Chapter 122: Chapter 116

There was little left in the room for rummage. An elevated stone pavement had bloody metal daggers abandoned beside some freshly peeled limbs, and a pitchfork was left leaning against the cracked stones that had things I didn’t want to see. Blood had dried all over the room, the stench making it hard for me to trudge toward the dingy cot. The nightstand beside the cot was stained with unknown liquids, a plate with decaying empty eyeballs trying to hide the filth underneath. An alfet wasn’t something I was expecting, but it lay huddled at the rightmost corner beside a closet covered in cobwebs.

I pulled the drawer with my gloved hands. Empty sockets greeted me, the head mashed enough to be reduced to a puddle. What else did I expect from a bloodthirsty undead?

I shut the drawer in annoyance and walked toward the closet at the other end of the room. Rats squealed from the dark corners, their gleaming eyes casting wary glances directed my way. I removed the cobwebs with my hands and held the metal handle. A pull had it in my hands, but the decaying wooden closet creaked open anyway. More than ten dolls were arranged next to one another on the top shelf that I doubt my lady could have reached.  Small tags with names had strapped their fates onto these harmless puny things. Little will of their own as they succumbed to the orders of unworthy mortals.

I burned them all but one before setting fire to the entire room. As far as I was concerned since their owner was no longer running at large, the soul-binding technique was of little consequence. Of course, testing was harmless when your fate wasn’t at stake. I stuffed Terian’s straw doll inside my coat.

[Hell fire] crawled out of the room, eating everything locked in prison. Most were half-summoned creatures from unknown worlds, their visage too disfigured to gauge their prowess. I watched Inkala’s sanctuary burning before me, the vivid flames harmlessly caressing me, their intention clear. I continued deeper into the gallows instead of retracing my steps, curious to see if the other entrance indeed opened to the palace.

More aimless walking followed through brightly lit stony passages this time. The guards were eaten by fire before they could chop my limbs, the ash welcoming my grandiose stroll to liberation. When I finally reached the door, I realized all the sneaking was for naught. Pathetic mortal he was, but I didn’t know mortal kings didn’t have bread… balls, if I may.

I kicked open the door, and the sight that greeted me wasn’t that of mortals copulating nor some guards waiting in line to degut me. A lone figure was seated at the corner of a resplendent room. Gems glittered wherever my eyes fell, the chandelier overflowing with innumerable mana lamps. The bed was thrice my size, and curtains filled with embroidered phoenixes and dragons draped the fringe. The table was littered with documents that flew off the table when the wind blew from the open windows. One landed beside me, and I saw an empty spot for royal seal at the bottom.

The figure glanced at me, his hand loosely holding a bottle of wine.

“A fine night,” he said, removing the crown from his head. He placed it on the table, stopping the documents from flying off into the distance, and pointed to the wine-filled closet to his left. “Care to accompany me for a drink?”

“Berzilius,” I walked forth and sat on the bed. Too much comfortable for my taste.

“Preposterous,” he said with a resigned smile as he chugged another mouthful of wine. “What brings you here?”

“Just some night errand,” I replied and pointed to the fruits beside the bed. 

He waved his hand in approval. “Just don’t know if they have been poisoned. Who cares if I have the plague? Better if I die a day earlier for many.”

I stuffed the grapes in my mouth. “A lonely life.”

“A lonely life,” he repeated after me. “Lost myself in luxury, drunk in power to govern, women kept me away from official business. My younger self would laugh at what has become of me. Let my son kill me? Ah, don’t even bother mocking. There are just knives for a ruler, no family. What’s your story?”

“Mine?” I shrugged with a smile. “Like every other mortal.”

“Tortured soul,” he drank more wine and wiped his mouth with his sleeves. “A kindred spirit.”

I sighed. “Your Highness-”

“Stop,” he waved his hand profusely and frowned. “Not today. Fraudulent loyalty has eaten my trust dry. Just need some company for fine wine. Not women, not advisors, not generals, but a man like you. A fellow tortured soul who has walked through the darkness all alone."

"I'm not a tortured soul," I laughed, which turned to a dry cough.

"Throne has given me things you cannot fathom," his eyes held me in place. I could see hope, destitution, rage, and misery in his eyes, all aged like the fine wine he was drinking. Perhaps, I had misconceptions about the one who sat on the throne, or perhaps, only the looming death brought the best of the man. "Mistrust, agony, power, wealth, women, children, and," he took a deep breath, "ability to discern people. Dissect their facade and see for who they truly are."

I took a bite of the apple and glanced at the sword by the large door. The scabbard was dripping with fresh blood, the beautiful carpet tainted by stains of some dead souls. 

“Killed them,” he laughed. “All who went down to the gallows met their end in my hands. I wanted to do one thing right before death liberated me from this agonizing life. Perhaps, I could look my forefathers in their eyes. Or so I thought.”

“Abused, tossed out, ambushed, burned, racked, hunted,” I said with a shrug. “Nothing stopped me, Berzelius. There’s no right in this world. It’s perspective. Moral and upright? Honest and benevolent? Kind and loyal? These are just mortal fallacies. True when dealing with others, and never with oneself. Hypocritical blood runs in you, mortal king, so you should not crave acceptance from your forefathers. Rather make them bend to what you consider the truth. Instead of trying to earn pity, buckle up and force your way through.”

A shadow of understanding reflected in his eyes, but he was too drunk to act on the realization.

“Destruction awaits the kingdom if I act on my desire,” he said after a long pause. “War for succession will ensue, countless bodies bathed in blood for nothing.”

I didn’t reply; instead leaped to the ledge of the window. “If you plan to kill yourself, that sword won’t do. The Crown Prince will get enough leeway to pin it on the assassins. Find a better way.”

“Immortality runs in your veins; even demon plague doesn't dare to touch you,” he said, his eyes focused on the dangling chandelier. He wasn't really responding to my words. “But so different are you from Inkala."

The clouds shifted, and his face was illuminated by the faint light of the full moon. The skin on his face had already started rotting, pus-filled boils all over his limbs. They were increasing in size at times, the pus ready to ooze out any passing moment. Painful it was, but his face held nonchalance.

"I need something from you," I said, still perched on the window sill. "I need to warn Escavs about this Plague. A decree is all I need." 

He pointed to the exquisitely carved amulet on the table. "That's the King's Amulet. Keep it farthest away from those who seek power."

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"How much can I earn by selling it?" My lady's bread bakehouse wasn't far off.

That earned me a laugh, a boisterous one at that. "It will help you with the Escavs. Go now.”

I disappeared from the palace and reappeared on the roof of an unknown abode. After glazing at the shabby, decrepit houses around me, I realized I had jumped to the wrong locale. It took a couple of more attempts, a faint glimmer of the shadow of two men in purple robes marking my locale. The spiked gates warded off the intruders, the wide compound walls covering over a few hundred meters girth. I dropped before them after donning a mask, swords naturally making their way into their hands, the draw fast enough to chop the head of a sturdy mortal in seconds.

“His Highness sent me,” I said, removing my cloak draped in blood. The amulet dangled from the button of my shirt and the chain traced a curve as it got lodged in my coat pocket. They kneeled at once, hands fisted over their bowed heads, shoulders raised. “I am here to enquire about the body you recovered today.”

“Lieutenant Dawn has quarantined the dissection chamber. No one is allowed to go either way, sire!” 

“Take me to him,” I said, already pushing open the heavy gates. At first glance, the gates appeared to be an unyielding mass of metal, but delicate carvings were etched on the cold surface.

“Sire, he has locked himself inside, too,” the lanky guard said. Underneath his robe held the best heavy armor procured in the kingdom, but his movement was fast and unhindered as he stood before me. 

“I am here as His Highness’s envoy,” I cast a lazy glance past him to the mana lamps on the wide lawn. “So take me there. Are you opposing the king openly?”

That had him on his knees again. I headed right, away from their main edifice to the small cottage beside. It was twice the size of my lady’s room, despite being non-existent next to their large building.

A knock earned me no reply. The second one pulled their attention.

“No one is fucking allowed here! Get your arses off the lawn and do something worthwhile while I figure this shit out!”

There were multiple movements inside, indicating that he wasn’t alone inside.

“Are you infected, Lieutenant?” I asked casually. “His Highness sent me here.”

“I fucking don’t care what the decree says! We are burning down this place at dawn before the infection spreads!”

“A fleeting life is all you have,” I leaned against the wall beside the door, watching the Escavs at the gates sending a few men in my direction. “What is the whole point of saving many?”

“What the fuck are you harping about?!” the man snarled. The authoritative voice was enough for me to ascertain that he was indeed a high-ranked officer.

“A genuine question,” I replied. “A mage sacrificed his life to save the vanishing years of others. Do you think it’s worth it? Why not try to live one day longer, even if it means getting rid of everyone else?”

“Some fucking twerp, y’are! Get the hell out of here before we come out and burn your shit with us!”

“A feisty lad, aren’t you?” I laughed. “[Hell Fire] will eat you before dawn. Relish your final moments.”

There was silence as I cast [Hell Fire] to the disjoint cottage. The other Escavs stood far away, watching the dangling ornament of Berzilius in my hands in repressed silence.

“Ey, mage,” his voice stopped me from leaving. “Twerp’s ne’er been loved before, ey?”

I burned more mana, increasing the intensity of the fire.

“Not until a few months back,” I replied. “But I wish to save her purely to fulfil my heart's boredom.”

“Then imagine living without her, mage. And don’t fucking question our resolve.”

I disappeared from the lawn and watched the fire from the roof of the adjacent house. 

Imagine living without Letitia? 

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. But it lingered there, troubling me, wracking me out of my newfound solace.

What was this congestion in my chest? I didn’t have an answer.

Sometimes, I was a clueless undead.

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