Your Holy Farce

Something was gravely wrong. He shouldn't be here.

"Is there something on my face?" The king said with his usual smile mimicked so perfectly. "It's unusual of thou to be present in this place."

"Nothing of that sort, Your Majesty. I was only perusing with the common folk."

A rather noticeable scoff escaped from the mage behind Sikir. "Common folk. Thine arrogance is still the same even after months of not seeing a single shred of your silhouette."

The shadow only shot a sidelong glance towards the mage, the slight contortion in her eye to imply the mage to close his mouth. It wasn't the first time Edfallas was pointed with that sort of glare, and usually he'd feel challenged but after what the assassin had just said to him, he bit his tongue.

What did Sikir mean when she spouted that the king had been usurped? That thought rolled around in his mind as Sikir turned back to face the supposed Hero of Hope.

"Forgive my insolence." The same voice that she usually carried around the king, bowing down once again never felt heavier for her. The lavish king waved his hand with his brilliant smile.

"No, no, raise thine head as ye may. I am only here to see how far of a progress we have done in abolishing these accursed tomes." Azra Faudwick said. Sikir nodded her head as she always did for her king, but with doubt perusing between her thoughts.

What happened last night was indeed real. What she did last night was indeed true. But His Majesty's presence here contradicted it. It made Sikir doubt what she had already established for a moment, but she remained forthright in the proof that her eyes and ears had accepted.

"Edfallas?"

"Ah, yes." The mage shirked out from his trance. "So far, we have been successful in safely removing approximately seventy-two grimoires. Most of them were rather impossible to de-spell."

"I see." The king hummed. "I thank you profusely. When all of this has been sorted, I shall reward you well."

"My pleasure, Your Majesty."

And the jolly king strode away, to the other corner of the library. Sikir would follow him usually, from a higher vantage or somewhere more hidden but the king's shadow only stared. Not in admiration, not in respect, but in awe and disdain.

The perfect reflection, the perfect copy, to the point that she was still doubting herself until now. One arm budging her to cut that fake in half, the other arm stopping her from doing so. His footsteps, his manners, his smile, all of it was just the same. But that wasn't him.

Yesterday was not a lie, as much as she somehow still didn't fully believe it. That witch couldn't lie to her, because even she didn't know all the details either. What foul sorcery begat this curse? A former adversary who never cleared their mind from anger? An old trap within this castle out of the many? Or was it a small snowball effect that they did not predict?

Sikir was mumbling to herself at this point. It was her duty to prevent any harm done to the king and she had failed her life-long task. That was equal to suicide, that was equal to been evicted from the country, that was equal to having everything in her life lose meaning.

A shadow without a body, a shadow without a sun, it would be no different than the darkness loathed by everyone.

Edfallas slammed his book atop Sikir's head. The light returned to her eyes.

"Before thee invict thineself into a state of unawareness, better thee explain what thee meant." He reprimanded. Sikir released the hold she had over the handle of her blade before turning her head.

"Naught a word to the rest." She warned. "Not even to the queen."

"Thou wish is always against the queen ever since this land's liberation. Remove your prejudice and concur again, Sikir."

"I do not..!" She glared, like icy knives were jutting out of her face. "Thou know'st the queen hath a shift in personality ever since then."

"And thou do knoweth that motherhood causes that, do you not?" The mage glared back. "You bear the coldest hands yet the most irrationally burning heart in this castle. I suggest you temper it so that no more further conflicts occur anymore, Flint..!"

The library was in silence. The king was fortunately no longer present within the expansive hall of knowledge. The other people who were sorting the books, who were quarantining the cursed tomes, brushed themselves away from the two.

Edfallas knew how much of a stubborn rock Sikir the Flint was. She'd only listen to Azra, even then she was still on a loose leash because of how carefree the king was or rather he naively put a lot of trust in her actions. Kyriaki had the most sense to make sure that leash never got off Sikir's neck at any point in time.

An old assumption lingering within the mage's head. Those two never really got along too well, yet it never broke out this badly. Perhaps it was the marriage. Sikir who doesn't even understand what love was, couldn't process the emotion of envy properly.

Like a child who held a knife to gut everything, a child that hasn't matured properly. That was who Sikir was, in the eyes of a mage who himself doesn't understand any practical concepts in life except grimoires and magic books.

Yet he wasn't stubborn himself. Stubbornness would get in the way of learning, so he averted his eyes first from the wry contest.

"I suffer no more of thou'st immaturity." He clicked his tongue, and Sikir didn't react at all. "Unless thou hast something important to tell of our predicament, then I suggest thee remove thyself from the archive of knowledge. You are disturbing our peace."

Contempt, briefly it flashed within her eyes before she roughly turned heels and stormed away, out from the library of Faudwick, out from the eyes of the people. A loud slam echoed, before silence loomed again. Like crickets at night, the fumblings of the other residents started.

A tired sigh escaped the mage's mouth. Edfallas knew that Sikir was too reliant on Azra to prove her existence in the world and it was a far too terrible thing. If Sikir's words resounded true, then he must be wary as well of his comrade in arms.

Edfallas sat back down on his chair and placed the book in his hands upon the dusted wooden desk with its drapey green cloth. His eyes darted to where the king had gone beforehand, a thought pondering in his mind.

It felt like a sunny day this morning when Edfallas woke up today. Now he could see the beginnings of a storm raining upon his soul on the horizon.

And the most unreliable person socially was the other one who knew of it. Terrific.