The King stepped through the halls of his castle in complete silence. This wasn't something he necessarily expected. After the loud welcoming party and all the people who immediately surrounded him, strolling through the beige corridor was only accompanied by the closed windows and the sunlight shining through from a spotless sky.

He hung around for a few seconds on these views, coughed out generously and continued his thoroughfare. The pathway eventually narrowed, with pillars on each side holding onto busts of various royal figures, late kings and queens of Saphrith.

The red carpet that strung below his bare feet eventually split into two paths, one leading towards a brighter, copper-coloured hallway with windowpanes forming the ceiling as well as two staircases, one neatly following into the spacious basement, and the other, up towards different parts of the castle with colourful panes telling the various stories of how things came to be.

With one glance, he recalled reminiscing about them when younger. A massive spear hung somewhere at the end of that hallway, but Sebastian rarely wandered there either way. He could probably say its name or describe the way it was made. The forger who crafted it was someone noble as well, but very humble about his works. With a loud sigh, he turned to the other pathway, where the carpet ended near an entrance.

A big, silver door separated this part of the Goldenleaf Castle from the King's chamber, and just as he requested, it was tucked away further from the throne or anything that concerned being a ruler. The second he flung it open, a grand bed with green curtains, barely illuminated by the lights fighting the rather generous darkness of the chamber alluded him.

There were two windows, detailed with something resembling trees painted on the pane, and comfortable carpets, each a different visualization of certain places in Errarion. There was no chandelier hanging above, but there were a few tables or chairs near the bigger window. He stared out of it for a few seconds, watching as everything and everyone gathered around the white buildings of Oldenklow.

The castle's towers stood above a fortress-like structure. The squares with fountains or places where most royalty would hang out were filled to the brim with people calling in celebrations of the king's arrival, and even continuously yelling out in the vague direction of the chamber. The roads going down and further towards the rivers or the distant lakes, with blooming flowers on windowsills were obstructed by everyone trying to squeeze through loud parades.

Musicians played and charmed everyone on the few open crossroads, where the buildings created arches and enough room for everyone to gather. Some even swam in the smaller ponds separated by older, overgrown bridges or trees from small circular balconies at the side. Oldenklow was never as loud as it usually was, and Sebastian perfectly knew why.

Alas, the King stared forward instead. The green and barely orange landscape of the mountains or Orawood stretched before him, and with a sigh, he slid the curtains back in their place and essentially jumped onto his comfortable bed.

He waited in the same position, flat on his stomach, before turning and putting a hand on his forehead. A slight headache, atop every other pain in his body, made sure of its presence, but he felt like that little moment was enough to cure all of his pains.

He closed his eyes, waiting to drift off.

Then, the sound of knocking intruded.

Sebastian uncalmly opened his eyes, only for the noise to startle him again. "Patrick?" he asked. "Bartholomew? Florian? Kania?"

"No, Sir. It's me." a muffled voice spoke, but he turned to the side and offered a sigh.

"Come in, Xard," he uttered, obviously tired.

"P-Pardon my intrusion, dear Sir!" he bowed, barely squeezing through the doorway before immediately shutting the door behind him.

"Can't even get a moment's rest here." Sebastian scratched around his back. "What do I need to do? The ceremony starts tomorrow."

Xard put a hand around his neck. "Some of the Royal guests have already arrived, and we're trying to battle the hordes to get them accommodated."

"Then it's something that doesn't concern me."

"Actually-"

"Let me guess." Sebastian held Xard's word. "It's Yuska's initiative for another welcoming tea party. Maybe it'd be fun if she did something different for once." he chuckled. "Or just straight-up business. I assumed it was one of my sons who thought it'd be high time to say hello or..." he stopped, turning to Xard who held a paper in his hands. "Some sheet?"

"It's-"

"Formalities, for sure. Petitions that need signing, more..." he stood up, waddling over to a table. "...paperwork, even though I only ask for an hour to myself."

"It's a letter from Bancho, sir," Xard spoke, neatly fixing his collar.

"Bancho?" Sebastian turned. "Colour me surprised. Letters from the dead."

"It was sent in days before such, sir."

"Did you retrieve it?"

"It was directed at the King. We believe it was written only moments before his passing, so... Mr Bancho wouldn't have the slightest clue where you'd be."

"You may be right." Sebastian nodded, coughing. "He always said he had a sense for people, but he wasn't royal or anything." he fixed his glasses.

"I'll just have you know, dear King, we've already acted upon its contents."

"Acted upon it?" he asked. "Not that I had much of a say in anything, especially if I spent most of my time in Malikan. What exactly did you act upon?"

"Just read, please." Xard bowed, stepping closer and handing the letter over to the King.

Sebastian put it down on the table and carefully scanned through it. Xard put his hands together, observing the king. It seemed that Sebastian finished reading, however, he put the paper in both hands, marking something with an inked, feathery pen.

"Bancho M. Vitaglia." he read aloud the last words, scratching his head. "But I never lie, dear king. I always aim for the truth to be handled right to your doorstep." he continued. "Okay..."

Xard gulped before Sebastian turned around.

"Who executed the orders, Xard?" The King asked.

"Sir Prune, Sir."

"Of course he did." he rolled his eyes. "I'll have to tell him to handle a certain someone's letters with a pinch of salt." his finger landed on a few letters, before they drifted downwards, marking something right below the ink. "Atomu Turon, Rowan Sven, Chyuuichi Gamma," he muttered.

***

Atomu lay on the side of his chamber. He felt too tired to stare out of the window. His hands wouldn't even think about climbing up the side and trying to gander, especially now that he wasn't involved.

The pain still lingered, and even if he tried sleeping it away something would suddenly hit and he'd grow limp. Then again, a few minutes later all that would be gone in place of this unsure emptiness.

Long gone after the seven months were any thoughts of rebellion or understanding the situation. At first, Atomu wanted to know why Bancho would write something like this. Why someone that he trusted, someone who saved his life on multiple occasions back then ever reveal such cruel details?

Maybe Atomu would be dead already. Maybe all of this disappointment, this... nothingness would be simply replaced by a black void.

The abundance of answers, as well as questions. Even if he tried going back to what he established in Orania, a question would surely pop up in the back of his mind.

Why? Why all of this? Why me? Why him? Why them?

Atomu finally closed his eyes, even if for a second. Pain, regret, limpness. Perhaps that emptiness as well. Hurt sometimes felt more to remind him that he was still there.

He'd wake up tomorrow and it would repeat. Proof of inhumanity, proof of something that he surely was.

A noise sounded.

Atomu barely moved but turned to the other side to face the same, dirty metal bars that separated him from the rest of this world. Soon enough, three figures stood near the ajar doorway, one stepped in to untie the ropes around his legs, instead replacing them with metal cuffs, the same as the ones that soon landed around his wrists.

Atomu stood up without them asking. He obliged, with his head focused on the ground, as well as his aching, sore feet. Following the three silent guards, he stepped out of the dark area and into further murk.

Maybe there were windows there that shone some light in. Atomu wouldn't know, his eyes were closed.

***

"You're holding it the wrong way!" Rowan uttered, in half-a-whisper.

"This is the sharp side, ya idiot!" Chyuuichi replied, before smashing the cutlery into the wall.

The Tributal rested on the side of the bed, legs twisted and spread across, while the Mirillian sat on the ground, sticking his tongue out and picking at the brick wall.

There was one big deck of cards and two smaller stacks near the two prisoners, as well as Chyuuichi's leftover food that he kept on snacking. Whenever a guard passed, Rowan would put the cutlery to his side while Chyuuichi used them to... eat.

"This is stupid." Rowan put a hand over their forehead. "We're never getting out."

Chyuuichi stuck his tongue further out before speeding up the process.

"You're making too much noise either way!" Rowan raised his voice.

"Believe, believe...!"

"You're not even casting any magic." Rowan shook their head. "We're never getting out of this-"

Suddenly, their intrusive thoughts were broken and picked apart by a part of the wall crumbling, as a small pebble tumbled on the ground and landed next to Chyuuichi's foot. The Mirillian, stared at the stone, before aggressively pointing in its direction.

Rowan fixed their glasses, before putting both items into their hands, glancing back and forth and tapping at the wall. Surely enough it... started to crumble, ever so lightly. Was this some form of miracle or an unknown power Chyuuichi harvested? Then again, he was a half-demon, but too stupid to realise that he could use some of Yanma's abilities. Either way, Rowan didn't know, surprisingly enough. They wanted to dwell on this thought a little longer, but put all their focus on the task at hand.

Another pebble fell and bounced off into the hallway.

"We're doing it!" Chyuuichi suddenly yelled out.

Rowan shushed him.

"Huh?" A guard's voice sounded from the other side of the corridor, and footsteps quickly followed. A few seconds later, the armoured Paladian found himself observing the chamber. "Doing what?" he asked, nervously.

"Phew." Rowan brushed sweat off their forehead, another card landing in the middle. "Playing Macau. Chyuuichi's gone crazy and thinks he has some invisible spirit helping him play."

Chyuuichi gulped, blinking twice. "Exactly! I'm no liar."

The guard fixed his hat and stepped in. The cracked wall was covered with a painting, the same as the one that happened to find itself in the chamber. One of the first Paladians who came up with the idea to house prisoners in such luxury had a child who drew this ridiculous drawing. Either way, he was too proud to let it go, so you could imagine what Rowan's thoughts were when looking at this three-colour masterpiece, a depiction of a very crude oak.

"I know you're stupid." The guard spoke. "But with how we played Macau last time I'm inclined to believe it."

"I'm sorry, what?" Rowan asked.

"I wanted more for breakfast." Chyuuichi scratched the back of his neck. "I lost the bet."

"What bet? Nothing would've changed anyway." the guard shook his head.

"I know ya'd give in!" Chyuuichi raised his eyebrows. "Eh?"

Rowan subtly gulped. Eyes landed on the guard again. "Yell out again and we're both dead." they thought, fist clenched in Chyuuichi's direction.

"Anyway." The guard cleared his throat. "One of the castle guards strolled by to tell me that you two are needed for something."

"Huh?" Chyuuichi tilted his head.

"For what?" Rowan asked.

"No clue, but he said it was pretty urgent, according to the King's words."

"The King's?!" Rowan stood up.

"Haven't you ever taken a peek at everything happening outside?" the guard shook his head and folded his arms.

Rowan and Chyuuichi looked at each other.

"A few guards are standing by the west-wing exit," he uttered, before stepping to the side. "I'll be waiting there as well."

***

Stepping through the hallways of the castle, hands tied behind their backs, the two were led by six different guards, all wearing a patterned cape or cloth over their Paladian armour. Big, square-like rooms were seen from the balconies on the side, separated by the pillars, with windows ever-present, although too foggy to see anything outside. Either way, they headed through the brown door and eventually found themselves treading an arched, marble passage, with multiple black squares separated by railways and fences. Staring out revealed some of the Royals and alike, discussing the King's arrival, and some event that Rowan couldn't necessarily make out.

"I remember now," Rowan uttered, with Chyuuichi turning his head. "The traitor's letter was meant to be read by the King. Don't you recall Prune's words?" they asked.

Chyuuichi slowly nodded.

"The final decision lies in his hands. They were unable to kill us, and if that isn't going to be the outcome, then it's surely going to be Atomu who loses his life today."

"Are we finally going to see him?" Chyuuichi asked.

"Would you like to watch him die?" Rowan answered.

Chyuuichi stared down, gulping.

Two guards stopped, signalling to the others. The big door waiting at the end, dark and brooding was opened by the pair. It slid across the ground and sooner than later, another gleam shone in. It was more of a copper-colour shine, coming from the massive chandelier hanging in the middle, and from the tinted window panes at each side, cascading over a rather small group of Paladians sitting on the stands.

Rowan and Chyuuichi were pushed towards the middle and denied entry to the sides or anything else in the rather spacious area. The Tributal glanced up, analyzing the triangular patterns of the ceiling, while Chyuuichi's eyes were glued to the hard, cold floor.

"Sit down," Prune informed, spreading his hands to the sides. Rowan and Chyuuichi made their way to the two chairs of the square, separated by a large wooden pole in the middle. As they sat, their hands were cuffed to the sides, with Rowan grounding their teeth and Chyuuichi making a strange expression with an ache which attacked his wrist.

Guards were standing by the respective chairs, staring forward.

"It's tight," Rowan uttered, angrily, even though nothing would be fixed.

Chyuuichi breathed out, glancing up.

"Bring the demon in." he continued.