They walked, slowly and proudly, to the Throne Room.
Their steps were soft on the crimson carpet leading straight to the King’s throne, and guards lined the walls beside them. Seeking reprieve, Era retreated into himself a little at a time. I need stability, he thought. Much as I hate what I was, much as I fear it, I need that emotionless side of me right now. His expression turned stony as his anxiety melted away against his hardening heart.
“Kid, what’s up?” Gabriel whispered, still looking straight ahead.
Let me speak to him, Era demanded of his stoic side. You will not use my voice. I am in control.
Are you so certain? the voice challenged him.
I will have to be, he asserted.
You forget that this is my element. You are powerless here. Nobody knows you here. They know only me.
He shuddered. Then they will have to accept that I have changed. You will come out no longer.
You would be dead without me.
Silence!! he shouted mentally, gaining control of his own thoughts once again.
“I’m alright,” Era whispered back, forcing a small smile. “I think.”
“Hope you’re sure.”
They finally reached the archway into the throne room. Trumpeters played a fanfare as a court jester danced his way across their path. “Presenting,” an announcer recited from a scroll, “His Majesty the King, King Arcturus IV of Elthren!”
“Shit, I just realized I have no clue what to do,” Gabriel whispered in a panic.
“Just follow my lead,” Era assured him.
The crowd before them parted, and Era took the lead, walking slowly, calmly, and confidently into the room. The King sat proudly atop his throne, an older man with a finely trimmed brown beard and a bejeweled crown atop his head. His throne was spilling over with furs, both from his fine clothing and those meant as a blanket.
Era approached his throne, kneeling slowly down onto one knee and bending over as far as he could in an extremely formal bow. “Your majesty,” he said humbly, “I am at your service.”
Gabriel followed his lead, bowing and speaking in turn. “As am I, my lord.”
“You may rise,” the King commanded, his voice gentle but compelling. As they complied, he looked over to Era. “Lucien Baines. You have been absent quite some time from this castle.”
“I have, your majesty.”
“Do you have a story to tell of your long sojourn?”
“I do, your highness, but the tale is long and I am sure our time is short.”
“This is true. Perhaps I will hear it later, then.” He glanced over them both. “In the meantime, we do have a much more pressing matter to attend to: you are both, according to my recollection, involved in the murder of Archmage Surront, also known as Caine Lapointe.”
“That is true, sire.”
“Enlighten me,” he said, leaning forward, “as to your connection to his death.”
Era swallowed heavily. “It was… I dealt the killing blow, your highness.”
The King sighed. “I had hoped not to hear that.”
“In my defense, sire, it was an act of self-defense and vengeance. He had… he had just slain my sister right beforehand, gravely wounding me in the process.”
“I see. So things are not entirely as my servants describe. Will you recount your side of the encounter?”
“Of course, your highness. I suppose I will have to explain a bit of my own predicament to shed some light on our circumstances.”
Era told him of his amnesia, of his quest for his name and identity; he told him of Caine’s taunts and threats; he explained his trip to the Academy, carefully stepping around his connection to the thieves guild; eventually, he explained their arrival at Attiricus’s mansion and the subsequent slaughter that ensued. His voice had started off calm, but by the end he was shaking uncontrollably, fighting to keep his knees from giving out. Gabriel looked over to him out of the corner of his eye, the emotion in Era’s voice making his fists quake.
Taking a moment to compose himself, Era shut his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked up to the King and bowed low.
“That is my side of the story, your highness.”
The King looked at him with scrutiny. “You show such emotion,” he noted. “That is very unlike you.”
“Much is different now,” Era said. “I am not the same person I was before, your highness. Not in the least.”
“That does seem to be the case.” He looked over to Gabriel, who got a chill up his spine at the King’s gaze. “And you, Gabriel Dalgard,” he said calmly, “his story, to the best of your knowledge, is accurate?”
“Yes, your highness,” he said stiffly. “I was there for a lot of it, and everything he said, I can confirm.”
“Then I am at a bit of a standstill,” the King mused. “For you see, Lucien, I thought to execute you if you had, indeed, murdered Caine. That is what most of the castle would like to happen; Caine was well-respected.” Era felt a guilty sinking in his heart.
“However, I am inclined to believe your tale, and therefore, I think my judgment should be postponed, if not entirely cancelled. What are your thoughts on this?”
Era blinked, shocked. “I… well… I am most grateful, my King.” He bowed low, arms out. “However, as I described, I am not innocent in this matter. I am not asking for punishment, but I do not wish our previous interactions to come between me and any fate you would have in store for someone else in my place. If there are any at all, sire.”
“To the best of my knowledge, I see your actions as justified,” the King explained. “Though I, too, was fond of Caine, this does not seem like anything but a foolish act of revenge on his part.”
Era grimaced. “Your highness, he… his revenge was most justified.” Gabriel looked at him incredulously.
“Really now?” asked the King. “Care to explain?”
“Sire,” he began, “I must confess something else as well: in my fervor for knowledge and in questing for eternal life, I performed… ghastly experiments on my apprentice.” His voice trembled; his eyes wandered the floor.
“What sort of experiments might we be talking about here?”
“I… learned to grab hold of a human soul, grasp what we thought to be intangible, and to rip it from its human host.” He shuddered. “It… is an… excruciatingly painful process.”
“And yet our Caine lived for long after you say these experiments happened.”
“I did not release my grip on his spirit. I would place it back in after I had torn it asunder.”
“You say it was an extremely painful process. How often was this done to your apprentice?”
“A few times a week… for several weeks… your highness.”
The King’s expression hardened. “You must have had a reason for all this.”
“To hone my technique,” Era said quietly. “I planned on performing the same ritual on myself eventually.”
“To what ends?”
“I wanted to turn myself into a Lich, the undead, undying sorcerer from legends past. To do so, I would have to bind my soul to my very bones.”
“A Lich, you say?” he asked. “Then I can at least see your reasoning behind your apprentice’s suffering.”
“There is no justifying what I did, your highness. Nothing I could ever do could atone for my crimes.”
“So you say,” the King stated. “I am inclined to agree, but only because you make it so.”
Confused, Era lifted his eyes from the ground. “What do you mean, my King?”
“The only one who seems unable to forgive you,” he explained, “is yourself. Is it not enough that you regret what you have done?”
“It… does not feel so, sire.”
“Your guilt is punishment enough for your sins,” he said. “It would not be enough for most, but for some of us, the guilt over having done wrong is worse than any punishment that could be dealt by another hand.”
“I believe I understand your reasoning,” Era said with a subdued smile.
“As for Caine’s death, my mind is settled,” he said. “You are both declared wholly innocent in the matter, as it was certainly a crime done in self-defense. Attiricus will be mourned, as will your departed sister, in due time.” Both Era and Gabriel’s hearts leapt. “In the meantime, you are free to go, though I ask that you stay in the city for another week at least, just to be certain that no ends in this case are left undone.”
They both bowed low on one knee once again. “I am grateful from the bottom of my heart for your mercy, your highness,” Era said humbly, meaning every word.
“As am I,” Gabriel said. “Your understanding is truly something to be admired.”
“It is always pleasing to have the favor of one’s subjects,” King Arcturus said with a smile.
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