Tale of Four

Lord Elvissia sat atop a crate, his sword across his lap, cleaning it with one hand. By his side was the helmet with Azwald’s death mask, his other hand poking at the thorns hidden beneath the crown of roses. Around him, laughter echoed as men drank and cheered, telling the same stories to one another of Hyman and Aslam’s duel, making it more grandiose each time despite not seeing it.

"You should learn to smile, Harling." A kind voice called out to Lord Elvissia, and stopping what he was doing, he looked up and saw a slim man. He was small, compared to most, but it wasn’t what made everyone look at him strangely. Harling understood the gazes that looked at Lord Azmon, however. He didn’t feel human, the same way the rest of his family didn’t. His face was too perfect, everything perfectly symmetrical. His nose was long and sharp, and he had a pair of deep-set, golden-coloured eyes. His skin was unnaturally pale, yet he wasn’t ill. But that wasn’t the strangest part; it was his hair. Harling couldn’t take his eyes away from the beauty of his hair. Parted down the middle, it was red in colour, not a normal red, but as if rubies had been melted down and threaded into his body to create hair.

It wasn’t strange for dynastic traits to be passed down between parent and child, but the Azmon’s were different. All of them, no matter who they were, always looked similar, each too perfect, each with ruby coloured hair, each with their golden eyes. It was as if they were being cloned over generations, with only subtle differences to tell them apart. The only ones to have not been affected when marrying an Azmon were the Cosmatons.

Harling looked away, realising he was staring, and rubbed the helmet of Azwald’s death mask, thinking of Lord Azmon and his dynasty. As the descendants of Azwald’s brother, it had caused many theories about why they look the way they do. Some said their eyes were gold becuase they saw the Lord, and their hair was red becuase it soaked up Azwald’s tears of blood. Some said the Lord created them to be that way out of love. Finally, some said the inhuman feeling about them was proof they had betrayed the Lord and blamed Azwald for it.

"What are you thinking so deeply about?" Lord Azmon said, taking a seat next to Harling. Even his voice was strange, perfect on the ears, having the ability to entice anyone to do what he wished if talked to long enough, making someone wish they would never stop.

"You already know." Azmon laughed and covered his mouth, hiding his perfect set of white teeth.

"I had assumed that your family would be free from the effects of my family’s looks, but even they aren’t," Azmon said with a sigh.

"Forgive me." Harling frowned and lowered his head in shame.

"No, no, do not worry. There is a reason the majority of my family isolates themselves." Lord Azmon said with a kind voice, "Besides, I would hardly consider myself to be the strangest-looking person within the realm. The Clovers and Blackwells are far stranger in my opinion. And we don’t even know if the Ravens are human." His gaze shifted towards the death mask of Azwald. "I had always assumed that was for decoration."

"What do you need, Lukas?" Harling asked, not wishing to engage in small talk, finding himself wanting to get away from the man before he lost his reasoning. Grabbing his necklace, he offered a silent prayer for his thoughts. Lukas reached under the gauntlets and pulled out a thin scroll. Handing it to Harling, his smile fell.

"Word from Everlight. Numerous members of the clergy have been arrested for heresy."

"Preposterous." Harling denied it instantly, but Lukas shook his head. Reaching into his other ganulet, he pulled out another document, this one a church document bearing the seal of Cardinal Brown, allowing the release of a prisoner arrested on the grounds of heresy. Harling stared at it, trying to find any discrepancies. Yet as he did, he couldn’t find a single one.

A seal could be forged; the words could be, but there was one secret within the church that only his family, Lord Azmons and the Lord Invigaltor knew. "The ink is ours." Every piece of ink provided to the clergy was specially made by their families. It was a subtle difference from normal ink and not a foolproof counter to forgery, but all official documents submitted by church officals had to use the ink, a reform created during the reign of Douglas ’The Pious’ to counter another heresy.

"Either they forced the Cardinal or the heresy has taken root underneath our eyes," Lukas said with a grave tone. "For 400 years, we haven’t faced one; many people don’t even remember how to counter it."

"Has the Lord Invigaltor been made aware?" Lukas nodded.

"He has already sent some of his people to begin the investigation. The church has already been split on this war, but if it is allowing a heresy to form, our sway will no longer allow them to pick a side and will force neutrality." Lukas warned, making Harling frown.

"Heresy." Disgusted by the concept, Harling grabbed his necklace and offered a prayer to guide the faithful back on the right path. "But we can’t be sure this isn’t a ploy. Anton is hardly a religious man, and I wouldn’t doubt him using this as a chance to cause a rupture to buy himself more time."

"It wasn’t Anton. He has taken to the field; the Prince Regent is the one who sent word." Lukas took a deep breath. "You must make a choice, my lord. The problem is, if this is proven true and the church officals of Everlight were the ones allowing the heresy to fester, they have legitimate ground to say we were the ones causing this to weaken the war effort."

"A poor accusation."

"One that will have standing." Lukas added, "I have had my family research this heresy, its origins and teachings. War is something that will allow this to grow, whereas peace wouldn’t. As much as I do not wish to say it, with or without the clergy doing anything, it would likely grow as war continues. Everlight is the breeding ground, but the Lord Invigilator has discovered it is spreading across the Crownlands. War and the death of two Great Lords is a poor sign to the commonfolk. Their faith wavers in turbulent times."

"In the worst-case scenario." Harling paused and picked up the death mask. Rubbing its mourning face, his fingers danced across the crown of roses. "What do you expect?"

"Much like 400 years ago, civil war. However, unlike the faith of the Golden Tree, this does not yet seem to be influenced by a foreign power, although we do know of one that exists and takes it as its dominant religion. Should they discover it, I do not doubt they would launch a crusade to enforce its spread. War breeds death, and they worship it. They would not care for negotiations and will die for the cause." Lukas gravely said, making Harling frown.

"I will send word to the Prince Regent, and gauge his standing on the issue. In the meantime, send word to the Judiciary." Harling paused, almost hesitant to say the next words, "Begin the preparation for the Douglas Decree."

"Are you sure?" Lukas said with shock. The Douglas Decree was the main instrument to destroy the standing of the previous foreign heresy, allowing the Lord Invigilator to try and punish anyone they see fit without a trial should they be accused of heresy. It was a dangerous gamble that, if misused, could destroy the reputation of the Church for decades.

"We know the heresy is real, Lukas. We must take no risks with those who wish to tarnish our Lord’s teachings. The Will of the Creator is clear. Rebellion to his cause must be quashed; his fury is justice." Lukas took another deep breath and nodded. Placing a hand on his chest, he bowed.

"I understand." Harling nodded as Lukas stood up and walked off. Looking back down at the death mask of Azwald, he couldn’t help but click his tongue and sigh, realising what was to come.

---------

Alone on the throne, Elias sat, his fingers curling around the throne, tightening and untightening as he continued to ponder what to do. Flipping his right palm over, smoke formed, before turning into an inferno, which then forged itself into a bird of pure fire, each section a different colour. Its eyes burned with a white glow, flames dancing with arrogant light that looked down on the world. Its body was a deep red, collapsing in on itself before reforming. Its wings were orange, snapping at the ends. Its long neck stretched out before curling and resting just above its torso; its body sleek, extending across the entire armrest.

"Serevus," Elias spoke to it with a warm tone, smiling when he looked at its beautiful body made up of numerous fires. Serevus stared at him before looking behind at the throne.

"This chair is rather strange. But..." The burning white orbs in his eyes narrowed, "It is fitting." His voice was imposing, even a casual sentence feeling as if he was commanding someone. At the end of each word, the snapping of fire would come from his throat. "Why do you summon me?"

"Becuase of Mabel. I gave her the choice, and whilst I understand she has responsibility, I know I have betrayed her." Elias said with a slightly conflicted tone, "I have promised her for so long not to do this and yet I betray it."

"Why do you concern yourself with such insignificant problems?" Serevus said as if Elias was an idiot, "You will be her king. She should fall to her knees and thank you for guidance."

"She is my sister and the one whom I trust more than anyone in this world."

"Then she should weep with joy at being trusted with such matters. This is all a test. Loyalty is easily bought. All may say they are loyal, yet there comes a time when they must prove it. Blood means nothing compared to actions. She must prove to us that she is worthy of our respect, for if she can’t handle a simple task, then there is no reason for her." Serevus callously said. Elias’s hand tightened around the armrest.

"She is still my sister." Serevus looked up and met Elias’s eyes. The flames flickered with a strange emotion.

"Why does that matter?" Serevus said, "Blood is meaningless in this world. A sister’s role is to kneel before their brothers and do as commanded. The same way all must kneel before a king, without plots or schemes. They do not bargain, they do not negotiate. Men should fall before their betters, and when they do not, it is a king’s responsibility to cut their knees and force them. If they still crawl in defiance, end the beast. Your father understands this, and it is why he is a true king. He will make the hard choice and slay his kin becuase it is what a king must do."

Elias closed his eyes. "So you tell me to force my sister. As she put it, hold her at the tip of a sword. Tie her up and throw her into his bed."

"There is no other way. War requires sacrifice. Why is it she is free from its burdens becuase she is your blood? Your father must kill his brother. Your uncle, a pathetic man, even understands this and takes responsibility. Make her prove who she is loyal to, you or her ideals. If she chooses wrong, correct it, for that is a king’s responsibility. If she rejects that kindness, enforce it." Elias took a deep breath, his fingers dancing atop the armrest. With a nod, he looked left, hearing footsteps approach.

Serevus followed his gaze and saw William burn brighter, as if cleansing himself of William’s gaze. William didn’t react to the blatant disrespect of the phoenix and instead approached closer, placing a hand on his chest. Coming to a stop, he bowed.

"My prince." Lowering his head, William smirked, "I have a proposal that you may like." Elias looked down at William, struggling to hide the contempt for the man who never stopped smiling.

"What?"

"This heresy has shown us the failures of the church and the fear of the people." William lifted his head and chuckled, "When soemthing fails, there is always an opening." William fell to a knee, surprising the two. "It is time to reclaim the Cosmatons’ right."

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