"Indeed," Elliott replied in an equally hushed voice. "rumour has it that he'll be inheriting Lord Momus' role as Lord Speaker."
Digesting that bit of information, Telvern's eyes wandered onward. A pair of out-of-focus blobs lie just behind the man named Caerus, the backs of their heads were ones Telvern knew all too well. One had short, flawless, black-as-coal hair. The other possessed long, beautiful ebony locks.
It was the king and queen themselves, standing just before the funeral pyre of their much adored uncle. Similarly so to all others, Lucia were dressed in robes of ivory. But unlike the others, her robes were far superior and befitting her status as queen. It was embroidered with a marvelously detailed golden design throughout, and she wore a long cape of white that covered her shoulders.
Balor, on the other hand, wore an special suit of armour. A brilliant suit of adamas armour, brilliantly ornamented with the symbols of Solasúian society. His pauldrons made to look like a winged lion carrying a small jingle bell tied to a string in its mouth and his cape in its front paws. His cape was pearly and visually striking, its fabric made of the finest silk.
Their crowned heads hanging low with sadness and lament, unfazed by pyre's scorching heat and its whipping flames. Its radiant body dancing, brightening their world. They both looked down upon the body of what was their uncle, unable to make out his appearance or his betrayed expression anymore.
Lucia mourned as any who cared deeply for someone would, her face fraught with heaviness and pain. The whites of her eyes had begun to turn pinkish-red, a direct reflection of her sorrow. Tears fell from her eyes, dissolving in the heat of the fire.
Balor seemed almost... detached from the world, his sapphire blue eyes maliciously glaring yet grievously gazing down upon the melting visage of Momus. His expression a scowl of hatred and angry, yet a grimace of sorrow and agony.
Lucia appeared awaiting for something, turning to her right. "Where is Gallows?" she questioned with a cracked voice. "He should be here..."
"Where indeed..." Balor mumbled very quietly, his voice hollow and monotone.
Lucia turned to her left, to her only family left in this cold world. She took notice of her brother's conflicted feelings, how his face couldn't quite make up its mind on what it wanted to be. She could fathom such a battle being waged within him, because one such battle went on inside of her mind too. Momus -- their very uncle -- was a turncoat, he went dark on them.
She could relate in his mixed emotions, so she did whatever she could to console him in this time of crisis. She wanted to help him pull through, her left hand fastened around his left shoulder. In her weakness came strength, the ability to endure. She wished to support her brother no matter what, fighting back her tears with exceptional effort.
He felt the warmth of her hand upon his gelid being, yet still he was unable to be shepherded from that dark place. "Brother..." he then heard Lucia call him.
Balor was far down in a hole, looking back at all of his actions over the course of the years. Mercilessly slaughtering any who acted against him, thoughtlessly murdering all who stood in his way, all for the sake of securing the seat of power. He only wanted to shape this world into the utopia he and his sister dreamt of, and nobody was going to stop him. He killed them, after all: his mother, brother, and father...
The more the king pondered it, the more it seemed to make sense. He had never truly considered it until now, the true impact and consequence of his actions. Momus could have very well have seen Balor as this profligate son, the horrible offspring. He was aware of Raphael being a descendant of Divus, and Raphael was the literal spitting image of the former king... Could that be it?
But still, this was still so foreign to Balor, never once had he felt anything for those who stood in his way. He was numb to the murder of his victims, not even his own parents fazed him. And yet now, he couldn't cease his tears, cease his endless grief. He once thought that no one else mattered to him except Lucia, yet he felt completely wounded after Momus' betrayal and death. "Sister..." he replied back in a low voice.
His eyes jolted to her, staring upon her flame-lit face. Lucia could see a look in his eyes, something she never saw in him. It was fear, appearing so vulnerable, so exposed... Just by that look alone, Lucia knew what thought his mind wrestled with, preparing herself to speak. "I know what you're thinking, brother," she told him, then adamantly shaking her head. "You needn't worry about that ever happening."
Balor retaliated with a head shake of his own, swinging his head in a thorough denial. "No, of course not," he returned, then letting out a heavy breath. "...Sister, what do you believe it was that drove Momus into betraying us?"
"You said it yourself," Lucia replied. "Uncle was Lamian, and their objective is to eliminate us. Once he caught word of the Resistance's defeat, he knew he couldn't wait around for them to take us down anymore. He had to take matters into his own hands."
"Was that truly the only reason for his actions?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know it as well as I," Balor believed in his embitterment, his lips quivering in his furor. "He was a sympathizer of the human cause, sister. His loyalty to the Imperial Kingdom long lost, his allegiance fled elsewhere."
"...I know," she acknowledged with regret. Balor paused in a deep silence, leaving his sister in suspense. His adamas-skinned hands slowly coiled up in an ireful fist of heated iron, revealing his infuriation over the situation as a whole. The king grew red and blue with sorrowful rage, his face tightening up as his mind devoured this sour-tasting truth.
"He was a fool," he angrily hissed. "To think he revered his cause more so than
us,
his very own family! It sickens me to no end, the idea that he'd rather it prevail than the lives of his own brother's children..."
"It is as you've said before, brother," Lucia's voice then spoke out. "Uncle was no different than us, just as we're no different from him. He held the notion that what he was doing was right, and he attempted to commit an act that he believed would be justified. That's no different that we've been doing this whole time."
Balor's eyes drifted away from his sister ever so slowly and painfully, pondering words like "right" and "justified." The image of his uncle's burning carcass captured in the glowing blue windows into his soul, a body whose flesh had eroded away to its skeleton. His remains of his burnt away flesh laid all around him, having become charred flakes of skin, bone, and ash.
Staring into the scorched eyesockets of his uncle, Balor fled elsewhere. Beyond this mere physical shell, beyond the cruelty of this most brutal of existences... He found a strange piece of information he's long known, but kept in secret. Right now -- right at this very moment -- as he's living and breathing, he could finally understand something.
Was Momus so different from himself? The idea that he'd rather his path to power continue on than the lives of his own family, of all others he had killed... This piece of information bestowed yet another revelation, one which asked: was this how Divus felt when Balor committed those acts? This indecisiveness between unfathomable anger and rage and encumbering grief and pain... Was this how he made his father feel? Could he have inflicted this pain, was he truly that kind of a monster?
It was a rather sobering moment for the king of the throne, the marauded throne made of the bodies he ruthlessly sacrificed to acquire it. He understood now, this pain from the actions he committed on his way to power.
The king felt himself fill back into his own shape, feeling his consciousness flow back into his body like color returning to his skin. Even with this information he kept secluded, Balor knew he still had to deal with a traitor... Yes, treason is the worst of all crimes, and traitors deserve no mercy. Especially this one, a betrayer who could have very well stolen away the one thing that mattered to Balor.
"...Yes, that's right," Balor muttered under his breath, his cowering eyes and voice growing steady and focused once more. "We do only what we believe to be right, to be just."
Balor's hearing fell backwards, tuning into the booming voice of the one named Caerus Kórakas. His stance as still as a statue as he stood before the crowd of white, speaking in such high regard of his supposed predecessor. Those among the crowd would concur in this instance, having admiration and respect for their former Lord Speaker.
"...Lord Momus has been our Lord Speaker for the past thirty-nine years," Caerus continued to give his acclaim. "He ascended Lord Nereus Delmos in the position, having a large void to fill in Lord Nereus' departure. And he did so with honor, valor, respect, and loyalty to our society. He truly was a rightful bearer of Lord Bres' name, Lord Momus' care and commitment to our kind rivaled even his..."
Balor's head turned to look behind him, gazing back at Caerus and the crowd. Balor was set in an odd thought pattern, knowing Momus' plan was not dissimilar to his own father's, yet at the same time, it was. That dreaded thought ran in mind, a horrible plan was then conceived.
And Lucia could feel the aura, the very presence of her brother change to accommodate this new horizon of thought. Lucia's face upon Balor blackened, broadening with seriousness. "Brother?" she named.
Hearing the ebony-haired queen call him, the king glanced back at her. "Come, sister," he said to her, lightly smiling at her. "We must pay our due respect to our uncle."
How strange, Lucia thought... What an odd swing of feelings, once spewing negativity, now believing they must pay respect. Her lips hesitantly lifted up with a slight smile, putting on a brave face to combat her fears. They turned towards the crowd, but then their attention was ripped from them, hearing the very quiet shaking of armour mumur to their side.
They turned to the source of the sound, finding Gallows there. The general's recognizable scarred face was not to be seen, replaced with a great helm of similar style to the helmets worn by the Loyal Knights. Only difference in his white armour was that his pauldrons were shaped to look like a eagle and that he actually wore a cape, one that was attached into the back of his armour.
The moment the two took notice of him, their eyes like ice which froze him in his step. He paused, swiftly standing erect. He gently placed his left hand upon the right side of his chest, respectfully bowing his head. Balor folded his hands behind his back, looking down upon the armoured helmet of his general. "Ah, Sergius," he acknowledged. "where have you been?"
Hearing his king speak, the strength in Gallows' knees cowered. He dropped down onto the ground, keeping his head low. "Please forgive my tardiness, sire," he sincerely pleaded. "I had to attend to some... personal matters."
Lucia looked down upon her knight, hearing his apology as truthful and heartfelt as can be. "Lift up your head," she commanded him, which instantly prompted him to do as ordered. "We've heard about what happened to your mother, Sergius. You've our condolences, this must be a difficult time for you as well. Please don't feel like you need to apologize for it."
The muscles in Gallows' neck were weakened by her compassion, bowing his head down to her. "You humble me with your abounding kindness, my lady," he responded with utmost respect.
Gallows did as was told to him, his king's words bequeathing him the strength to stand on his own two feet once more. His armoured body reanimated, planting his glistering sabatons down into the soft, moss-green grass just below. His glowing eyes as blue and as open as the heavenly dome over their heads, shocked by both Lucia
and
Balor's rather tame reaction.
The siblings then proceed to do as they originally intended before Gallows came into their view, walking towards Caerus and to those of the crowd. Their ears hearing as the speaker began to wrap up his eulogy, raising his hands up to about to just above his waist. "Lord Momus shall truly be missed," he continued. "But fret not, my dear brothers and sisters... Today, we now shall celebrate his life, cherish his works, and be happy! He goes now to Utopia to be reunited with all of our kind gone from us, truly now as the proud gods that they were in this world. In life he was one with us, but in death he shall be one with them. One with his brother, one with his forefathers, one with all! This fate shall one day be ours too, my fellow kinsmen. And we must not dismiss it, but embrace it! Death is not to be feared, but welcomed."
The majestic, deified king and queen came into their presence, awing this massive gathering of white. So devoted to them, the head of each person fell to bow one-by-one at random. Telvern imitated the actions of all others, lowering his head. And begrudgingly so, the nobleman Elliott did the same.
Caerus took a bow, allowing his king and queen to speak. He showed the utmost respect for them, bowing his head. Balor and Lucia took one step forward, just passing by the speaker. Lucia wished to speak, but something seemed to haunt her, making her look almost traumatized.
She remembered then as she drew breath to speak that it was by her hand which Momus fell. Yes, it was by this hand that others were killed as well, particularly someone she once cherished so very much...
Her left hand came flying over, firmly gripping her right wrist to choke out these demons. She had lost all strength to speak, her lips shrinking up like they refused any comment. Doing as she did for him, Balor's hand was swift to comfort her.
"If there is one time in which I fondly recall my uncle, it would be the day of my father's funeral," Balor spoke to those among the crowd in Lucia's place. "My father's death is a moment I'll never erase from my mind, betrayed by a coward he thought of like a son. Not a soul expected such a misfortune to occur, much less believed it could ever happen. It laid an entire country laid in utterless silence, stunning all with a change that came as swiftly as thunder. The whole country flocked here, the stubborn silence hanging around as though eternal. But even when the situation made everyone lose their voice, Lord Momus had enough strength and enough courage to rise up and give his due respect to his brother. It was in that moment that I truly began to realize just the sort of person my uncle was... He was an honorable, stalwart, illustrious figure. He was a person who you could confine in and not be judged, a person who was fair and steadfast. He was a person who made it his mission every day to make this world a better place, if even it only meant bettering the day of a single life."
Balor then pulled in a large pocket of air, depositing it in a sorrowful fashion. "...But above all else, there was one particular suit that best fit my uncle," he then declared, his voice pausing briefly as he stepped forward. "He was a master of deception and manipulation."
After Balor's proclamation, there was a large amount of commotion bubbling up from the crowd. Under his helmet, the Orderer Drakon held an odd look upon his face. He turned to his clansman Caerus, who too gave him a questionable look. Every white robe turned to each other, hundreds of whispers merging and transforming into one massive clamor.
The only ones who didn't engage in such activity was both Telvern and Elliott, keeping their heads down and unmoving. A ceaseless outpour of murmurs and hushed chatter cropped up all around them, drilling into their skulls like the mumbles of a man plagued with insanity.
"What did he say?" the two could hear the voice of a woman from in front of them whisper to the person beside her.
"That's absurd," they heard a voice behind them declare.
"That can't be right..." a voice then dismissed to their left.
Elliott and Telvern remained earnestly silent, being bombarded by a barrage of noise. From behind Balor, Lucia's face was painted as black as a shadow at night. Her brother's words crammed down her esophagus, sinking down into the pits of her stomach. She was doubtlessly disturbed, the unsettled look in her eyes falling down upon the back of Balor.
She took one rapid, hammering step towards him, clenching her hands in ire. "Why did you say that, brother?!" she loudly, fiercely whispered through her cracked, mournful voice. "Why did you tell them?!"
Balor turned to his sister, seeing the look of disgust and anger emit from her as clear as the air he drew into his lungs. "It's what Momus has earned," Balor whispered back.
"Then what, may I ask, does he deserve?" her brother then questioned, then shaking his head. "Traitors do not deserve people praising their so-called 'contributions', sister. There is a reason he did all of them, and that was to strengthen this disguise of his. Every word he ever uttered, every selfless deed he ever committed, everything that he ever worked toward, everything that he ever
was
... All of it was in service to himself, not to these people, not to this country, and most certainly not to you or me."
"He was still our uncle, Balor," the onyx-haired queen returned without fright or hesitation. "Those things you said, that memory you shared... It was all genuine, wasn't it? Surely then you can see that he loved us, just as you loved him."
""Love"?" Balor quoted, his voice quivering with both sorrow and indignation. "...Sister, he tried to kill us!"
From Balor, Lucia could just detect the fury from the sound of his voice. He was agonized, but enraged... She simply looked up at him in silence, seeing the look in his eyes shift. "Don't you understand, Lucia?" he spoke very painfully, his face tensing up to reveal such raw emotion. "If it had not been for your powers, you would be dead. I could have been here right now, mourning you!"
Balor's right index finger then lashed at the pyre in which consumed their treasonous uncle. "It could have been
you
in that pyre," he continued on, shouting in voice. His fearsomely whipping finger then dashed to his left, swinging viciously at the crowd. "This gathering of our people could have been for you, sister... They could have been lamenting the loss of their queen right now!"
The king's rampage continued on, sealing the lips of all who might try to speak. The ebony-haired queen Lucia was visually stunned by her brother's heavy-hitting words, wide-eyed and jaw hanging ajar. The blaring, painful sound of his voice ripped through the air like an earthquake, tearing into the heart of any who had to listen.
Lucia then reconfigured herself, her calm look returning to her face. Her pale blue eyes unblinking, focused upon her brother's face with utmost precision. "...I would have died a long time ago if I didn't have my powers," she responded. "I would have died multiple times now, to multiple different people. And I'd prefer it if I didn't have to remind you which one was the most painful..."
