The Requiem Of An Empress 14 Mien: 廣澤尊王「Guǎngzé Zūnwáng 」

The Duke eventually ceased in wobbling Mikhail who ceded control of his body from the languidness that hit him. Sarakiel then covered his gaping mouth with both of his hands, terror flooding the glints on his eyes.

"...Is this the afterlife? Or, since my Lord is also here and considering that you're quite the criminal, is this the underworld where the sinners are punished for eternity?!"

Mikhail cannot fathom whether he should lay his annoyance on his subordinate's wild suppositions or the point that he was labelled as an evildoer. He resisted his detestable urge to slam Sarakiel's face into the ground purely to bring back his sanity.

"Sarakiel, it's over. You're very much alive. Now, seat somewhere and keep your mouth shut.", said Mikhail, replicating the tone of an owner ordering its pet to stay motionless.

Duke Helian took no offence from that as he simply followed his master's directive, almost.

"Oh, good heavens. I'm thankful. If we're together in h.e.l.l, then I would've suffered double the amount of pain.", his voice was full of cheer when he stated his poor excuse of a grat.i.tude.

Sarakiel went on to pick up his coat that he used as a blanket and slipped it back on, completing his casual uniform. He later sat at an arm's stretch away from his commander, clueless of the fact that he amplified Mikhail's irritation.

Perhaps it was because he's conscious of the tension in his body dissipating. Wherefore, the instant he loosened up, Duke Helian's eyes slowly grew bloodshot. He hugged his knees and buried his face on top of them to cover his melancholy.

"Why do I feel so guilty of being alive? Rather, my remorse is multiplied by four.", his m.u.f.fled voice undeniably sounded dreary, enough for Mikhail to forgive his earlier insolence.

In spite of the innumerous adversaries that he's been obligated to endure, Sarakiel always handled his hards.h.i.+ps with the composure befitting of a beau ideal knight. Nevertheless, the Duke is only a young man who has attachment issues, feeding him with the tendency to succ.u.mb to his mourning whenever he loses a person he is fond of.

"Honestly speaking, it would've been tenfold for me. I've done nothing but standby idly considering that I'm the commander.", Mikhail shared his sentiments, more of a way to comfort himself instead of his subordinate.

"Why is it would have been? Did you ascertain that you aren't at fault at all, My Lord?", Sarakiel asked with his head still lowered.

"In lieu of the shame, I reckoned that it is better to be grateful of the valiant sacrifice and the enlightenment that our three fallen comrades have bestowed to us. "

Sarakiel jerked his head to the side to engage his companion in a staredown, confusion evident on his face.

"Three? It's four. Have you forgotten about Lord Khamael? How cruel can you be?"

Slighting over the denouncing statement, it took Mikhail a couple of seconds to realize that the Duke has yet to notice the animated body of Khamael. All of a sudden, the older Percival brandished an innocent smile that could easily deceive anyone into believing that he isn't an aloof person.

"Well, forgetting my brother's death will never be one of my intentions. However, for now, I want to savour the actuality that I won't be making that slip-up any time soon."

"What are you-"

"Look." - Mikhail then pointed his finger at the location in front of them, deeper in the woods, a few metres away.

Sarakiel tracked that direction with his vision. Sighting the target, his eyes widened once he saw the figure of Khamael, who was breathing steadily in his slumber.

"Mael... How did this...? Is he really alive?", he uttered breathlessly, stuck in the process of accepting the hard truth.

"Yes. Amazing, isn't it?"

Duke Helian reinstated the gaze he had on his captain, who spotted his desire to receive an extensive explanation as reflected on the lad's refres.h.i.+ng yellow orbs.

"I'll do it once we're back in Ser"- Mikhail cut his sentence short upon hearing his brother groan.

Khamael was stirring in his sleep, a sign that he's about to wake up. As antic.i.p.ated, not longer than a minute has pa.s.sed before his eyelids fluttered open. He first took in his surroundings, a.s.sessing if there is any danger solely with the ambience. He consecutively attempted to speak yet was incapable 'cause of his overly dry throat. While he's busy ascertaining his situation, without being warned, the shadow of two people hovered him.

"Lord Khamael is awake."

"Fix his uniform and give him water. I'll go ahead and link the gate."

"Roger that, my Lord."

Sarakiel nighed the still lethargic Khamael and sat on the gra.s.s to meet his friend's inquisitive gape.

"Mael, let's go home."

**********************************************

"Iophiel, open the gate."

"Certainly, Your Majesty."

Those were the only words that were exchanged within the group latterly a window of silence that functioned as their source of torment.

Duke Cynan just promptly made his way to the centre of the audience room, where he is going to conjure a gate.

"Patefio Ostium"

Mana seeped out of his fingertips and formed a black void that was 3 metres tall and 2 metres wide. Its colour changed into grey momentarily, meaning that a connection with another gate has been established.

'They will be arriving soon.', Iophiel noted as he relocated himself to the side. He did not want to block the pa.s.sage of his fellow knights.

Seconds into waiting, he observed that there was a s.h.i.+ft on the surface of the gate, and there emerged the survivors Mikhail, Khamael, and Sarakiel.

"I address the Knight Commander, Lord Percival. I commend your victory in this subjugation."

Although Mikhail was of higher rank than him, Iophiel did not bow his head along with the greeting. In the presence of the Emperor, the Knights of the Round Table should not lower their heads to anyone besides their monarch.

Meanwhile, Haniel, Israfel, and Jibrail defied their hunger to approach their comrades. They have a myriad of questions needing urgent answers. After all, they did not witness the events ensuing Sarakiel's fainting. That is why, it was surreal for them to see Sarakiel, who was possessed by an Angel, and Khamael, whose dead body was already engraved in their minds, to be alive and kicking. The knights opted to examine from afar until their meeting is adjourned.

"There's nothing worth commending in my actions, Iophiel, not even in the Emperor's dubious schemes."- Thereafter saying his judgment, Mikhail instantly escaped the watch of his colleagues and reappeared right in front of the Emperor.

The Knight commander pulled back his left arm and, with all the strength he could muster, aimed a punch towards the Emperor's face. Unfortunately for him, the blow landed on the backrest of the golden throne, leaving a deep indentation on the metal.

"I have returned, Your Majesty."

The Emperor merely sat on his seat, unmoving. He didn't even have the courtesy to respond to his knight.

Truth to be told, the Rounds would have been delighted to support their commander's aggression. Withal, they perceived the Emperor's acrid through the aura he was exuding.

Of course, Mikhail is aware of the mood. He just ached to release some of the frustrations he was bottling up.

"Gather yourselves", Mikhail instructed the knights while he sauntered away from the Emperor, as if he didn't commit a misdeed, to join the rank.

The seven of them stood in a single file facing the throne, in order of seat and evenly distanced.

"Salute."

They all genuflected on one knee, right forearm on top of the abdomen and left at the base of the back torso.

"Rakshena Ast Sacra Efidarum Ohn. The Knights of the Round Table offer our felicitations to His Majesty, Emperor Hector Atticus Seraphiel."

"Arise and begin your report." - The Emperor laid his chin on the dorsal side of his left hand, anch.o.r.ed by the elbow fixed on the armrest.

Heeding to their Monarch's brief acknowledgement, the Rounds concertedly straightened their bodies upright and a.s.sumed the proper posture for listening. Mikhail took a step forward, a must for those who are in turn to relay information.

"For a concise account of the incidents, I'll start from the moment that Sarakiel Helian went out of commission. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you were observing us, using Sarakiel as your eyes and ears, weren't you? You aren't one to waste a chance of encountering an enthralling discovery."

The Emperor just gave him a nod as a reply, omitting any commentary that was due.

"As you've heard, Ierathel advised me to utilize Khamael Percival's scroll to summon another Angel. Mainly for the reason that there is a possibility that the next one could revive Khamael, excluding the arrangement of a sacrifice that is highly valuable. Thus, I complied with it. I was somehow able to procure a bit of Khamael's blood for the summoning. Anyway, the Angel whom we hailed was named Rehael."

"Rehael? Does he have a connection with Rehael Lamorak?", the Emperor queried. It was too great of an uncanny resemblance that it caught his interest.

"None, Your Majesty."

"Continue."

"Moving on, I deduced that the Angels can grant one of our requests in exchange for the custody of the Demon n.o.bles under their jurisdiction. That's how Rehael revived Khamael without asking for immolations or the sort."

"It is absurd that they're willing to agree in a trade that they won't profit from. Are you sure that they did not demand anything else, My Lord?", Iophiel articulated his suspicion which was not exclusive to him, being that his comrades formed similar doubts in their minds.

The captain turned his attention to the knight beside him and presented his take on the matter.

"We don't have the capacity to challenge their choices when we're the ones who reaped the benefits. Do you understand, Iophiel?", Mikhail was not reprimanding Iophiel, per se. Howbeit, it came off as such to the receiver of his words.

"I apologize, My Lord. I was too prejudiced."

"Then learn and amend your mistakes."

"Yes, I will conform to that."

Mikhail subsequently returned to his duty at hand, engaging the Emperor's state of exigency.

"Your Majesty, Rehael permitted me to ask three questions. The summary of its answers are the succeeding. First, a single ent.i.ty eliminated the entirety of the legions and rendered incapacitated the two Demon n.o.bles. Second, there is no relation between Rehael Lamorak and that Angel, since it doesn't have a vessel. Third and final, it explicitly warned us to not summon them again, for the sin of reenacting will force us to bear the repercussions of ruining the balance of this world. That is all."

Mikhail claimed back his position in their row, indicating that he's finished with the report.

Quietude dominated the mise-en-scène while the Emperor perdured on his contemplation, and n.o.body dared to disturb that. The interlude lasted for a while before an imperious voice reverberated within the s.p.a.ce.

"What do you want to know?"

Mikhail was somewhat pleased when he discerned the clearance to interrogate the Emperor. Hence, a beat hasn't dropped yet prior to him talking.

"I want to surmise that it is no coincidence that Ronove was Ierathel's responsibility and Malphas was Rehael's. From who, or where, did you get these enigmatic scrolls? It is clear that they are in the know of the relations.h.i.+ps between these superior existences. Your mana is not a.s.sociated with the two spells for the summoning. Hence, it's not your feat."

This inquiry was met with an impa.s.sive sigh, delaying the arrival of the Emperor's correspondence by a fleeting hiatus.

"What if I tell you that I simply adhered to the decrees written on a parchment, inconspicuously sent by a stranger? Would you believe me?"

The captain mulled over the query of a counterreaction to his interrogatory. He didn't need to deliberate for a long time to find the appropriate comeback.

"Factoring in your capriciousness, I don't think it's far-fetched that you did something like that. I believe you, Your Majesty."

At this juncture, the Emperor rose from his seat, his countenance placid.

"Do you indeed think that I took pleasure in seeing Khamael Percival transform into an undead? Let me reiterate to all of you. I loathe necromancers and their rotten methods. However, if we persevered with our current strategies in our fight with the Demon n.o.bles, our efficiency would be most affected. Seizing this gamble harrowed me as much as did to you, my knights."

He slowly traversed down the flight of stairs to stand on an equal ground with his subordinates.

"The Empire has yet to achieve stability, from the wasteland that it once was, because of my incompetent forefathers. I cannot die yet. Therefore, I left the ch.o.r.e of testing this out to the Rounds, whose judgment and abilities I have attested. Mikhail Percival, do you reckon that it's a failure?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"Were we able to get rid of the Demon n.o.bles?"

"Yes."

"How many casualties do we have?"

"There is none."

"And despite all odds, what is your a.s.sessment, Knight Commander?"

"If we can get around the negative impacts of summoning the Angels frequently, then it is a strategy with guaranteed success, Your Majesty."

Immediately upon the end of Mikhail's speech, the door opened with a thud, throwing up Zelel in the entryway. In his right hand was a piece of brown parchment, seeming as if time has worn it out.

"As incredulous how it sounded, I spouted no falsehood. That is the parchment I am pertaining to.", the Emperor demystified the reservations that his knights had.

"Are you cognizant of the ident.i.ty of the sender, Your Majesty?", Mikhail asked regarding the highly intriguing conundrum.

"In your conversation with Rehael, this is what I'm absolutely concerned about. You see, I have this inkling feeling that the donator of that parchment is the same individual who wreaked havoc in Ikdes."

The knights did not express it. Withal, they hurriedly concurred with the Emperor's evaluation in their minds.

"Zelel", he called out to the newly arrived Prime Minister.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Begin the hunt."