Blood thundered in my ears as I steadily approached the guards posted at Dunwall Tower. Resisting the urge to fumble with the hem of my jacket, I made an effort to walk in a dignified manner. I could distinctly recall the image of nobles strutting about with their heads held high, chins raised with an aura of dignity. I imagined I was raising my chin in much the same way, attempting to fake the aloofness of a richly spoiled young man. Of course, reality proved to be different, my feet stubbornly unable to walk a straight line. The guards looked me over with disinterest, used to the constant throng of people wanting to speak with the Empress herself.
"Identification, please." The closest guard halted me with a stern look.
I fumbled with the leather bag, the guard's eyes tracking my every move as I fished out the documents. I held the papers up between thin fingers, the burly brute taking them with a fast swipe of his hand, crumpling the delicate material under the force. Beady eyes scanned the contents, inspecting the family name as well as the authenticity of the paperwork.
"Alright Lord Lithon, state your business." The guard was rough as he pushed the paperwork against my chest, earning a small grunt. I grit my teeth and bit back the venomous words that begged to escape my throat, annoyed at his callousness.
"I've come to see the Empress." I spoke, deceptively calm and concise, searching the bag for the document pertaining the Empress's written permission.
The guard eyed me warily. "The Empress is a very busy woman; no one can speak with her unless they have an appointment plan signed by her hand," he spoke gruffly, a line he probably had to repeat over and over again each day, systematically rejecting the flock of people tirelessly attempting to be heard.
When I finally took hold of the document, I shoved it into the guard's face with a force equal to his, startling him with my impertinence. I could tell this had irritated the man, his sight suddenly deteriorating in the span of a few minutes, eyes squinting at the paper in dramatic fashion. He took his time reading, minutes passing and turning like the waves. I hated it; hated how I was forced to earn permission from a simple footman. Each step reminded me of my own mediocrity, my insignificance, in a world that dwarfed me with its size.
Grumbling, the guard returned the paper to me, sending me a cross look. "Alright, you may pass." his voice dripped with annoyance. "Pedro over here shall escort you directly to the Empress." He gestured to the other guard, who had already moved and now stood at my side.
"He's a 39A," he instructed my newly assigned guide.
Pedro nodded and gestured for me to follow, relieving the other man of my person.
He led me through the spacious courtyard, impressive pieces of architecture and marble statues laying scattered across the perimeter. Lush vegetation filled the air with a variation of scents, overwhelming me with their intensity, and the ever-rising sun warmed the atmosphere, turning the air hot and slightly sticky. The heat carried the smell of wet dirt and stone drifting from the pavement. I felt hot in my skin. Burning inside of myself.
After several checks, we were inside. The morning sun, accompanied by the flicker of candles, lit the hallways. Something was missing, but I couldn't quite recall what. It wasn't until we passed the skeleton of a wall of light that I noticed it wasn't operative, the usual tank of whale oil absent from the structure. The Empress had informed me the oil hadn't been functioning properly, how there had been problems... I had to wonder how big these problems actually were for the people to shut down their finest security measures. I could imagine the Empress's divided relief at the dysfunction of the walls of light. She'd always despised the inventions.
After some twists, turns and more endless hallways, the guard came to a stop in front of a dark door. Another guard stood stationed in front of it, his moustache and hair grey with age. "Got a 39A," my escort informed the guard.
"Identification?" the man in front of me demanded. Yet again I was fumbling with the bag, attempting to retrieve the right papers. I was acutely aware of the guards' eyes burning into me, feeling a vague itch. Pulling the documents from the bag at last, I handed them to him. They were inspected—again—before the guard handed them back over to me—again.
"Thank you Alexander, you may return to your post."
"Aye." The guards saluted each other before the one named Alexander turned and left.
"Alright Lord Lithon, the Empress is awaiting you in this room, if you would be so kind as to follow me," the old man requested, turning to open the large door behind him.
At those words my body suddenly sizzled and sparked with anticipation. This was it; would Corvo be there? My heartbeat had increased significantly, so I instinctively shoved my hands into my pockets to hide their slight trembling. I reluctantly followed as the man stepped inside, revealing a large and well-lit room. At its center stood a wooden table almost as big as the room itself. The ceiling was decorated with chandeliers and the windows framed by draperies, embroidered with the royal insignia. A number of people sat at the table, several nobles and a pair of unmistakable Overseers. At the head sat the Empress herself, flanked by her Royal Protector and Spymaster, Corvo Attano.
His eyes were the first to find me—standing lost in the doorway, feeling terribly out of place with my hands shoved into my pockets. I could sense him judging me as questions started to form on his face.
"Lord Melvil Lithon," the guard introduced me to the room. Corvo's stare sharpened, as did the Overseers'.
"Your highness," he continued, "I believe you have written for this man to be sent to you as soon as possible?"
I quickly looked at the Empress, the only bit of familiarity when all the eyes in the room found themselves staring at me; the strange newcomer.
"Indeed," she replied, coming to a dignified stand, chin raised in authority. She was the spitting image of her mother in that moment. "Gentlemen, it appears something rather urgent has come up; I suggest we continue this meeting at a later point in time, and I offer my sincerest apologies for the abrupt interruption." Her words were met with several protests, which she quickly cut off with no more than a sharp look at her audience. "Dear gentlemen, I assure you I wouldn't end this meeting unless it was of absolute necessity. Now, if you would please excuse us, we have important matters to discuss."
The men rose, nobles sending annoyed glances my way whilst mumbling bitter words amongst each other. I stared at the Overseers, their telltale masks strung at their waists. They stared right back, faces pulled into an assortment of annoyed grimaces. I caught the flicker of something in their eyes, and I had to work hard to maintain my mask of indifference.
These were men dedicated to the hatred of me, my very being despised. They could, and would, hurt me with no remorse. They were the angry contortions, the bitterness and contempt that had fuelled the loathing of my banishment. I knew exactly who these men were, their thoughts and wants; they were no heroes, no examples to the people. If only the people knew the hatred they had carried through life, the hatred they had redirected onto me. I had given them a purpose, an excuse to be the way they had always been. They had climbed the ranks together, finding an equal in each other. I had watched them bestow punishment on the innocent in the name of their beliefs. After all, hadn't it been most intrigueing to watch them carve and purge their way up into the council of an Empress?
As the group left the room in an organised line, the guard left with them, saluting the Empress one last time before returning to his post. The door closed, and the mood in the room shifted. I was highly aware of Corvo's unrelenting gaze burning into me.
"Alright Emily: what is this?" he asked. His gruff voice sent a rumble throughout the room, reverberating right through me.
The Empress turned to her father, face revealing her own uncertainty. "Father, there's someone I need you to meet…" she started, hesitantly looking my way. I stayed where I was, patiently waiting until I was instructed otherwise, and more than happy to remain at a secure distance. "An old friend," she added, sounding just as unsure of herself as she looked.
Corvo's eyes shot back to me, and suspicion painted his features. He'd see right through me. No amount of fine robes or light eyes could detract the man from the truth laid bare before him. He was a lot of things, but an idiot he was not. His eyes met a different pair now than they had in the Void, but the features were the same. Still, I was aware that my old gaze would not be so easily forgotten.
A terrible black on black.
"Emily..." Corvo started, moving to walk closer to me. He was tall—taller than I could recall. I could see the rough stubble on his cheeks, his greying hair—he looked weathered and worn by the years, turned inside out by the past. He studied me, roving eyes taking in my features. I felt small and frail, like a mere boy next to this hulk of a man.
"It can't be..." he mumbled, eyes searching mine.
"He's the Outsider," the Empress cut in, standing next to her father.
Corvo's eyes darted between the Empress and me. He looked shocked, surprised that his suspicions had turned out to be true. "How?" he asked, moving a bit closer. His warm breath caught in mine, musky scent overflowing my senses. I found myself backing away, craving distance, an uncontrollable desire to move burning in my feet. Corvo noticed this, brows rising like water and eyes sharp as knives.
"We don't know. I found him on the streets, bleeding," the Empress explained. Corvo seemed lost in thought.
"We?" he repeated, turning to his daughter.
I quickly cut in, drawing the attention back to me. "Bleeding from the eyes, bleeding from the heart. We all bleed, don't we Corvo? But who bleeds the most?"
Corvo's eyes rolled back to me, jaw clenched and nose scrunched. He looked at me until the meaning of my words dawned on him, eyes shooting back to the Empress.
"He's the cause of the whale oil problems." It was a statement.
The Empress looked at her father, a sad frown pulling at her lips. "I think he might be, I don't know..." She turned to me—hands held together as if her joined fingers might prevent everything from falling apart. "I found him dying. He doesn't know what happened but... There's something else as well." I saw Corvo's jaw clench with tension—this was all bad news to him.
"He's deteriorating..." she started, pausing a brief moment before finishing her sentence: "fast."
Hearing the Empress vocalise these concerns to another soul made them more real, the rhythmic beating of my heart and steady rush of blood now constant reminders of my mortality.
"If he dies, we might be facing bigger problems than the malfunctioning of whale oil," Corvo supplied.
"Exactly," the Empress spoke. "Which is why we need Anton Sokolov's help in figuring out a way to stall this process."
The Royal Protector continued staring me down. "And how do you intend to hide the Outsider from the world once Sokolov has his hands on him?"
"Simple," the Empress spoke, running her hands down her jacket, straightening the fabric. "I've given him a fake name, fake family, and a fake history. He's entered the tower from the main gate, presenting forged papers and further cementing the realness of his alibi by passing all the security checks."
Corvo didn't say anything; instead, he looked even grimmer than before. The Empress's eyes darted to me, trying to find some support. Corvo brushed back his hair with one hand, resting it on the back of his head. "You named him Melvil Lithon."
"I had to think fast," the Empress explained.
"Think fast?" Corvo grumbled. "Emily, you named him after the great leviathan! What were you thinking?" He pinched his nose before running his hand over his face. "You might as well have named him 'Out the Sider!'"
"Father," Emily cut in, stepping up to place a hand on her father's shoulder. "No one will bat an eye. As far as we know, no one even expects this to be possible—it'll only help make it appear as if his family was obsessed with the Outsider."
Corvo looked at his daughter, the lines on his face like deep cuts. They stared each other down, eyes hard and jaws set with defiance. At last Corvo broke the contact, sighing and shaking his head as his eyes dropped to the floor. "Alright," he spoke, arm lazily swung upwards in a half-hearted attempt to gesture at me. "But bringing him here was stupid either way."
"What else was I to do, Father?" The Empress raised her arms in frustration. "Leave him bleeding out in the streets?" She walked up to me, Corvo's eyes following his daughter. "Hide him someplace unsafe with no proper way to fend for himself?" She stood next to me, challenging her father with her hands on her hips. The heat that radiated off her body distracted me, burning into my skin through the thin material of my robes. "He's defenceless, Father," she spoke, but Corvo shook his head.
"He's the god of the Void, Emily. A pariah and a demon to the Abbey." A hint of anger tinged his voice.
The Empress looked away, teeth gnashing her lip in frustration. I stayed silent, like a faraway spectator—like I wasn't truly physically there but back in the Void again. Always alone. Always watching.
The mental and physical distance were both violently ripped from me as the Empress pulled my arm from its place, jerking me towards her father. Her hand wrapped around my arm in a vice-like grip, holding my slender limb in the air and effectively exposing my pale, twitching hand. My heart had sped up significantly, air raggedly entering and exiting my lungs in short gasps as a reaction to the unexpected assault. My eyes darted from the surprised Royal Protector to the Empress's stern face.
"He's human, Father: a living breathing person," the Empress bit out, eyebrows pulled into a harsh scowl. The Royal Protector stood in silence, watching his daughter and me in turns, eyes lingering on my startled form as I tried to calm my thundering heart. "And he's as much a victim as you and I once were." This seemed to strike a chord with her father, whose features softened at the words.
"Emily, you can't comp-"
"He's. Human." The Empress's grip on my arm loosened, features melting from harsh to pleading.
Corvo turned to look directly at me, eyes exploring mine. The Empress had ripped my carefully controlled composure—my only defence—away from me, and now I felt naked under his gaze. My soul was laid bare before him, and I couldn't find the strength in me to break the contact, to look away, to shut myself off from his prying gaze. So I stood, words of protest caught in my throat, arm still forced away from me.
Relief flooded me when he was the one to look away first, turning to inspect my outstretched hand. I saw several incomprehensible thoughts flicker behind his gaze, until finally he straightened his back and collected himself. Outstretching his hand as well, he reached for mine.
The Empress let go of my arm, and I was met with the rough texture of his skin, his hand engulfing mine with ease. Corvo glared at me, held my hand to confirm that I was indeed human. His thumb was placed over the inside of my wrist, awaiting my pulse. His eyes narrowed the moment I knew he felt it, keenly aware of the deep thrumming of my own heart. He let go then, muttering something under his breath. I was certain I could vaguely make out the word "asshole" amongst other insults.
He threw an annoyed look over his shoulder, directly at the Empress before walking up to one of the tall windows. "So, what do we do next?" he asked, voice gruff.
The Empress quickly glanced at me before facing her father's turned back. "We need Anton Sokolov. Our priority is to figure out if we can buy ourselves more time." She walked back to her spot at the table, taking a seat, gesturing for me to sit as well. "I need you to fetch him for me, Father," the Empress spoke without looking at him. I walked up to the nearest chair and sat down, legs thankful for the relief. "After we've secured our deal with Sokolov, we can start focusing on why the Outsider is here and how we fix whatever's been altered by his absence, including the whale oil problem."
The Royal Protector nodded at her words, hands clasped behind his back and gaze following the ships that sailed by in the distance. "I assume I'd better fetch him right now, then?" His baritone voice rumbled across the room.
The Empress looked at me, eyes searching my face before answering her father. "Time is of the essence."
The Royal Protector accepted her words with a single grunt, making his way towards the exit. He paused next to me for a brief moment, eyes looking down on my form, before continuing.
I was left with the Empress, who let out a heavy sigh once the door closed. I watched her as she ungracefully slumped in her chair, certain that Callista would have berated her for such poor manners. Her delicate hand traveled towards her face and brushed some stray hairs aside, movements not as controlled as they had been the day before. She looked exhausted. Her eyes turned to the window where her father had stood, the light reflected in her dark orbs and accentuating the sharp angles of her aristocratic face.
"He was angry with me." She broke the silence. I remained quiet, awaiting her next words. She didn't continue right away, choosing to inspect her obsessively manicured nails. When she concluded that there was nothing of interest to find, she let her hand drop to the table, fingers drumming on the polished surface. Her eyes met mine before she spoke again. "I never told him about my powers—your Mark." She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table and face held in her hands. "After discovering they were gone... I knew I had to tell him." She turned to inspect the hand where the Mark had been. "I had felt ashamed. Weak, even, for accepting such a dark gift so easily. My father had always taught me to be good, to be just and fair. But here I was, willingly submerging myself into the darkness of this world without a second thought. Even after all I'd seen, after everything Delilah had done…"
I listened intently, silently observing her many expressions: the subtle ways her face and eyes changed with each word and passing emotion. My back was straight against the chair, hands placed on top of the table.
The Empress licked her lips, eyes darting from her hands to mine. "He surprised me then." Her mouth twitched into a brief smile. I felt myself almost mirroring the action. "He wasn't angry at me for accepting your Mark, not at all." I noticed the way she fidgeted with her signet ring—the key to her Safe Room—as she spoke of her father. "He was angry because I hadn't trusted him enough to confide in." She paused, a sharp intake of breath causing her chest to rise beneath her jacket, the fabric stretching across her form. "I felt incredibly upset with myself then. Not for accepting the darkness, but for disappointing the person I love the most." The Empress's gaze locked with mine, and I felt like I should say something, anything. It was the appropriate thing to do. But showing sympathy had never been my forte. Words of comfort were a foreign concept to me.
Instead, I wanted to reach out—to touch the hand that had once been Marked. To trace the pattern that was now absent from her skin, to feel the place where I had and hadn't existed at the same time. My eyes traveled towards the limb on their own accord, curiously searching the exposed skin. I recalled the way Corvo's had scratched against my own, a rough and unpleasant sensation. It had been so long since I had experienced human touch. It intrigued me.
And that intrigue set the foundation of a new kind of hunger that was rapidly growing within me, churning in my insides. My lips parted and my tongue darted out to wet them, thoughts thrumming through my mind. I noticed the Empress studying me, my eyes shooting up to meet her gaze. The air crackled, sensations overpowering my senses, my mind. I could see the curiosity that danced in her eyes, the wonder that set them alight. It was the same look she wore when watching the whales.
A sharp knock interrupted the moment.
Both turning to the swinging door in unison, we were met with her father's stern visage followed by an old and measly-looking Sokolov.
"This had better be good Corvo, I have other pressing matters at hand," the old man growled, greying beard soaking up some of the noise. His wrinkled face was pulled into a scowl, feet shuffling to support his rickety frame. He came to a stop and searched the room, eyes locking with mine in a matter of seconds. "What's this?" he asked indignantly, bony hand directed my way.
The Royal Protector came to stand next to the old man, nodding at the Empress before speaking. "The Empress herself has given direct orders for your summoning," he explained curtly, hands clasped behind his back.
The old man's gaze snapped to the Empress, eyebrows raised in a slightly surprised scowl. "Emily dear, I do hope this is worth interrupting my current work here?" he asked, folding his arms in front of him.
The Empress stood from her seated position to greet the man as an equal, a polite smile adorning her face. "Of course, I would not dare summon you if it wasn't of the utmost importance, I assure you."
Sokolov nodded appreciatively at her words.
"I believe I have someone of significant interest to you, someone who might even be able to help with your current investigation into the whale oil problem," she spoke diplomatically, her face a neutral mask.
Sokolov managed to look even more surprised whilst maintaining his scowl. "Well do continue child," he urged the Empress, taking a step closer as his eyes narrowed at me with interest.
I struggled to maintain my calm as I attempted to ignore the man's greedy gaze, drinking in my features. I had never appeared to this man for good reason; I wasn't very keen on meeting him now. The lengths he'd gone to in an attempt to summon me were worth no praise in my eyes, but I figured he'd have to be at least half as mad as he was genius in order to make as much scientific progress as he had. Two faces of the same coin.
The Empress gestured for Sokolov to sit down, and he grouchily did her bidding, choosing to sit directly across from me whilst his gaze stayed glued to my being. The Royal Protector returned to his place next to the Empress, gaze also locked on me in a suspicious stare.
"This is Melvil Lithon. He's sailed from Whitecliff, in search of a… solution." She handed some paperwork to Sokolov who eagerly took it from her, eyes pouring over the writings.
I surveyed the old man, finally relieved of his unrelenting focus. I wondered if I'd look just as ragged in a few weeks, hair either white or gone. My face would be like the cliffs surrounding the tower: sharp edges and deep cracks. I'd grow stiff, joints creaking and movements jolted. My breath would be in short supply, smothered by my bodily decay. Perhaps I wouldn't even be able to walk anymore—not that I'd miss it. I recalled Granny Rags; once the lustrous Vera Moray, until time slowly chipped away more and more pieces of her beauty and her mind alike.
Sokolov's eyes shot back up at me—lips pursed and expression intense. They flicked between the paper and me as if acutely checking what was written. "I want to see it," he rasped directly at the Empress, who remained calm under the pressure of his demand.
She turned to me: a silent order. I knew exactly what the old man desired, his unrelenting obsession highly predictable. I reached into my bag, feeling around the bottom for the vial that had been filled with my blood. A loaded silence filled the room, the air heavy with the weight of anticipation. Slowly—carefully—I retrieved the vial. In my pale fingers I held the same glass container I'd been handed that morning, but what had once been my blood—a vibrant red—was now a deep black, the substance having turned thick and sluggish.
Sokolov held his breath, bending forward and almost climbing the table in his readiness to see this strange liquid. His eyes were steadily fixed on the vial, forming themselves into thin slits. "Interesting," he mused.
I glanced at the Empress, but she seemed as surprised as I was.
Bony fingers snatched the vial from my hold, bringing it closer to Sokolov's face. The old man tilted it a few times, watching the liquid slosh in its container. Then he took hold of the lid, removing it with delicate care. Cautiously pouring a drop onto his skin, he rubbed it in between his thumb and index finger. Watching with great interest, he pursed his lips before bringing the opened vial to his ear. It appeared he was listening intently, moving the object this way and that for better reception until at last he closed it again, pocketing the black liquid in his robe.
All eyes were on him, and all remained silent. He rested his elbows on top of the table, and held his hands in front of him, fingertips touching. "It echoes with old magic," his voice rasped as his eyes darted to me. "It is indeed a rare artefact; if your story checks out, it might even be genuine." It felt like a small subconscious weight had been lifted off my shoulders with the physician's approval. "How long have you been... ill?" the old man asked.
I found myself straightening as an automatic response, swallowing first to prepare my dry throat before speaking. "A few days."
Sokolov's eyebrows shot up. "A few days?" he asked incredulously. "How would you even know?"
I wasn't sure of what to say—this hadn't been my plan nor my idea. I noticed Corvo watching with barely concealed interest.
"Peculiar that you noticed this... ailment as fast as you did. Fast enough to write the Empress about it, get her approval, and travel here."
It was the Empress who cut in then.
"He had other symptoms, his father wrote right away," she assured the physician.
Sokolov didn't look away from me, face unreadable.
"Well I've never heard of your family, and more importantly..." his eyes narrowed, "I've never seen a person in the whole of the Isles with such well preserved ancient physical traits as yours."
I clenched my teeth, annoyed by the man's questions but otherwise preserving my calm demeanour. "I doubt you would know the whole of Gristol, sir, residing in that lab of yours so often—however, I assure you I share many of your concerns," I bluffed smoothly.
The physician's expression didn't change. "I'm sure you do," he grumbled, returning the stack of papers to the Empress and breaking eye contact with me. "I'll do it." he spoke directly to her, ignoring the other participants in the room.
"Thank you, Anton," she replied kindly.
"Yes, yes—I owe you." He waved his bony hand. "Now if you'll excuse me, I didn't interrupt my travels for some senseless nanty narking; I must return to my research." The Royal Physician rigidly stood from his chair, back crooked and unstable. "I suggest we further discuss this issue as soon as this afternoon." He turned to bow at the Empress, her Royal Protector, and lastly me—gaze delving deep into mine, studying my reaction. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Melanie," he spoke offhandedly, immediately turning to leave after his obviously intentional error.
I glared daggers at the man's back, imagining his rickety frame snapping under my gaze, all too aware I no longer possessed any magical abilities. As the door clicked shut the Royal Protector let out a heavy sign, drawing my focus his way.
"You got lucky." He pointed fingers at the Empress and me as he spoke. "Both of you." His eyes darted between us, both remaining silent.
He was right of course. Sokolov was a hard man to fool, and I even doubted he'd been fooled at all. He knew the story had been forged and he suspected I wasn't who I said I was. I wasn't certain if he also recognised me as the Outsider, but since I'd never appeared to him directly, and his portraits had been based on the retellings of others, I gambled he hadn't. Yet.
Corvo walked up to me then, gesturing for me to stand as he did. "You heard what Sokolov said, I'll show you to your chambers in the meantime."
My eyes shot to the Empress who was staring straight ahead, not paying attention to either of us. Slowly I stood—the chair awkwardly scraping the floor, which pulled the Empress from her thoughts.
"Are you two leaving?" she inquired, eyes darting from me to her father.
Corvo nodded, reaching to put a guiding hand on my shoulder. I felt my joints sink under the heavy weight, tendons stretching and pulling at the bones. "We'll meet in the dining room for lunch. In the meantime I'll show little 'Melanie' here to his room."
The Empress's eyes popped as she unsuccessfully tried to hide the amusement from her features, quickly gesturing for us to go ahead as she slumped down in her chair once more, thin fingers tracing circles against her temple.
Corvo turned then, roughly slapping my shoulder once to disengage me from whatever was happening, hand pushing me towards the exit of the room. Whatever I was about to say died on my lips, and I threw a last glance at the Empress as Corvo shut the door behind us.
He continued pushing me forward through the many hallways, hand squeezing my shoulder far harder than was necessary. My arm prickled from the force, hand slowly becoming numb. I refused to reveal any of this to Corvo, stoically marching on. My features were set in a calm expression, and my back was kept stubbornly straight under the pressure of his heavy hand.
"I can't believe you're just a kid." Corvo's voice vibrated through the silence. My eyes flitted to his face, only to find he was watching me as we walked.
"You were how old again, Corvo? Seems like a century ago when I first visited you in that run-down pub. How time flies." I felt the pressure on my shoulder increase at my words. My amusement was short-lived, as I was roughly pushed around a corner, my poor motor skills causing me to stumble along. Corvo pulled at the fabric of my robes to prevent me from falling, dragging me further down the hall.
"You Marked my daughter," he stated suddenly, and I was caught off guard for a moment; the subject surprised me, although it shouldn't have.
"As I Marked you all those years ago."
He halted his walk, facing me down. His hand had been momentarily removed from my shoulder, and I was thankful for the relief.
"Why?" he asked, eyes never leaving mine "Why help clean up a mess you enabled?" Anger seeped into his voice now.
I cocked my head as I watched how it contorted his features, deepening the shadows that had been etched into his skin by years of unspoken hurt.
"I had many reasons for Marking certain people, Corvo. Beggars, assassins, aristocrats and sometimes… even Empresses," I spoke calmly. Corvo's scowl deepened, but I didn't shy away from his gaze. "I never chose whatever fate befell the people of this world, nor did I ever have the power to change the world itself."
Corvo stepped back as his eyes darkened. He glanced at the floor, the expensive blue carpet that covered the wood—worn down at places by countless passing feet. Nothing ever remained without blemish. He appeared to be processing my words as he brushed a hand through his short hair, putting it into further disarray. I noticed how his shoulders had slumped, no longer rigid with pent up fury.
I quietly observed him, hands clasped behind my back as I pushed my ritual rings up and down my thin fingers. Our interactions had been sparse; I'd only spoken to him at shrines or during dreams. I had shared my observations—merely commenting on whatever paths he had chosen. He had never asked me why I did what I did: why I had chosen him or why I said the things I said. He had accepted it all, accepted that this was how his life had turned out and that he'd need to do extraordinary things in order to take back what had been cruelly taken from him. He had used my gifts effectively and mercifully, and I had watched him do so with great interest.
Now that I was mortal again, I found that things had changed—my reality had shifted—and somewhere deep inside of me I actually longed for something I could not quite put into words. But just as indescribable as it was, I also knew it was impossible. Corvo didn't know I had seen the possible futures, had gazed upon a burning world. Perhaps it wasn't that I had cared too little, but that I had cared too much—for once. I also knew the human need for a scapegoat all too well, an easy way to relieve their suffering.
"In the end, you can't fix what's inherently broken, so you might as well bask in the rot."
Corvo's eyes shot to my face; shock marred his features. Tension pulled at the corners of his mouth, his gaze unreadable as he stared straight at me. I noticed how his jaw clenched with anger. Good.
"If that's so, then why even meddle at all?" he questioned, voice low, loaded with warning.
I hesitated with my answer, thinking about his words first—the implications left between the lines. I wasn't keen on opening up to the man in front of me, or anyone else for that matter. My reasons were only for me to understand. So I went the easy route, the explanation that best served its purpose.
"Curiosity." This would have angered most people—the uncaring god playing chess with the lives of the downtrodden out of sheer boredom—but he surprised me when his features didn't so much as twitch. He watched me in silence, mind most likely processing the things I'd told him. The half-truths and non-answers I'd supplied. He knew there was more behind it; I could see it in the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
Then, without warning, his warm hand landed on my shoulder once more, pushing me back into motion. I stumbled forward, confused. My eyes darted across Corvo's face, but his stare remained focused straight ahead, ignoring my imploring looks. We walked faster now, my feet having a hard time keeping up without tripping over themselves.
When we reached the end of the hallway we took a few more turns, and at last came to a stop in front of a large door. The Royal Protector turned to face me, hand traveling to the knob and turning it. He gestured for me to enter, and I did so reluctantly, shooting him a suspicious look. The room was grand, much like the Empress's. There was an adjoining bathroom, and more windows decorated the panelled walls. On the far left stood a bed covered in thick pillows and a royal blue spread. The Royal Protector stood an arm's length away, observing me with his hands behind his back.
Having inspected the room, my eyes returned to his in a silent stare down. He didn't move a muscle. I noted how his eyes and skin were darker than the Empress's, rich colours that betrayed his Serkonan descent. I waited for him to speak again, remaining taciturn with my words. He appeared to take notice, a wistful smile adorning his face as he stepped around me, gaze traveling across the room.
"There were so many things I had wanted to ask you," he started, inspecting some ornaments that rested on a nearby table. "Questions that haunted me—the burning desire to understand why you did all you had done." He continued his pacing, stare traveling to the large windows across the room. "The things you told me at your shrines…" He paused, turning to look at me, my face composed into an unreadable mask as a plethora of emotions coursed through me. "...The things you might have told my daughter all those years ago..."
My eyebrows rose in curiosity, interested where this conversation was headed.
"...The things you told her a few months back." Corvo stopped his pacing, back to me. He looked to his side, gaze clouded over as he stared at an empty spot in the room. I wondered what he was thinking, what he was hoping to gain by telling me these things. "Never did I consider you to be one of us. Just a person."
The cold surface of my rings cooled the tips of my fingers as I twisted them, comforting me. I cocked my head as I waited for him to continue what he was saying, but he never elaborated.
"I'll leave you to wind out for a bit. Lunch will be served in an hour. I assume you need to eat now. You'll be joining us in the royal dining room, located in the far east wing of the building." His directions were vague, and I had a feeling that was intentional.
He headed for the door, passing me without meeting my gaze. I watched him as he halted in the entrance, turning to look me up and down one more time, dark eyes locking with mine for a moment. And with that he exited, closing the heavy door behind him.
I was late.
I'd been lost like a fool, walking in circles through the tower's endless corridors. One didn't need the power of vague premonition to predict I'd be an idiot at navigation. I had a nagging suspicion that Corvo hadn't given me any further directions on purpose, testing to see how well I knew their home. Several guards sent me strange looks as I passed them yet again, not used to nobles from faraway countries wandering around, lost and unaccompanied. I refused to ask them for directions; my senseless ego would not allow it. Thus I wandered on, thankful that none of them interfered as I did so.
When I found my destination at last, I was met with a cocky looking Corvo and a surprised Empress sending quick, questioning glances at her father. Lunch had already been served, but they had patiently waited for me to join them. I sat down in the only empty chair available, seated across from Corvo and to the left of the Empress—who occupied the head of the large table. I didn't say anything; waiting for them to initiate the conversation, stubbornly intertwining my fingers in front of my lips, elbows resting on top of the table.
Corvo was the first to break the silence, chuckling to himself. "You'd think of all people, you would know the way."
I glared at the man, refusing to take the bait. The Empress let out a half-suppressed laugh from my side, clearly amused by her father's words. My gaze flitted to her—her eyes alight with amusement. When I looked back to the man sitting in front of me, I noticed his raised brows, hands clasped neatly in front of him.
"For a youth, you don't seem very defiant," he noted.
"And for an old man, you don't seem very wise."
The Empress's eyes widened, and a hand shot up to cover her mouth in an attempt to hide her amusement. Her failure was made apparent by her shaking shoulders and the glare her father sent her. I couldn't recall ever making someone laugh, but I enjoyed the pride that came with the accomplishment. Corvo coughed once, interrupting my thoughts as he took the lids off the plates, revealing a variety of foods that lay beneath.
He motioned for us to start eating, generously filling his own plate as an example. I was reluctant, only taking a few small pieces. My gaze darted to the Empress, who's slender fingers were wrapped around her silverware; even Corvo ate with a controlled elegance that made it hard to believe he'd been swallowing live rats just over a decade ago.
Just my luck, eating amongst royals.
I felt self-conscious, unaware of the rules of proper etiquette. My plate was surrounded by a variety of cutlery, all in differing sizes. I noticed that my company each used the same set: the outermost pieces. I reluctantly lifted mine from the table, using the utensils to sloppily cut into a piece of soft bread. Carefully bringing the food to my mouth, I chewed it slowly. The sweetness spilled across my tongue, but I found myself unable to enjoy it.
The changing lights filtered through glass panels, and the rays of the sun warmed my pale skin. I could smell the Empress from where I sat, the overly sweet scent of her perfume wafting through the warm air—distracting me. My eyes were drawn to her poised form, her knife cutting into an exotic piece of fruit. She noticed I was watching her, but before she could direct her attention to me I diverted my eyes.
"So, how do you enjoy the human experience?" Corvo asked.
I ignored his imploring look, choosing to continue staring at my plate instead. Crumbs covered the thin porcelain, marring its spotless surface. Like birthmarks on smooth, pale skin. "It's alright," I answered, disinterested in the topic.
"You should eat more; you're a growing boy after all," Corvo continued.
"Father!" the Empress protested. I found myself looking at her again, sharp features contorted into an angry glare, drawing smooth lines into rough edges. Her eyes met mine for a brief second and the light in the room felt too bright.
"I'm not that hungry," I told the Royal Protector, meeting his gaze at last. He was looking at me strangely, eyes unreadable. I didn't like the fleeting thoughts that teased me in their dark depths.
A frown further etched deep grooves on his forehead. Without saying anything, he moved to add more food to my plate, carefully placing it atop the smooth surface. My eyes followed the motions, watching the breads and fruits pile up in front of me. The Empress didn't say anything about it, observing her father wordlessly instead. Corvo's eyes pulled mine to meet his stern gaze.
"I'm serious. You look skinny enough as is. You'll need as much energy as possible to help you endure whatever Sokolov's got planned for you."
"He's right," the Empress added, only to be silenced by the Royal Protector.
"Emily darling, would you mind excusing us?" His tone was gentle, but serious nonetheless.
The Empress looked as if she might protest, but seemingly decided against it after her father sent her one more look. A look I didn't recognise. She sighed as she stood from her chair, neatly placing the silverware back onto the table.
She left us quietly, robes bouncing with each step, meal unfinished. Corvo looked at me tensely, dark eyes never leaving my form. I had no idea what to expect next, but whatever it was, I wasn't very keen on the prospect. I silently poked at a piece of bread, crumbling it up into smaller pieces as I waited for the Royal Protector to speak again. Corvo let out a heavy sigh, brushing back his salt and pepper hair. I watched his face display a myriad of emotions, each of them passing too quickly for me to catch.
"Listen," he started.
I sat uncomfortably—too aware of myself and the chair.
"There's a good chance Sokolov is going to see right through you. The man's a genius."
I started on my next piece.
"You're going to have to be as sharp and careful as you can..." Corvo stayed silent for a beat, but I could see the muscles in his jaw move. "If not for the empire, then for Emily and me."
My eyes shot up to the Royal Protector, surprised at his words. He looked at me seriously, brows raised in question. I felt the urge to look at the door the Empress had just exited from, wondering why she'd been asked to leave in the first place. A warm hand came up to wrap around my arm, holding me carefully and drawing my attention back to the Royal Protector. I wet my lips, a sense of unease weighing upon me.
"I already promised," I stated, feeling far away.
Corvo nodded. His hand withdrew as he sat back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest. "Then get your shit together and focus." I sent the man an incredulous look, but he raised his hand, silencing whatever was about to fly from my mouth. "Eat." With that the Royal Protector stood, taking the Empress's plate with him. "You have about 15 minutes before you'll be meeting with Sokolov. Think about what I said." Exiting the room, he left me with a plate full of crumbled bread. I sat there in silence, dejectedly staring at the pile in front of me.
"Ready to go?" Corvo asked gruffly, having returned only moments ago.
I sent him a single nod, which he returned before leading the way, allowing me to follow of my own volition this time. I fell into step with him, finding it easier to maintain my balance the more I moved. He led me through a different part of the tower, a part that felt older. Echoes of forgotten times whispered from the walls here.
Hushed laughter; a lovers' escape.
I looked at Corvo's back, straight posture betraying nothing of his thoughts. He walked in a balanced line, feet and eyes never straying from their path. We passed a large fireplace, its stone structure ascending through the ceiling—we both knew what lay hidden beyond. Descending a number of stairs, Corvo led me through the deepest parts of the tower; the underbelly that breathed and thrummed where industrial pipes traversed the space between walls. I knew where he would take me, the whispers of magic long gone pulsating around us. Descending a final set of stairs, I found myself in the executioner's basement.
Tables stood covered with scientific equipment, filling the room to the point that it was hard to recognise. Bright lights now hung from the steel beams, powered by machines that stood lined up at the far left of the room. Sokolov stood between them, all buzzing with power. Thick clouds of steam escaped the metal structures, a heavy mist permanently curling against the ceiling. The air had an unpleasant feel to it: cold and clammy, with a strange metallic taste.
Like old blood.
Corvo silently stood at my side, waiting for the Royal Physician to take notice. He did, putting his utensils down on a nearby table and wobbling up to us shortly after. His eyes were as sharp as they had been this morning, the eerie glow cast by the lights bouncing off his wrinkled features. His gaze was glued to me, sending me a look that sent chills down my back.
"Hello Corvo," he greeted the Royal Protector without looking away from me.
"Sokolov." Corvo acknowledged the man, not moving from his spot.
"First things first," the old man started, skeletal fingers plucking at my blue robes. "Take those off."
I glanced at Corvo, but his eyes remained focused on Sokolov. Reluctantly, I did as the man demanded. My long fingers worked at the material of my clothes, carefully loosening the straps and buttons. Layer by layer, I removed the top part until I was left in nothing but my pants and the bandages covering my stomach. Sokolov watched me intently, critically observing my movements. As the last piece of fabric left my skin, his sharp eyes narrowed.
"You're too skinny for a noble." He shook his head at my protruding bones, analysing eyes studying the bandages covering my abdomen. Walking up to study me closer, he motioned for me to step into a nearby light. His hands pulled at the white material, removing it with practiced skill, revealing two nasty-looking wounds beneath. The gashes looked nauseating, and I was certain they weren't supposed to look like this after a few days. The surrounding skin was discoloured, bruised in dark patches.
"Where'd you get this?" Sokolov asked, fingers poking and prodding at the injury. I flinched as he hit a tender spot, sharp pain overriding all my other senses.
"Accident," I bit out through the pain, voice strained.
Sokolov hummed in response, brows raised skeptically. "Well the stitch-work is rather sloppy. No rich family would hire a doctor this bad."
I clenched my teeth in annoyance, fighting to stay sharp like Corvo had urged me to. "There was no time to bring me to a doctor, I had to be stitched up on the spot."
Sokolov hummed again, moving away to retrieve some utensils from a nearby table.
A silver scalp dug into the skin surrounding the wound, a sharp and searing pain shooting through me as Sokolov cut away a piece. Fresh, red blood seeped from the cut. Bright flashes filled my vision as my stomach lurched inside of me, causing me to almost topple over, swallowing whatever sounds had wanted to escape my throat. A warm hand steadied me and, as I turned to look at the owner, I was met with Corvo's worried features. I wanted to push him off—show him I didn't need the help—but as a bead of sweat traveled down my neck, causing me to shiver, I felt my head start to spin. I watched with unfocused vision as Sokolov put the piece of skin between two shards of thin glass, carefully sliding them underneath a microscope. He took his time studying the piece, mumbling to himself as he did. He scribbled down several words on a nearby notepad, scratching through some of them and writing new ones instead. At last he turned around, a grave look pulling his lips in a straight line. His eyes darted from me to Corvo, fingers wrapped around the notepad.
"The sample I just cut away from your body has reached the first stage of rigor mortis." His rasping voice cut through the damp atmosphere, chilling the air even further with his words. I felt Corvo's grip increase, warm hand wrapped tightly around my thin arm.
"What does that even mean?" His deep voice broke, worry lacing his tones. I glanced at the man next to me, surprised.
Sokolov stood, curved back straining to remain balanced. His knuckles turned white as he tightly held on to the back of his chair for support. His blue eyes locked onto mine, telling me the truth before his words did.
"It means you should be dead."