A/N: Enter Resmond. Be sure to share your thoughts, loyal readers. ;)
Chapter 51: The King
The stone balcony overlooked the inside of the spiraling tower. Hollowed out, narrow and tall, with just enough room to harbor the thing that had been moved here. The rod of brilliant white diamond cast shimmering light on the stone walls. It stood thirty feet tall, jagged edges suggesting it had been constructed in haste. Beneath the surface of white, broken and refracted in image by the sharp edges of the stone encasing it, was a dark shape.
Above the encased device, hanging from the top of the tower over the highest point of the diamond shield, was a different sort of machine. This too was created from diamond, but unlike the glimmering white rod below it, it was as black as a starless night. It seemed to absorb the light cast by its opposite, and shimmered nothing but void. Like a stalactite and stalagmite, the formations rose and fell to meet each other, only a few feet of space between their jagged points.
The sounds of hard work echoed in the stone tower, bouncing off of the diamond formations. Slaves were at work, positioning the heavy, black diamonds around the base of the white rod, in carefully designated areas. And from the stone balcony above, they were watched by their master.
He was as dark and still as one of the diamond formations himself. A head taller than most men, with long, raven-black hair, a single strand of yellow layered through his bangs. His features were sharp—breathtakingly handsome. His eyes slanted, enough to give him a dark, but sleek countenance. They were the color of lightning, and sparked with the same kind of power. Garbed in a black cloak that draped from his broad shoulders and followed the straight line of his spine. And upon his head, a crown of gold, adorned with a black diamond rose with tendrils of diamond vines creeping along the metal. The long fingers of his left hand sported a golden band—precisely where a wedding band would be.
The King of Diamonds watched his servants scurry like ants below.
"Your Majesty?" A woman's voice called meekly to him. It belonged to a lady with forest-green hair and matching nail polish. A snake was curled around her neck like a boa, and she wore a sparkling black dress that exposed the luscious curve of her breasts and thighs. Her eyes swam with reverence as she looked at the man standing in the darkness in front of her. "It won't be long now," she said, voice dripping with excitement.
"Yes, Giseld," the King responded. His voice was deep and wispy, like a dark song—a natural magical charm. "Soon, the world will be ours."
The hairs rose on the back of the woman's neck at these words. She stroked the head of the purple snake as it hissed in response to her physical reaction.
"Will we get the princess soon?" she asked.
"Syllestra." He ran a hand through a wave of black hair—hair that so closely resembled hers. "That depends." He clasped his hands behind his back and continued to look down at the encased Nikolana Device. "Have you seen Sânge?"
"Sânge?" She bit her lip in thought. "Not since you sent him out, Your Majesty."
The King stood still. Lightning sparking in sinister eyes.
"Do you think Macbeth managed to kill him?" The question was casual. His manner of speaking was quiet, deep, slow.
Giseld scoffed and put a petite hand on her hip. "As if that weakling could best Sânge."
"He bested you," he pointed out, without passion.
The woman's high cheekbones took color. "Your Highness, that wasn't… It was dumb luck! How was I supposed to know he was wearing hooker boots?"
"Sh."
She clamped her mouth shut and stared shamefully at the stone floor.
"I wonder." He still did not move. Not to brush hair away from his eyes. Not to lean more comfortably against the railing. He continued to stand utterly still—hands behind his back. "If he is in love with Rosy's sister."
"It doesn't matter," she said back, somewhat haughtily. "He has no right to be stepping into the princess's life like some kind of surrogate father!" She bared long fangs. "How dare he—"
"Dreamer," he cut her off, as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said—as if he were speaking to himself. "She's grown up. She looks like her sister." There was a tug at the corner of his lips. "I have half the mind to collect the set."
"Y-Your Majesty?" Giseld's face paled.
"I am curious to know if she cries the same way Rosy did. That sound… I almost miss it."
"Your Highness, you don't mean—" she trembled in desperation. "Y-you don't need that pathetic excuse for a woman! I'll be your queen! Just like you said! I can cry for you, my King! I can do anything you want me to do!"
He said nothing at all. His eyelids dropped as he thought about things unknown.
"Res—" The snake-woman reached for his cloak, but before she could touch him, the door swung open behind them.
"My King." The voice that spoke was sophisticated—refined. The speaker took a knee and bowed until his white hair brushed the floor.
"Sânge." The King finally moved. He turned to face the blood-dragon slayer, eyes scanning briefly over the blood-stained, raggedy clothes he wore.
"Your Majesty," the dragon-slayer spoke in complete humility.
"Did you kill them?"
"My deepest and humblest apologies, my King…" there was a tremble in his voice. "I… I do not know."
The King said nothing. It was Giseld who spoke first.
"How can you not know, Sânge?!" She put both hands on her hips and hissed at him. "You either killed them or you didn't! It's not complicated! Don't waste the King's time—"
"On the ground, Giseld."
She looked at Resmond with wide, confused eyes. "Your Maj—"
He pointed at the ground, expressionless. Giseld swallowed nervously but finally obeyed, bowing in the same manner as Sânge at his feet.
"Sânge, you may stand."
The blood-dragon slayer obeyed, with only the briefest smug look in Giseld's direction. He kept his head bowed as he stood before his master.
"The diamond detonated," he explained, "and I found traces of their blood among the rubble, but… I did not locate the bodies."
"…I see." He exhaled slowly before reaching into the pocket of his cloak. "That is… disappointing."
Sânge's Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped.
From the dark pocket, the king withdrew an object. It pulsed warmly in his hand, radiating red light.
"You believe, if this blood-lacrima is implanted in your body, you will be strong enough to bring back your mother, correct?" His yellow eyes were balls of electricity.
"Yes…" Sânge's fingers trembled. His eyes were glued to the lacrima.
"Sânge, Sânge…" His sigh was condescending. "It really is a shame to want something that someone else has power over." He tossed the lacrima back and forth between his open palms. Sânge flinched with each pass, fighting every instinct to snatch it out of his King's hands. "See, I wanted something. I wanted Macbeth dead. And you had power over that desire, didn't you?"
The trembling in Sânge's fingers turned to a whole-body shivering. He clenched his fists. "I am sorry, my King…"
"Yeah…" Resmond rolled the lacrima in his fingers. "Me too." He tapped the lacrima with a fingertip, and watched as the red crystal cracked, ever so slightly.
"No!" The blood-dragon slayer's eyes shot open in horror. He instinctively lunged forward, but Giseld grabbed his ankle and he fell, smacking his chin and lip on the stone floor. "Your Majesty, please!" Tears rolled down his cheeks as he cried out in desperation, pleading at Resmond's feet.
The King of Diamonds stared down at him, expressionlessly. "Sânge. It would be fair for me to break this lacrima, because you failed to fulfill my desire for the assassin's death. You know it would be fair, right?"
"Yes, your Majesty!" He clenched his hands together. "It would be fair, but please, have mercy!"
"It is highly inconvenient that he still lives, you know…" Resmond tapped the lacrima again. It trembled, as if an invisible pressure were building up inside of it. "It will be difficult, retrieving my daughter when that band of lackluster wizards protects her, particularly the Night Terror. Not impossible… but difficult. Inconvenient."
"I will not fail next time, my King! Please, place your trust in me once more. I will drown him in his own blood!"
"Let me do it, Your Majesty!" Giseld begged. "I won't fail you!"
Resmond silently looked over his shoulder at the diamond formations in the shaft of the tower. "Now, now…" his voice was calm. "No need to be so hasty."
Giseld and Sânge shared a look of confusion before bowing their heads to their king once more. He slid the blood lacrima back into the inside pocket of his cloak, masking its dull red glow. Then he clasped his hands behind his back once more, returning to his original statuesque posture. He said nothing for another long moment, yellow eyes fixed on the encased Nikolana Device.
"Do you think it will bring her pain?"
His words hung strangely in the air.
"Your Majesty?"
"Rosy's sister. Do you think it will bring her pain, the knowledge that I am just beyond reach, and that soon I will take Syllestra from her, and she is powerless to stop me?"
"Oh yes," Giseld gave a fang-toothed grin. "I'm sure she's miserable, your majesty. And she should be! The princess is yours to have! She's nothing but a lowly thief—"
Sânge stomped hard on Giseld's hand. She squawked in pain, caught his warning glance, and quickly fell silent. She looked back up at the tall form of their master.
"It would be foolish to attack them again, using the same tactic that has failed twice." His yellow eyes glanced slowly at the prostrate pair, as if to remind them that they were the failed tactic. "We'll leave them alone."
Giseld opened her mouth again and this time Sânge clasped his hand over it.
"There's no rush." He finally turned his head away from the diamond formations. "Let her suffer in the fear of my looming power for a while longer." He began to walk toward the door, stepping casually over Giseld and Sânge like they were nothing but obstacles on the floor. "I like to think that she cries herself to sleep at night. Just like my Rosy used to." With his hands still clasped behind his back, he rubbed the golden band he wore around his ring finger.
Sânge's eyes followed him, brimming with longing as he looked at the place where the blood lacrima was tucked away. Giseld's eyes gleamed with as much passionate desperation, though for other reasons.
"Sânge." The King paused.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Though it would be fair for me to break the thing you most desire, I won't." He stood still in front of the door, not even looking back at the dragon-slayer. "I'm merciful, aren't I?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. You are a generous King."
"…Yeah." Without another word, the King of Diamonds disappeared from sight.