much time. I know you will grieve over my death but for how long I cannot tell. Please, you must not blame yourself for daring me to leave. I had pursued the monster out of my free will. This is the future I chose. Selenes, for my sake, please live out your life and do not feel burdened to live mines—
Present
A sweet smell of flowers comes from the delicate night breeze. To the restless Freud, it is a mysterious scent which has captured his senses. He immediately finds himself in a cross-legged position pondering the scent. A knock comes from his door and with a bit of surprise, Freud welcomes his nightly visitor.
"I would honor you with tea and biscuits but it is the dead of night," Freud needlessly explains, lighting the half-used candle sitting by the window. He closes the panes so that the scent cannot invade their private space.
"Do not worry over it," the guest says, shaking his head when Freud offers a seat. "I will be quick. I want to ask what you and Phantom were doing at the conference."
"Hmm? Oh, that," he remarks, as if he had forgotten about it. "I wanted to be part of the festivity. This is a historical moment and I would be very sorry if I missed a chance to see it in person. You can say I wanted to be history's witness. As for Phantom, well, I do not personally know him. But Mr. Buzzlebottoms came uninvited and after dinner, I told him he should leave."
"Then it's quite mysterious how when I interrogated Mr. Spiegelmann, he said he spotted Phantom stealing from The Judge during the magic show. Are you going to tell me that that is when you told him to leave?"
Freud guffaws. "You are not the first one to ask me that tonight. Detective Arin came by a minute ago and asked the exact same thing. It is true, Mr. Buzzlebottoms and Luminous were working together to obtain that so-called magic box. I was working as the middleman to unite the two, but I did not know about the murder until this morning should you believe I have had a hand in it."
"You do realize that this magic box is vital evidence to this trial and that Mr. Buzzlebottoms is quite likely the last one to have seen the box. Should you produce him, you can use the accomplice defense." The guest sends a sharp gaze into Freud's feeble soul as if he owes an explanation.
"You'd have to ask Luminous on this matter because he saw Mr. Buzzlebottoms last. I had a brief talk with him but I was immediately disbarred from doing so. The Alliance had relocated him to maximum confinement. It is as if they did not want us prying into this matter. Why do you think this is so? I'll tell you what I think. We are better off blissfully pretending to be attorneys."
"You sound quite eager. You do know what Ereve will do after the trial, correct?"
"I cannot produce the Skaia just yet. Arrest me if you must. That is not integral. What is integral is the decision of the trial. The future of Magcintus is held hostage, my friend. Will Empress Aria turn the tables or will the war end with The Judge's dying?"
The guest readjusts his monocle. "Goodbye, Freud."
Aran could not sleep tonight even though Maha is sound asleep on the chair. It is a cloudy night and Aran would not be surprised if an ominous windstorm buries the town with cold sand. Just the thought makes him parch, so he fumbles for a pitcher of water which he swears was on the desk the last time he saw it. He sweeps his hands over the many items he and Maha had over-packed and clutches the first object that feels like a clay pitcher.
And after Aran has set the object where it was, the resulting vibrations roll the round, cold, and blue stone off the desk. Maha's golden eyes fly open and in one motion, he scoops the stone into his hand and looks, with darkened expression, at the source of the disturbance. He sees not what he thought was there, and relaxes his tense shoulders. "Aran," he cries. "Is something wrong?"
"I needed some water, 'tis all," Aran nervously answers, tilting the pitcher for a hard sip so that it covers his obvious distress. Maha, not one to miss such a thing, presses Aran further until the boy has to ask, "Why did you tell me to not show the letter to the police. It sounds a lot like proof that The Judge was up to no good."
"That is precisely why you should never let this letter be shown to anyone," Maha answers sternly as if he had repeated the same thing on multiple occasions.
"That's not the real reason," Aran accuses. "The Maha I know would tell me to follow what I believe to be the right thing. And…I don't think this is right!" He looks away. "Mom and Athenas wouldn't want Luminous go to jail like this," he says with conviction, not knowing the irony in those words. Certainly, his sister would not harbor much hatred for Luminous, but Maple would. Maha does not blame her for hating The Judge and Luminous.
Before I was even born, my allegiance was to the Magcintus. Maha ponders. The Light has a role for me; it is my destiny to protect Magcintus. Please, Anya, you mustn't make me choose between the city and our child.
"This letter," Maha repeats, "would endanger Magcintus's reputation. You have to put your faith in The Judge. You are a soldier, are you not?"
"But he's not a good person, he was choking Mercedes!" Aran screams. "He had no reason to do that even if she attacked him. He was really going to kill her. Argh." The boy jumps into his bed.
A sound, much like someone twisting a locked doorknob, startles Aran. Maha leans his ghostly body through the wall, and then tells Aran that it is Detective Arin. They have never formally met, but both Aran and Maha have heard of her famous crime-solving exploits and her presence in Ossyria. "I'm sorry, Maha. I have to tell her about the letter," Aran says, taking the folded piece of paper from his desk.
"No, Aran, you must not!" he shouts. "This letter, it's—."
Glimpse into the Past 7
Very deep beneath the Elven palace is a room—a dungeon three floors below the earth where the garden grows, and guarded on all sides by a squad of ten Elven Guards. Mercedes sits on the opposite side of a stone table. A bowgun sits close to her, so close that she can pick it up, load it, and fire it straight at Arin's heart in less than five seconds. But that might not mean much, with the ring on her finger. That thing can kill in much less than a second.
"What do you want?" Arin asks, not wanting to go through some faux-formality. She does not feel betrayed that Mercedes would shut her inside the dungeons. Maybe it has to do with her unexplained absence from Elluel for the past couple of years. Or her relentless pursuit of Aris's omens which took away the one thing she can barely live without.
"I need you to help me solve a mystery," Mercedes reveals. Arin gauges her movements, from her reaching beneath the table for a box of documents to the way she shifts through them in utmost secrecy. When the moment is right, Arin easily confiscates the bowgun—and loads it.
"You never practiced with it before," Mercedes casually remarks as if that is the problem.
"I am betting this range is well within point blank. Oh please, you allowed me take it, Mercedes. Drop your surprise and get to the chase. This arrangement is not entirely pleasant," Arin says.
"I'd still like it if you'd put down my bowgun back. It is very dear to me and you will break it. I wouldn't want to threaten you, so please return it." Arin sides it over the table. "I have brought you here because I need you to look at this. It is a letter that once belonged to Elphias, and she took great pains to conceal it." Mercedes gives her an envelope and on top is the name Xavier printed in perfect cursive.
After reading it over, the first thing Arin can do is laugh at such nonsense. "It is a prank, nothing more."
"Read this next one." Mercedes gives her a second Xavier letter. The format is still the same; the tone is as formal as a business letter. Yet, the last few lines are incredibly personal and suggestive as if the writer knew certain secrets no one was supposed to know. As Arin goes through the beautiful handwriting, she can hear an eloquent whisper in her head, threatening her to…what exactly. It is always unclear. It simply states, "Ask the messenger, and s/he will confirm these facts."
"Who is this messenger, then?"
"We don't know," Mercedes says, finally sorting out all the letters into chronological order. There are at least twenty of them all dated weeks apart. "She killed all of them and a couple of others she felt was suspicious. Eventually the writer gave up."
"Then what do you know about the writer himself?"
"Only what the letters tell us. He is The Prince, Prince Xavier. According to what I can gather, he might very well be The Prince of the Alliance."
"Prince of the Alliance? That's only a myth sung by school children. You cannot seriously believe there is a secret hand behind formation of the Alliance."
Present
Knock. Knock.
"Who's there?" jokes Lizbeths. But Arin is in no mood for jokes.
"You there," Arin exclaims when a maid reveals herself from down the hall. She wears an Elven maid uniform so Arin automatically assume she is Calipheras. "Where is your queen?"
The maid humbles herself, and in mid-bow, her pig tails fly to the front of her head. Nervous, she pulls out a brush and starts fixing the loose strands. Her hair color is very unique—it is too purple to be white, but too white to be purple. Arin wants to deduce that it is the work of poison, but seeing as how she is a human subservient to the Elven Queen, Arin dares not assume.
"I haven't seen her since last night, madam. She's missing," the maid conveys.
"If you think that, then you ought to file a missing persons report."
"I tried to, but it seems Ossyria has a forty-eight hour policy. I can't file the report until tonight."
"What kind of stupid policy is that? The first forty-eight hours are essential to solving any case."
"Well, our city is centered on trade so people tend to disappear for a couple of hours," Lizbeths explains. "You know, to hit the entertainment districts."
"If the legal system here is so lacking, then I will have to add yet another case on my list," Arin replies, shaking her head in dismissal. "When was the last time you have seen her?"
The two women start a discussion as to the events of last night. Just as Aran has told her, Queen Mercedes met The Judge two nights ago in the dining room. Although the content of their conversation is largely unknown, the popular assumption is that they were negotiating a deal regarding the scandalous letters. This new information surprises Arin, in part because these letters were not reported found in The Judge's chamber or on his body. Instead, a Xavier letter was found. The scandalous letters and the box remain missing. It is as if the Xavier letter was meant to be found, left there by its shadowy writer as a reminder of his mockery.
"And Freud?" Arin asks, knowing that he is Mercedes's guest.
Calipheras relates to her the strange circumstance in which she had met the strange lawyer.
"May I see the queen's room?" asks Arin.
"Certainly, madam."
Calipheras opens the door for Arin and Lizbeths, but before the maid can enter herself, Arin shuts the door and locks it. "She might get the wrong idea," Lizbeths remarks nervously and Arin ignores him. She scans the room for Mercedes's presence, wanting to determine whether she is kidnapped or have secretly left during the chaos. The latter makes a lot of sense—with The Judge gone, her purpose is done, for better or worse.
"This Freud sounds rather barbaric, if you ask for my humble opinion," Lizbeths starts even though Arin never asked. "It sounds so very coincidental. First Freud appears. Then The Judge was murdered and now Queen Mercedes has gone missing. And what is that you told me? According to Spiegelmann, Freud was working with Mr. Buzzlebottoms and now Freud is Luminous's legal counsel. And what's more, the complicated international laws in place here—."
"If you want to find blame for The Judge's death, blame your poor ability to check the backgrounds of uninvited guests," says Arin while tossing the contents of Mercedes's drawers behind her back. She does not look at Lizbeths, but if she did, she would be treated to his furrowing eyebrows and inaudible growling. Instead, she finds Queen Mercedes's travel pass sitting underneath a set of regal nightwear. Then she continues her search.
"How is the Old Master's case coming along, then?" he quips, hoping to bite into her own incompetence. "You do remember that you were originally brought here for that, correct?"
Arin moves on to the bed, uncovering the sheets and looking below each pillow before bending down to examine the bed's underside. "There is no progress. I forgot all about that actually. Why don't you deliver me the file? I could possibly solve the whole affair in seconds if I wanted to."
"I ought to warn you, detective. The very best of Ossyria could not even begin to uncover this mystery." He slumps into a leather-bounded chair and spread his hands as if sitting on a throne. If Czar Leon ever needs a puppet, Arin muses, Lizbeths would make a perfect body double.
"A shame, then, that this new case supersedes the one involving Roshams. Now if you will excuse your feet a little, I am looking for something Mercedes cannot live…without…." She completes the last word slowly as she discovers something—a flat paper with white and black designs. It is lodged below the dustless drawer—it was placed there recently—so she has to move the whole thing just to reach it.
It is a playing card, the Ace of Spades and on it are drops of dried blood. "Mercedes," Arin whispers as if some tragedy has befallen her. "Quick, we must talk to Empress Aria."
When Neinheart returns to Empress Aria's chamber with a stack of books, he spots Detective Arin leaving the empress's room with a very sour expression. "What did Detective Arin want?" Neinheart asks after locking the door behind him. Aria spreads the books over her bed and skims through the titles with much discouragement. The law books are severely old and there is a grave chance that they are just as outdated.
"She suspects that we have hidden Queen Mercedes away," Aria half-heartedly says. "And now I know why Mercedes absolutely refused to allows us to inspect her room. Apparently she did not want us to discover Deneb's card." She points to her vanity and Neinheart gives a glance at the Ace of Spades, finding the drops of blood. "Detective Arin found it and I coaxed it out of her hands."
"This…" Neinheart starts and then stops. For whatever reason, Mercedes did not want either of them to know about Phantom's appearance in her room. It is puzzling but the most unnerving aspect of this are the secrets that Mercedes had been keeping away from them. Ever since the night of the dinner party, Neinheart had this thought that he and Aria are being used to fulfill some secret agenda. But in these trying times, Ereve is in great need of allies especially if… "We'll need to confront Mercedes about Phantom's whereabouts. For now, let's return to our primary concern."
Aria gives him wide and worried eyes but relents. "How was your search in the library? These titles do not seem fruitful."
"There is one law we can use to stop Luminous's execution. It is written under international law based on the temporary residency doctrines. If the accused is found guilty by Ossyria Law but not guilty by the law of their native country, they must be extradited for a trial in their native country. In theory this could work but if you ask for my opinion, I believe it is time to execute our alternate plan."
Aria groans. "Is it time that you need to gather more evidence? If so, I believe I can stall the trial for a little longer."
"I wish that was all I require. Magcintus law is not something readily available. They have a policy of importing foreign knowledge, but their secrets and the inner workings of their society are very well kept. If Magistrate Cahal had not left, we might still be able to resolve the issue. We are out of time. Come tomorrow, the Alliance would outvote you and execute Luminous. What do you say?"
"There is no other way then. But should our plan be discovered?"
"The Prince will make us pay for our crimes one way or another." He chuckles under his breath as he recalls Aria inauguration. That was a time when things were a little less complex. Something changed the both of them, though, and turning back at this point is only impossible. "These books I gather weren't of much use after all."
They look at one another in the eye and see their worry staring back at them. "Let's call in my bodyguards and we will coordinate our strategy for rescuing Luminous."
Glimpse of the Past 1
"What's the matter?" little Selenes asks when she enters a classroom occupied by no one other than her twin sister. Aris has her legs crossed beneath her desk, and her hands buried in her eyes. She raises her face and Selenes has to swallow in comprehension. She has such a sad look with her clenched lips and reddened cheeks. Selenes knows her sister had been crying, so whatever her pain may be, it must be crushing. "What's the matter?" Selenes asks again, touching Aris's shoulder.
Aris shoves a paper into Selenes's view and in neat red ink is the word, insubstantial. Selenes gasps out loud then buries the paper with the palms of her hand as if it would just disappear. "It's ok," Selenes affirms. "Mom and Dad—."
"Elder Philiums will hit me!" Aris screams. She cries and Selenes is suddenly caught in a moment where she cannot do anything at all but allow the precious tears to continue. She cannot ensure Aris's happiness and not being as gifted as her, she cannot understand the true extent of her suffering. For this moment, Selenes wishes she was born Aris so that she can take her future in her place.
"Let's switch," Selenes says, very softly at first. "I will be you. I'll show Elder Philiums your paper."
"He'll hit you," Aris cries.
"I'm fine as long as you are."
Glimpse of the Past 6
"Hey Aris," Selenes says to the fir tree before her. Although it blends very well with the surrounding trees of the Kathareena tundra, Selenes can never mistake this particular one. "I'm sorry that it has been so long since I've last visited you. I found someone. His name is Neinheart and he got me to love this world again." She sighs and then swallows her breath. The words she is about to say, if said last year, would be words she can never forgive. "I'm sorry but I just don't want to solve the mystery anymore. Whatever it was that you saw that day is not for me. Aris, I love you and I am truly sorry. Forgive me."
Selenes takes out Aris's journal and buries it in the snow. "Neinheart and I are getting married by the end of the year. Please, bless us as much as you can."
Present
Down three flights of stairs from the first floor of the police station is a Pit carved from stone. Very fine craftsmanship came into designing this Pit. The engineers argued for days on the size alone. Length, width, and depth must all be taken to careful consideration. The original plan called for three by one meter, but it was thought to be far too large. So it was shrunk until it was settled at two by one meter. The depth, likewise, began at a shallow half a meter before being raised to ten, making it impossible to traverse without a rope ladder.
At about half a meter up from the bottom is a metal grating. It is built with hinges which swiveled easily at first until age began to rust the bolts. Dirt also invaded this small alcove so that whenever the grating shook, a layer of dirt would fly into the air and resettle itself. Whether this was the engineers' intentions is unknown but the Alliance Guards are quite fond of this—because whenever it is time to torture Luminous, they can relish kicking a sliver a dirt into Luminous's mouth.
"Rise and shine!" the guard says, poking his spear beneath the metal grating until he hits meat. "You have two visitors!" He opens the grating and straps two hooks on each end of Luminous's cuffs. The guard gives a thumb's up to a second guard who turns the pulley until Luminous is suspended above the Pit's exit.
Advisor Neinheart almost throws up. Empress Aria, at first pensive, touches the wet scab stretching from Luminous's forehead down to his cheek and swallows the crushing despair she feels.
"I cannot accept this," Aria says, putting on a brave face. "This is torture." Luminous swings his eyes between the two figures, but the rest of his body is limp from pain.
"It is what people do to one another," Neinheart solemnly says. "They want to break him even before the trial is decided. It might be too late to save Magcintus." Nevertheless, he takes out his pocket-watch and pays close attention to the time.
A sudden voice spooks the advisor and empress. It is deep with phlegm and shaking with pain yet defiant and pathetic. Luminous says, "Do you really think such simple techniques can conquer the light's divine protection? Tell me what is it you want so that I may resume my sleep."
They did not know how to start so Empress Aria starts with the small questions she came prepared to ask, "We want to hear your perspective on Vieren's murder. We believe you are innocent and wish to prove that it is such."
"With this lowland system? Don't make me laugh. Magistrate Cahal is returning to Magcintus to bring me a proper trial. Prepare for retribution," Luminous scoffs, then spits away the redden stains on his teeth. He is in a much pitiful state, he admits, so he is convinced that only Magcintus can truly save him. "Tell me, what is currently happening outside?"
Aria does not want to deny what he wants. "It has been two days since you were confined to this cell. Your trial has commenced and we can only stall for so long before your execution tomorrow. I fear that, unless Magistrate Cahal has a dragon mount, he will not make it in time. You must tell us what happened the day of Vieren's murder. Please, Luminous, I've revoked my right to judge your trial for this conference."
"Very well, Empress, I'll entertain you. It is true that I had contact with Vieren shortly before his death. When I went into the auditorium, I heard that he has been assassinated but I knew there was a possibility that he had escaped through the trapdoor. I pursued…" He stops to cough. "I pursued him through a different entrance, and while running through the tunnels, I was attacked from behind. When I woke up, I was in one of the Guild House's many mess closets."
"This third person that attacked you could very well be involved with the murder and is the one trying to frame you. Do you have any recollection as to its identity?"
"I can think of one person. It was Freud's friend, the thief. His card was on my person."
"Where is the card now?" Aria asks with intensity, realizing too late that she is allowing her emotions to guide her questioning.
"The janitor might have picked it up. He was the one who found me in the closet."
"Yes, there was a report like that," Neinheart chimes in, making eye contact with Aria. "Empress, we should forget about the card. It is time for the fire to start."
"What fire?"
"A distraction so they we may rescue you from this prison."
"Wait a minute here!" screams the guard. "Did I—."
"Ice Beam," chants Aria, freezing the guard with a hidden wand beneath her robes. The guard in the pit starts climbing the rope ladder but Neinheart is quick to cut it down with a dagger. "Quick, are you able to walk?" Aria takes the guard's key and unlocks Luminous from his binds. He almost collapses onto the floor but manages to steady himself. The empress and advisor each clutch one of Luminous's arms and they leave the prison. The small force she had brought from Ereve proves effective and useful in clearing the escape route. Under the cover of darkness and fire, they flee into the crooked buildings of Ossyria.
"Where are you taking me?" Luminous asks, hobbling into a tight alleyway. The roads are ancient and unpaved with archways and stairs leading into the center of the earth. The path is so crooked yet uniform that without a guide, he would surely lose himself.
"We're bringing you to a safe location until we can transport you tomorrow morning," Neinheart explains, stopping besides one of the homes in the neighborhood. The curtains are drawn but a faint candlelight can be seen from the outside. On the door is a sign that reads: closed for inspection, from the Guild House Committee.
Aria did not expect to find Detective Arin inside being held on the ground by Mercedes.
"How did you find this place?" Aria groans, finding a wooden stool to sit on. Neinheart quickly sets Luminous over the table where he can rest and attend to the injuries.
"Come now, how else would your advisor hide my queen other than with a 'closed for inspection' sign?"
Aria looks to Neinheart for answers but he conveys that he does not understand Arin's words. "We want the truth, Detective. Are you sent here to kill Mercedes?"
"I suspected as much. I know who it was, her would-be assassin, but I'm not one of them. There was only one person who can freely walk through the halls and enter the queen's room without suspicion."
"You mean to say my servant?" Mercedes hisses, tightening her grip on Arin. "And I thought Elphias had purged all of the Prince's spies since the arrival of the letters. Or perhaps you are saying lies to confuse me? How did you find my location?"
"I wasn't the only one looking for you. While searching, the Alliance was also scurrying the streets, for as long as you were missing it seems. They knew, but they did not know where to look. But I did. This was one of the few places they would not suspect. It's not hard to put the pieces together once I realized your travel pass was left in your room but not your bowguns. Someone came for you, didn't they?"
"She is quite the detective," Aria comments. "But you must have thought more than that. Why would the Alliance of all people search for Mercedes for the last two days?"
"Politics, of course. I did not come here for this. I need to know the truth about my sister's murder. I have a letter that allegedly came from the magic box which my sister died trying to tell me about—the same letter my queen had shown me. The Prin—."
"Sorry to intrude, Arin," Neinheart says from the window, spying at the streets, "but we are surrounded." Aria moves to her advisor's side and says that there are about three squads of archers—the entire force that the Alliance had brought with them. "You brought them to us," Neinheart tells Arin with a mixture of worry and rage.
"I did not enter here last," Arin retorts. "Relax, they proba—." An arrow breaks through the window and would have struck Neinheart had Aria not pulled him to the ground. It is swift and deadly, so if it hit anyone, they would not feel a thing before dying. "They ought to layoff whoever—." A second shot comes through, shattering the remains of the window, spraying glass over the empress and her advisor. The volleys come faster; Mercedes flips the table over and brings everyone behind it. A stray shot catches her forearm but it is a minor fracture.
"They mean war with us," Mercedes says, loading her bowguns and retuning fire. The arrows come in waves at a time, most of them landing on the ground but some hitting the pots on the cupboards. One shot shatters a vase, spilling liquid over the ground and sending its flower in front of Mercedes. It is a snow rose, the symbol of sadness and misfortune. Luminous reaches for it, the shape and color of it reminding him of a girl he once loved but Neinheart holds him back.
"At this rate," Arin starts, "none of us—." The arrows stop.
"What exactly is going on here?" Luminous asks but is promptly ignored when someone enters through the front door. Mercedes looks out and her rage means that Arin had been correct about Calipheras.
"Speak and afterwards accept your treasonous death," Mercedes declares, pointing the bowguns at her maid. Calipheras has her eye on the ring on the queen's finger.
"You are still not adept at using Ishtar's Ring in a closed space," Calipheras says, "Too bad really or you might not have to accept my Prince's wishes. He wants to tell you that this show has gone on for quite enough and so it is about time to purge the threats to his rule."
"He, knowing that I have Ishtar's Ring, dares to go against me and with such a small force? I'd rather I myself live through this ordeal than allow you to purge both Elluel and Ereve."
The maid scrunches her eyebrows. "I think you are mistaken. The Prince only wishes for one person to die tonight. We want her," she motions for Arin. Mercedes gives Arin a suspicious glance but the detective is just as confused. They did not have to wait before Calipheras speaks once more, "The Prince thinks her power to look into the past is a threat. I don't understand it either but who am I to question her death?"
"More of a threat than the rulers of Elluel and Ereve?" Neinheart says in anger and disbelief. "Is this his idea of mocking us?"
"Don't diminish yourself. The armies of two countries come at a very close second. Come, let me wring her neck. You do not have to watch if it disturbs you." The Elven Queen loads her bowgun and keeps them pointed at the maid. "If I do not come out with at least her body, they have orders to open fire. You silly people are all doomed to die."
"If she presents such a threat, it is all the more reason to keep her alive," Neinheart reasons. "And there is—."
"The Prince," Calipheras raises her voice, "would like to remind you that he always keep his promises. And just so you know, I will punish those who fired at you tonight if it pleases you, my queen. The Prince does not tolerate hating between nations and that is why Vieren had to be crushed." The reminder of The Judge's untimely demise gives everyone pause.
Calipheras picks up the snow rose and spins it between her fingers. Then she plucks the petals one by one like a girl deciding whether to love someone or not.
"I have the right to choose my own fate, my queen, just like how Aris chose hers," Arin decides, her boots grinding against the shattered pot as she stands.
"No," call Neinheart, trying to catch her. "I cannot let you sacrifice yourself for me. Life would have no meaning if I cannot even—."
"That is rich," Arin says, deepening her voice. "If you cared so much, you should have never left Kathareena."
"I still owe you."
"Not since yesterday," she whispers, and then declares, "I allow it: my death." She steps in front of Mercedes's weapon. From this angle and distance, it is a straight shot into the heart. "Plant my fir tree next to Aris's." Mercedes gauges her accuracy. She has studied the anatomy of many beings so she knows there is a safe spot beneath the heart. It is her only chance to save Aris and herself so she does not hesitate…
What happens after this is a blur in history. Rumors say that Arin perished in a fire the day after. Some say it was earlier, assassinated while trying to protect Empress Aria. Still, other reports that she is very much alive hiding from those who seek her death. There is no use in speculating this future, because the event had already come to pass.
Epilogue: Five Months after the Ossyria Peace Conference
The gray stones against my back are very cold this time of the year. Shadows of passing snow drift across the opposing wall and I close my eyes to shut away my fear. It does not work so I reopen them and let the moving darkness bother me. I touch the back of the chair I am hiding behind, hoping that its sharp edges would distract me enough to focus.
The winter days of Kathareena are very cold and I huddle my fingers over another so that I can preserve the little warmth still left in my body. My mind moves to my brother, that man whom I hate with my very core. What right does he have to call me insolent when I am the one who bargained for his life? It is a stupid thing that he did, when after being freed and pardoned, he planned an assassination that would never work. Responsibility, he said. I loathe it. What good is order when dead? I much rather live in endless chaos and flexibility—without any rules other than the rules of nature: action—reaction—animals—that would be much easier.
When my brother chose responsibility as the conclusion to his soul, he doomed me to follow his shadow. I feel very much like a Shade in that regard. My brother lives only because I possess the same spirit that he does, which is exactly why I despise him so. He is manipulative. He talks about planting seeds a lot, and he planted this guilt within me as if it is somehow my fault that he had to perish. The situation makes so little sense that I must be missing something. Why would I want to be here?
What am I thinking?
I cannot read myself.
Forget it.
He's coming.
"Is this the head of the Elven Queen?" the shadow outside said, pulling off a sheet over a platter. His voice is solemn and disgusted at the sight so he immediately asks the servant to burn the body. The shadow returns to the room and sits in the chair in front of me.
I did not hesitate when I stick the skewer into his lower back and through his heart because I imagined this very image so many times. But I did not imagine what I will do afterwards. This is the error of the future which can only be seen as a construction of imagination. So I stay there, my hands clutching the murder weapon even when the blood drips over my hands. It is dirty and revolting but I do not know what else I can do.
It is the sound of his voice that breaks me. "It hurts—doesn't it—to have your brother hanged. But you must understand that our agreement called for a truce, yet he decided to stage my assassination. I really hoped that you would be a lot smarter than him," he says, pulling the pike out of his chest then throwing it to my feet. "Try again—as many times as you'd like until your hatred for me is satiated."
I could not believe my very ears. He is alive. "What are you?" I ask, my voice shaking.
"I am the Prince of the Alliance."
I turn to run and right after my first step, his arms grips me by the neck, lifting me off the ground. I reach my hands behind me, searching for his face, and finding the softness of his eye, I jam my thumb into it. I brush my fingers against his rough hair so that I can stick it further in, feeling mucus and blood and soft tissue. And then he tells me,
"I did not give you permission to leave."
Eunwol! Eunwol! She screams into my head. I'm coming, hang in there!
"No!" I struggle to say, the air in my lungs leaving me little by little. "Don't come! He'll—." The door bursts open and Lang, that pointy-eared fox-girl, stands there with eyes full of scorn.
"Let her go!" Lang screams. Her voice hurts my ears.
"You are the representative of the Animal Kingdom," the Prince remarks, tossing me into a wall. He heads for Lang, and I know there is nothing I can do to stop him. He grips Lang by the neck and twists it before I can even protest.
At that moment, I know I have to die. So with the last of my strength, I take the pike and rush it into my heart.
Epilogue: Prologue to Chapter: 6 (Six)
When I come to, I grab the nearest container, a jar of chocolate coins, and hurl the contents of my stomach into it. There is something vile in there, and I taste just how sour it can be to die once more. There is blood in my vomit and I know I should rush to the nearest doctor but I absolutely will not let my brother know. It is embarrassing. So I lay there, at the polished tiled ground, a jar of soiled chocolates lying besides me like a stuff pillow. There is a sweet and sour smell in the air that might ruin candy for me for the rest of this life. I have no concern. Everywhere burns.
A doorbell rings. "I'm right here," I cry, using the bars of a stool to keep myself up again.
"Do you have some lollipops?" the small girl asks in her sweet, accented voice. She is with someone else, a boy. It takes me a moment to identify them. She is The Witch's future apprentice. One day she will be forced to leave this city and after many years she will reappear at the center of a trial as a Lady Witness. The boy with her is despicable; The Witch will lovingly refer to him as Bearer Boy, not knowing that he will murder her.
"Yes," I tell them, handing them free samples. "Remember to brush your teeth or you'll get cavities." I check a calendar and according to the date, I have sixteen years until the Ossyrian Peace Conference and ten years before I turn thirty years old.
A/N: I would explain why this chapter took a while but I think the length speaks for itself. Sure, other authors churn out lengthy chapters like nothing and they are truly amazing. I, on the other hand, took my merry time to smooth out this chapter because it absolutely had to be perfect and satisfying following the cliffhanger. Several pages did not make the final draft (a funny scene with the stout magician), and half of the scenes were rewritten. This made it so that many characters were fleshed out (although still not enough) and tons of foreshadowing/referencing was hidden throughout the chapter. Try to spot them all!
For the next week or so, I'll upload the edits to previous chapters, including the timeline, so keep an eye out for that (or bookmark my profile for updates).
Next time, 6(Six), Eunwol! I totes did not forget about her (yes, her!)
Also, I'm writing an Eunwol one-shot as well, so check it out once I'm done!
