The bell's ringing would fade away just like the day, vanishing with the twist of the wind. The gods still partied this day, but it was done indoors. The morning sky engulfed, those dark gray clouds having moved in. The sky opened up, someone above had begun to shed buckets of tears down upon the the ground.
The frigid rain fell heavy and quick, large droplets of tears pooling up upon adamas streets. The atmosphere took on a darker color as though it were mourning, thick and gray like a hermit's beard. So sorrowfully, it wept for the humans, they who had lost all hope. While the gods of Governanti danced and partied this day, the humans were put down and abused once more.
The slaves whom were forced to work outside upon this day, their eyes looked to the ceiling painted in many shades of gray. The rain hitting and rolling down their face, their destitute body bathed in the tears of the sky. It looked as though they were crying too, so painful were their visages. Their mouths made silent motion, uttering a despair-filled farewell to those of the Resistance.
Though the celebration was still very fierce, it was done without the crown. The king and queen needed to rest, it had only been a day since the battle after all. They sought sanctuary within their rooms, allowing their bodies to recover. But their minds were always on the move, thinking now only of the future they had promised to bring.
If they did it right, they would go down as the greatest king and queen of all time, even higher than the Hero King Dias himself. The prospect of ascending higher than even he, it truly did make them take a step back. Loads of hopes and dreams rode upon their shoulders, their entire race expecting nothing but the best from them.
Balor was alone in the king's room, the room that haunted him. Many things had happened here, a shade of his regret. This was the place where his path to the crown all started, the place where he killed his very own father. As rain tapped at the windows, Balor thought in solitude. He sat down at the foot of his glorious bed, barely a light to fight the darkness.
His glowing deep-blue eyes cut through the cloak of shadow, but it was the only warrior to fight it. The hordes of black laid siege to this place, sparing no more for any other country to flourish. The king was without his overgown he wore to the ceremony, revealing his doublet entirely. He had placed his overgown and his crown over on top of a table at the center of the room.
Balor stared down, looking down at the palm of his right hand which laid open upon his leg. The future in front of him was paved in gold, the Resistance was no more. So why? Why does he have such anxiety in his heart? Why do his knees get weak at the thought of the future? His mind knew that he was immortal now, able to provide the perfect world for his kind forever.
...But what of his sister? Would she stay at his side for all eternity? His mind wandered on the question... One day, she would be there to greet him with that beautiful smile. And then the next day, she would just disappear. She'll just be gone, no longer there to support him, to be always there, to loyally stand at his side.
Balor shuddered at the thought, a gelid arrow sent down his spine, a frosty sweat ran down his skin, his eyes even watered. He bolted up from his bed, clenching the side of his head with his right hand. He had to step away, get off that trail of thought, get a grip on his mind. The king stepped forward, putting himself in front of the window.
His sapphire blue eyes peered out into the gray, the world beyond his own. Rain knocking against the glass door, small hands rolling down its face in defeat. The city he knew so well was like a grayscale image, an unsaturated world deprived of all its luster. His reflection staring back at him whilst wearing a battered face, his glowing eyes bouncing between the two Balors.
The king looked down upon his city, seeing all that had become of it since that day a year ago. Balor knew that he had to find a way -- any way -- to somehow allow Lucia to be immortal too. There was no way he could survive, be without his sister... She was all he had left in this world, no thanks to his hand.
Before those unbearable thoughts crushed him like he were a pebble put under a boulder, the king's ears caught a sound at the door. This sound knocked him back into the fields of reality, finally prying him out of that place. Without turning in that direction, Balor prepared himself for whom laid behind that door. "What is it?" asked Balor aloud.
"It's me, my lord," said the voice behind the mahogany wood, a voice that sounded like the scar-faced general Gallows.
"Come," the king returned to his general, folding his hands together behind his back.
The door swung open, revealing Gallows. He stepped into Balor's presence, closing the door behind him. He walked several steps until he was close enough to Balor to engage in conversation, placing his left hand on the right side of his chest to salute his king and bowing his head. "Sire," the general humbly named. "you requested my ap—..."
Gallows' voice froze the moment his eyes touched the back of Balor, feeling a vibe that simply was not correct. The scar-faced general's heart grew with worry, rewording his greeting on the spot. "My lord," he then named with concern. "Is everything well?"
Balor did not turn to his general, merely kept staring to the outside. "I must confess," Balor responded. Typically quiet and able to solve problems on his own, Balor went on. "I am... worried, Gallows."
"I mean no intrusion," the general gently walked into the conversation. "but might I ask with what, sire? Perhaps I might offer advice to help ease your mind."
"It is nothing you need trouble yourself over," the charcoal-haired king replied, bottling himself up once more. "My mind has been wandering too much... I just simply do not see the future being as bright as I see the present now."
"I see," Gallows spoke, seeing the problem with the king. "and you are concerned because of it."
Balor closed his eyes, sighing as though he truly did not wish to have this conversation. "Yes," he confirmed.
Gallows smirked lightly. "I suppose that's your father in you," the general mentioned, causing his king's head to turn very slightly off to his right. "I served under Lord Divus for the entirety of my days as a soldier, and all of the time he would worry about many things. Even when peace and stability were assured, he would always be apprehensive of the next day into the future."
"And what would you tell him when you sensed his anxiety?"
"To calm himself," the general answered. "to take life one step at a time."
"Ha," the king sounded off, amused by his general's reply, clenching his visage. "I must say, it is quite bothersome, being compared to Divus."
Balor removed his hand from his face, holding it close to his face as he stared upon its every detail. "Yet, with thought, it makes sense," he went on. "He always worried about phantom issues, problems with our country and race that were as invisible as ghosts. Quite comedical, the irony that I become like my father as king."
He then smirked slightly. "It's almost pathetic, actually," Balor believed intensely, finding humor in this moment. "I am immortal, the Resistance is no more, and now Lucia and I can create the utopia we always dreamt about. I should be satisfied, should I not? We've slain our enemies, assured the way to Utopia! The future is certain, more clear than it has ever been. So, why do I doubt it, look to it with such concern?"
"I think you know the answer, sire," the scar-faced general truly believed. "You may be immortal, able to last forever, but Queen Lucia will not. Eventually she will die, disappear from this world. As I see it, you know that truth deep down, but you're too frightened to admit it."
Balor opened his eyes, his head turning off to his right. His facial expression blackened just like his thoughts, remembering the last day he saw his sister on the enemy's side. The day he had lost himself to the throes of insanity, when he stabbed her and nearly killed her. "...Yes," the king candidly admitted. "When she rejected our ideas, when she told me that she had been lying the whole time, I lost myself. And when I saw her again, I knew not what to think, how to feel. And then I..."
Balor didn't have the heart to finish his words, to traverse to the end. He had pulled up his right hand, his eyes gazing down upon it. Much like the queen who felt regret and grief staring down at her hand, Balor was sorrowfully reminded of the moment he struck his sister down, of her blood being washed on his adamas armour.
Noticing his king's voice unable to get to the period of his sentence, Gallows looked up at his king. "My lord?"
"...I do not ever wish to experience that feeling again," the king mumbled, his quiet voice angry and demanding, his right hand trembling. But then, the very familiar determination and bold outlook returned to the king's face. His eyes harshly peered out, blazing a path of glory and resolve. His quivering hand clenched tightly, his valor returning now. "I will never let it happen again, I won't. I will make it so, I will find a way."
Gallows lightly smirked, proud of his king's unwavering willpower even in the face of a sheer uncertainty. "That's the king I serve," the general said in his firm belief. "My lord, with that determination, I've no doubt that you'll find a solution."
The king then sighed, regaining his calm composure, letting go of that emotional state he was in. Balor's hands find each other once more, folded behind his back. Hearing his king sigh, Gallows returned to being serious once more. Balor's vision stretched outward, casting its glow down upon the raining city that belonged to him.
The raindrops hitting at his reflection, slithering down. The bleak-colored clouds stirred around like liquid in a cauldron, their essence falling down upon the lonely world. "Disregard that exchange," the king told his general. "it was not the reason I summoned you."
Gallows acknowledged his king's words, bowing his head. This showed to the king the top of his bald head, hiding his scarred-face. "Then to what do you ask of me, sire?" Gallows then asked of his king, humble and with the utmost respect.
"I'm sure you are aware of the little human boy down in the dungeon, correct?"
"Yes, I am," his general confirmed.
"He is no longer necessary," Balor declared, his head turning up towards the silvery ceiling. "I need you to do away with him."
Gallows' head immediately shot upwards, his sky blue eyes enlarged and irises withdrawn. "What?!" he gasped out in shock.
"I turn to you only because I trust only your hand," the black-haired king expressed. "I can be assured that the job will be done promptly and properly."
"But sire," the scar-faced soldier started his reply. "would it not be best to put him to use as a slave? Surely you needn't have a little boy killed!"
"Heh," the king very lightly breathed, amused by Gallows' desperate pleads. "This boy has quite the hold on you, doesn't he?"
"Not at all, sire," Gallows denied, bowing his head. "But if I may be so bold as to suggest, I believe the kingdom will not profit anything from the boy's death. But it will profit from his life, his life in which he can spend as a slave!"
"I advise you tread
very
carefully," the king spoke with a raised voice, closing his eyes. "This is not a favor I ask or a simple request you can reject, Gallows. You have a duty to uphold, and I expect that you not turn your back to that."
"I dare not think of that," Gallows went on. "but I do not believe this boy needs to die!"
"I know not your relationship with this boy," Gallows' opposition then spoke, his voice frustrated and ireful towards him. "but it seems you've become soft, soft and incompetent. To think that I would be disrespected by you, that you would have the gall to raise your voice and back-talk me."
Gallows grew silent, his sky blue eyes shifted away for a moment. He was grievous, remorseful that he could not change his king's mind. The boy had no family left, both his sister and now his brother are gone away now. Would he tell him the truth? Does he even have the heart to do something he had done hundreds of times over?
No, this time was different. Gallows was no longer that man, the ruthless general given the title of "Gallows." That man who could kill without thought, litter bodies around the rope that dangles from the wood. He gripped his teeth in frustration, angry at himself for his inability to voice against his king, to deny his command.
Even without looking at him, Balor could feel the presence of his general grow still and sorrowful. The king simply sighed, looking back at Gallows. His eyes peered down upon his general, feeling the regret and melancholy radiate off of him. "...I suppose I could get someone else to dispose of him in your stead," the dark-haired lord told Gallows, attempting to find an alternative solution. "The boy's blood needn't sully your hands."
"No, my lord," Gallows spoke, lifting his head up and graciously glancing upon his king. "...I'll do it."
"I'd rather not force your hand,"
"No, my lord," Gallows repeated himself, shaking his head. "You yourself just offered an alternative option, one I would take if I not thought myself competent enough to accept your task. But as long as my heart still beats, my loyalty to you, my queen, and this kingdom is unwavering. As I will do both in duty and desire, I shall do all that your voice commands."
Balor's face grew with a smile, joyful by his general's loyalty to his king's cause and overall desire and willingness to sacrifice and compromise, even in the face of the duty he disagreed with. His heart was full of pride, only wishing others were as him. A moment or two of silence passed before sound would retake the air, Balor's head turning back to the window. "You may leave at your leisure," Balor told his general,
Gallows stood up to his feet, respectfully lowering his head and saluting his king. A few second stand, showing his respect to his king. Recoiling his head forward and his hand to his side, Gallows turned towards the door, his right foot taking the first step. He began walking, his footsteps hitting the floor beneath him.
The general was in front of the door, reaching his hand for it. His hand clasped the doorknob, but he would freeze the next moment silence lost the fight to sound. "Sergius," the harsh but kind voice of the general's lord simply spoke his name, causing Gallows' eyes to fly fast over to his king. Not staring at Gallows, the general could see the reflection of Balor's glowing eyes turned to his right. "...Thank you."
That was perhaps the first time Gallows ever heard Balor thank him, the general almost wanting to fight the belief that he actually heard that. Though he did not let this surprise appear on him or hinder his reply, he simply smiled lightly and shook his head up-and-down once. "As I have said, sire," he replied to his king. "It is both my duty and my desire."
With a simple turn of his cheek, the general painfully turned away. His wrist twisted, unlocking the door. A simple pull towards him revealed the world outside of this regal room, and it revealed a dark-colored, hooded man with a mask upon his face. That mask was like that of a bird, its eyes covered with blackened glass.
His left hand was raised as though he were about to knock on the door, but was not surprised to see the general pop open the door the moment he went to knock. He had heard Gallows' hard, commanding voice, quickly did the masked man make his body straight as a pole. The man then placed his left hand on the right side of his chest, showing his respect to the high-ranking soldier. "Sir," the man's quiet voice acknowledged with respect.
Gallows raised his left eyebrow, questionable of the man's appearance."Well," the general spoke. "Since the Loyal Knights allowed you up to this floor, I suspect you've business with His Majesty... But because I do not trust you, I will ask that you remove your mask."
"Relax yourself," the king's voice then spoke from nowhere. "Let him in."
Gallows glanced behind him, his eyes to Balor. "My apologies, sire," he told his king with regret, his gaze spun back before him. "I was just checking."
With that, the scar-faced general stomped off. He brushed by the dark-clothed man, whose eyes followed closely to his back. The black robed man's body began to move forward, stepping into the king's room. With his sleeveless coat swaying with his motion, a slam and a shut confirmed the door's closure.
The general, though hostile and distrusting of the dark robed man, knew that he could not linger there anymore. His armoured body was on the move, hasting towards the stairs which led downwards. He walked down a long, seemingly endless hallway. His mind going helter-skelter, panicked by the many thoughts he had to handle all at once.
He was a man infamous among the humans as a savage, a monster. Yet he was famous among his fellow kinsmen, a man who brought righteous judgment upon the inferior race. No, he wasn't that man anymore. He was different, he actually cared about the lives he serves, of the lives in which his people enslave.
He kept on walking, passing by stationary knights who were solid and unmoving. In their solitude, they thought nothing, their minds as immobile as their bodies. Gallows had found himself at the stairs, going down then forward as he proceeded onto a landing. The many windows of the entrance room of the castle brought in nothing but dim light, the entire building as dark and dreary as the outside world itself.
The scar-faced general almost wasn't paying attention to the atmosphere, to the people he may or may not have bumped into. Knights saluted, replied to his presence with respect, but he was a dead man walking. His eyes hollowed out, wearing a bleak mask upon his face. Those knights didn't recognize that face as his, they've never seen their superior officer as this... this sorrowful man.
