Chapter 5: The Malefic Reign
From the yonder open balcony, poised without the stately confines and graced by malevolence and perched upon the very threshold of the regal palace, Hadeon casts his ardent gaze downward. His piercing eyes, tinted with a majestic hue of royal purple, traverse the expanse of the sprawling terrain that stretches before him—a realm ensconced within the military bastion's very heart. Within the vast expanse of land whereupon three legions of valiant soldiers stand, their leaders resplendent before their respective cohorts.
Alas, a sombre countenance befalls the visage of Hadeon, a furrowed brow betrays his discontent, for the spectacle afore him fails to meet his lofty expectations. His watchful eyes, with an air of consternation, discern the absence of the remaining eight legions, whose presence he deems incumbent upon his auspicious return, are regrettably absent from the scene, a disheartening sight that ill befits his sovereign return.
"Hark, Cethin of the Grimshaw, I do summon thee forth." declared Hadeon, his words laced with impatience and a venomous sneer. Cethin, a towering figure bedecked in obsidian armor, took measured strides forward, his imposing presence commanding attention. Upon the earthen floor, he knelt, his right hand finding solace upon his noble chest while his head stooped low in deference. "Your Majesty," he intoned, his voice a humble offering.
Hadeon, with a gaze akin to a hawk's piercing scrutiny, interrogated Cethin, his eyes narrowing in a manner befitting an inquisitor probing a felonious soul. "Answer me this query: Wherefore reside the remaining legions?" The question hung heavy in the air, pregnant with the weight of expectation.
Without pause or hesitation, Cethin replied, his words swift as an arrow finding its mark. "They were dispatched on a noble errand, your Majesty, embarked upon the northern void with purpose and resolve," came his dutiful response, steadfast and unwavering in its loyalty.
"Ah, 'tis as I suspected! William, the orchestrator of their ventures," mused Hadeon, his voice a mixture of expectancy and underlying bitterness. With eyes that bore into Cethin's very soul, Hadeon anticipated the confirmation he sought. "Verily, speaketh the truth, my loyal subject. Has he, perchance, bestowed upon them individual undertakings that shall consume the passing of no less than four lunar cycles?"
"Yes, your Majesty," Cethin replied with measured deference, his voice carrying the weight of truth. "In his wisdom, William hath indeed assigned unto them distinct quests, each demanding a span of no less than four lunar cycles to complete."
Hadeon's jaw, taut and rigid, clenched with a steely resolve, while his very aura simmered with a tempestuous displeasure. The weight of frustration hung like a heavy cloak upon his regal frame, for the actions of William, His very aura, that ethereal manifestation of his innermost essence, seethed with a potent mixture of ire and discontent, had stirred a tempest within his noble heart.
"Tsk, soothly my intuition has proven true. I did suspect that his regard for my words was but a mirthful jest," Hadeon ruminated within the confines of his own mind. A sense of vindication washed over him, mingling with a bitter undercurrent of disappointment.
"Verily, it appears that your benevolent King, in his audacity, hath seen fit to issue reign unto you all. It hath come to my attention, in his audacious presumption, deigns to bestow commands upon each and every one of you," Hadeon brooded in silent contemplation. His thoughts, akin to a tempestuous storm, churned with an incensed fervor as he grappled with the implications of such actions. For, in the realm of loyalty and fealty, to accept the beckoning call of another, to heed the directives of a different master than one's rightful sovereign, was an abhorrent transgression that stirred within him feelings of revulsion and disdain.
"Are you all aware, that in following these orders, you commit acts of treason against thy true sovereign? To yield thy allegiance to any other than thy rightful king is an abhorrent transgression that fills my very being with repugnance and abhorrence," The very notion of such treasonous actions committed by his loyal subjects, under the sway of an interloper, kindled a seething fire within Hadeon's noble heart.
Donovan, the master of deceit, perceived with a discerning eye that there would be no favorable resolution to assuage Hadeon's seething wrath, nor would the flames of his anger abate swiftly. His astute mind foresaw a storm brewing, dark and foreboding, with no clear path towards tranquility. In this tempestuous moment, Donovan shifted his gaze to his left, where the figure of Viviane stood, her countenance etched with tension, her lithe form poised on the precipice of unease.
As Donovan's eyes alighted upon her, he discerned a cunning glimmer within her gaze, a spark that bespoke of clandestine machinations taking shape within her mind. Despite the palpable fear that enveloped the atmosphere in the wake of their ruler's wrath, Donovan perceived in Viviane's visage a calculating expression, one that hinted at a hidden agenda unfurling beneath the surface.
Viviane, keenly attuned to the weight of another's gaze upon her, gracefully redirected her own gaze to the right, where Donovan stood, his subtle head shake conveying a silent plea for restraint. A flicker of understanding passed between them, an unspoken message urging caution. However, Viviane, possessing an indomitable spirit and a stubborn nature, was not easily dissuaded from her course.
Summoning her courage, she stepped forward, her voice laced with a measured blend of respect and conviction. "Your Majesty," she began, her words punctuated by a respectful pause, "if I may humbly interject--"
Viviane's words were abruptly stifled as Hadeon's wrath surged forth, his anger erupting with a thunderous force. His voice, filled with fury, bellowed through the air, drowning out her attempted interjection. "Silence your tongue, Viviane!" Hadeon's words lashed out, a whip of anger slicing through the air. "If you truly value your own well-being, I strongly advise you to seal your lips. I have not granted them permission to speak."
Each word was accentuated with deliberate slowness, carrying a warning tone that hung heavy in the air. Viviane, taken aback by the sheer force of Hadeon's anger, found herself silenced and chastised by his powerful rebuke. The weight of his command lingered, a stark reminder of the boundaries she dared to approach but was not permitted to cross.
Viviane, as if swept by a bluster of disquiet, took a measured step backward, her head bowed low in a gesture of subservience, striving to evade the searing intensity of Hadeon's eyes that bore into her form with a relentless scowl. His gaze, ablaze with a mixture of ire and scorn, cast upon her a weighty judgment, prompting her to retreat into the shadowed recesses of diminished presence.
Witnessing Viviane's retreat, Hadeon, wearied by the confrontation and ensnared by a flicker of vexation, allowed a gleam of irritation to dance within his pupils, his eyes briefly rolling in exasperation, like tempest-tossed optics of exasperation. Swiftly, he diverted his gaze away from the sight of Viviane's figure, seeking solace in the closure of his own lids, as if to shroud himself momentarily from the tumultuous emotions that had coursed through his veins. Drawing in a breath, deep and laden with the ephemeral calm of a gentle zephyr, he exhaled, releasing the weight of his frustrations into the ephemeral currents of the air.
"Cethin," Hadeon's voice, resonating with the authority befitting a sovereign, pierced the silence like a clarion call. "I have a formidable task for you, one that befits your steadfast loyalty. I charge you with the responsibility of summoning the remaining leaders of each squadron, those who are yet absent from our presence, to relinquish their current missions. Bear unto them the tidings that their true sovereign, their rightful king, had graced our realm. Impart unto them that I, their sovereign, desire a private audience within the sanctum of my throne room once I have concluded my discourse with Kairos. Do you grasp the full import of my words?"
Cethin, rising from his humble station upon the ground, elevated his chin, fixing his gaze upon Hadeon's alluring yet domineering stance. A reverent determination shone within his eyes, his visage a testament to unwavering loyalty. With a voice laced with unwavering fealty and reverence, he responded, "I do heed your words, O Majesty, for they hold the weight of your sovereign will. you command shall be executed with utmost alacrity and precision, as I pledge myself to faithfully fulfil your bidding."
In the wake of an expectant pause, Hadeon's lips part, releasing a tender hum that permeates the air like a silken whisper. "Hmm." he murmurs, his voice a harmonious blend of reassurance and command. "You are granted leave to embark upon your noble task without the fetters of delay." Firm and resolute, Cethin, in the face of this proclamation, inclines his head with measured determination, a visage etched with purpose.
Yet, in an instant, the fabric of the world undergoes a profound shift, as though the very essence of existence were attuned to the unfolding drama. Cethin, with a fluid motion that betrays years of honed skill, retrieves his concealed sword, once nestled securely behind his broad back. With a decisive flourish, his blade descends upon the grounf, puncturing the soil with a resounding thud, a proclamation of his unwavering resolve.
As if awoken by this audacious act, a tempestuous surge of stygian energy, thick and foreboding, surges forth, infusing the atmosphere with an uncanny mystique. The air itself crackles with an enigmatic aura, an ethereal tapestry woven of unseen forces. And behold! A beguiling luminescence, a mélange of shadowed greys and inky blacks, emerges in a graceful dance beside the stalwart figure of Cethin. It expands gradually, akin to the unfurling petals of a nocturnal blossom, a portal to realms yet uncharted.
A gentle zephyr, its touch feather-light and benign, caresses the figures gathered near the burgeoning gateway, as though nature itself lends its benediction to this extraordinary juncture. Cethin, withdraws his sword from the ground's embrace, resheathing it with a deftness born of experience. With measured determination, he strides forward, his steps imbued with purpose, traversing the threshold of the nascent portal, a gateway to both destinies untold and trials yet to be faced. In a moment that seems to hang in the balance, he vanishes from sight, his silhouette blending seamlessly into the tapestry of the unknown, leaving naught but an echo of valor in his wake.
As Cethin's silhouette fades into the veiled recesses of the unknown, the portal, as if acknowledging the fleeting nature of its existence, begins to shrink in size, its grandeur diminishing, until it resembles but a mere pinprick upon the vast canvas of reality. Then, like a wisp of smoke dissolving into the morning haze, it dissolves completely, evaporating into the ethereal currents, leaving behind only the imprint of wonder upon the memories of those who bore witness to its magnificent genesis.
"Monique, come here would you? For a brief interlude, I beseech your presence to inquire of a matter of import." Hadeon's voice, resonant and commanding, pierced the air with regal authority, even as his gaze, undaunted and steadfast, remained ensnared by the sight of his vast legions, an awe-inspiring tapestry of martial might.
In response to Hadeon's entreaty, the maiden with tresses of resplendent coral hue, Monique, took a measured step forward, her dainty footfall a dance of anticipation and trepidation. With a concealed anxiousness nesting within her breast, she stood resolute at Hadeon's side, her heart aflutter with the delicate cadence of anticipation. In the presence of his overwhelming aura, a celestial maelstrom that could bring even the stoutest souls to their knees, Monique endeavoured to shield herself from its tempestuous might, refusing to be cowed by the weight of intimidation.
As she stood in the shadow of Hadeon's commanding presence, Monique's countenance bore the marks of both reverence and defiance. Her teal-coloured hues, shimmering like verdant pools, sought to meet Hadeon's gaze without faltering, a testament to her unwavering mettle. With a resolve that belied her frame, she steeled herself against the intoxicating allure of his regality, refusing to be diminished in his presence.
"Are you acquainted with the identity of Sybil?" Hadeon inquired, his piercing gaze descending to meet Monique's eyes fraught with trepidation. "Indeed, your majesty," Monique responded, her voice tinged with a mix of deference and trepidation. "She is a revered stalwart of Aetherius, an arbiter of wisdom and a seer who unveils the secrets of impending calamity, why does his majesty pose such a query?" Monique's response, though offered with dutiful obedience, stirred within her a perplexing bewilderment, for the unusual nature of Hadeon's question begot confusion within her heart.
"Verily, There exists a captivating parallelism between the two of you, Monique. Not only do you bear a remarkable semblance, but both of you possess an exceptionally proficient aptitude." Hadeon declared, a mischievous smirk adorning upon his lips, before diverting his gaze once more to the resplendent legions before him. "Kairos, she who bears the title of Duchess, had ever shown scant fondness for acepting disciples, especially those of yout kind, dear soothsayers. Verily, she does harbor an aversion towards your kind, surpassing all other disdain she may hold. Thus, it baffles me that you, of all kinds, have found refuge under her tutelage." Monique's head tilted in puzzlement, her thoughts swirling in a maelstrom of bewilderment. Duchess Kairos? an aversion to disciples? A vehement dislike for soothsayers? Did she hear right? Hadeon's words perplexed her, for they seemed to paint a portrait of a person entirely different from the figure she knew.
"I...uhm...I humbly beseech your royal presence to grant me pardon, for I find myself ensnared in a web of perplexity," Monique faltered, her voice laced with uncertainty. She stood before the regal figure, unsure which matter to address amidst the labyrinthine maze of her mind's bewilderment.
"your state of bewildered perturbation persuades me to infer that you will surely cast doubt upon the veracity of my forthcoming discourse, wherein I reveal that Kairos, your noble mentor, had engage herself in the grim art of slaying soothsayers during the turbulent epoch of the Great Firmanent war. And as a grisly testament to her deeds, she did seize their eyes, turning them into grotesque trophies, tongues plucked from their very mouths, fashioning them into personalized trophies, a testament to her sinister exploits. Even now, the memory persists within mine own recollection, wherein she ensconced these grotesque relics within the verdant confines of her sanctuary, The Greenhouse."
Hadeon, with an air of nostalgic revelry, emitted a jovial chuckle, as if he traversed the corridors of time, reliving a cherished bygone era spent in the company of a dear friend. Monique, captivated by profound shock and disquietude, beheld Hadeon with eyes akin to saucers, her gaze ensnared by the gravity of his depiction concerning the enigmatic past of her esteemed mentor, Duchess Kairos. Leaving her adrift upon a sea of disquietude.
Monique, with a quivering gulp, summoned her resolve and cleared her voice of any vestiges of stammering. "Oh, It seems to transpire that the revered Duchess Kairos has veiled from us the tidings of her involvement in the grisly annihilation of soothsayers, Moreover, the ghastly spectre of her employing their lifeless forms as relics, interred within the sanctuary of her verdant greenhouse, has been concealed from our knowledge"
In response, Hadeon, with a swiftness akin to the wind's whispered caress, turned his head once more, fixing his gaze upon Monique. Confusion, like an artist's brush stroke, adorned Hadeon's otherworldly visage, creating a tableau of enigmatic celestial beauty that mirrored the depths of his perplexity. "She did not? Hmn, I was well aware that Duchess Kairos possessed a proclivity for boasting, she even inclined to parade her triumphs over the soothsayers, Brandishing their plucked eyes and lingual appendages with her bare hands as proof of her successful conquest. But, it appears that the relentless march of time has wrought changes upon her very nature, transmuting the essence of her erstwhile disposition." The conundrum surrounding Duchess Kairos deepened, As Monique found herself entangled in a maze of conflicting emotions and uncharted truths.
"Indeed, Your Majesty, it appear that the annals of time have witnessed the conclusion of the Great Firmanent War two billion years hence, and in its wake, the fervor and prowess that once coursed through Duchess Kairos' being may have slumbered into a state of dormancy" Monique said.
Hadeon, in solemn accord, nodded his head, a gesture that bespoke his agreement. "I concur. But, if you were there to bear witness in her prime, I dare declare that you would have been enraptured by the sheer magnificence of her presence. For she, the Mistress of War Tactics and the erstwhile Executioner, possesses an awe-inspiring prowess."
"Oh, The reliefs that floods my being! Me in Awe? I Declare I would be beset by such dire consternation, your Majesty! pray to the abyss that I was not begotten in the age that bore witness to their eminence!" Monique exclaimed in a fervent solace within her thoughts, all the while while maintaining a serene countenance by the side of the Maligned King
"Anyways, What years have you traversed upon this abyssal coil?"Hadeon cast a fleeting glance towards Monique ere diverting his gaze back to his subjects. "I came into being at the time of Cassiopeia's genesis." Hadeon mused tranquily, "Then, you are but a mere Three hundred million years in age, you are exceedingly youthful, perchance the youngest in this vast realm."
Monique, in a state of perpetual astonishment for the umpteenth time, found her calm facade shattering once more like a fragile porcelein, unveiling a visage that is etched in surprise. The revelation that she stood as the most youthful entity in the entire realm reverberated through her very being. Yet, her inquisitive mind could not help but yearn for further elucidation. If she, the youngest, stood in awe at her own tender age, what then of Hadeon? How ancient was he, specifically? And what of the esteemed Duchess Kairos and the rest of the realm's denizens? Monique's knowledge whispered to her that Hadeon had already existed before the inception of time itself. Thus, does the calculus of his age commence at the very birth of the cosmic chronology, Known as Time? How long did it take for them to conceive the concept of time, to shape it into existence? Interrogations surged within Monique's consciousness, akin to tidal waves crashing upon a tempestuous shore, as she endeavored to unravel the enigma of each query.
"I have remained oblivious to my tender standing until this very moment, and I express my gratitude for your illumination, Your Majesty." Monique murmured with deference, inclining a head and offering a slight bend of her kness as an exhibition of courtesy, "It is not an inconsequential revelation worthy of gratitude" Hadeon waved his hand dismissively, casting aside Monique's words. "Oh, and before I Dismiss you, There remain a final inquiry solely for you."
Monique tilted her head inquisitively, a subtle tilt denoting her curiosity "What might be the nature of this final query, Your Majesty?" she inquired, her voice laced with a subtle intrigue. Hadeon slowly turned his head to face her, an unsettling smile playing upon his lips, sending a chill down Monique's spine and causing her heart to flutter with trepidation. "Might you be inclined to assume the mantle of authority over the Seer's Tower?" he stated, his words carrying an eerie resonance. "For you see, the tower is in dire need of an individual blessed with the prescient ability to foretell the impending perils that threaten the formidable army of Aetherius. And I hold the conviction that your unique talents would prove invaluable in such a task." As Hadeon's eyes flickered with a malevolent gleam, a sense of sinister delight danced within them.
"P-pardon, Your Majesty? Me? To be a prophetess of the esteemed Seer's Tower? I Don't….." Monique stammered, taken aback by the unexpected proposition. She caught sight of the displeasure etching itself upon Hadeon's countenance as her initial response wavered in uncertainty. Hastily realising her misstep, she swiftly corrected herself, her voice brimming with feigned confidence. "Of course! How could I ever doubt such a tremendous honour bestowed upon me? I am eternally grateful that His Majesty has deemed me worthy to fulfil the esteemed role of the Prophetess!" Monique's words, laced with an air of unwavering certainty, sought to assuage the displeasure she had inadvertently elicited.
A contended smile graced upon his lips, a glint of triumph dancing in his eye, "Splendid." He proclaimed. "You shall commence your duties on the morrow. For now, I bid you to become acquainted with your new environment in the southern void, where your abode, the illustrious Seer's tower, Awaits." His words resonated with a sense of authority, leaving no room for objection or delay.