Aegis

“There once was a mother, her warmth for all to embrace

Her love shone through even the darkest of disgrace

But her children were feared, for their power defied the Stars

And so she wept until naught remained but scars

However... her story ends not here.

Such pain, such despair, would invoke a wrath most dear

Her beloved held her tight, fury wrought true in its eyes

And so it bared its light, rampaging all through the skies

The Star of greed was deprived of its most sacred treasure

The Star of decay was starved of its splendor

The Star of carnage was impaled and drained of blood

The Star of revolution was crushed into a tiny, frail bud

None were spared, none were forgiven

Thus it came to be known as the Slaughterer of the Heavens.”

- The Nebulas

———

The Knight

“I daresay that is quite the dangerous question,” Dariel interrupts, shoving himself awkwardly in front of the Knight so as to face the strange new gentleman. And for good reason: His appearance is quite different from the common Polus citizen. Long, blood red robes cover the entirety of his guise - patterns of flora sewn on the hem - and an unusual mask obscures his face. It is an ornate mask, and delicate carvings are etched all about the surface. However, what draws the most attention is the vibrant rose blooming from where the right socket should be. The left contains an eye of crimson and a pupil glaring with a serpentine quality.

The Knight is not certain, but there is something different about that rose. It has the same appearance, the same fragrance, and yet it oozes a sinister aura—as if the bloom is something else entirely. As if it is screaming out in plea, begging to be ripped out and granted a swift end.

Dariel’s body becomes defensive, and his brow furrows in distrust; it is clear something about the man is unnerving him, but he doesn’t appear to know exactly why. Still, he maintains a clear boundary and speaks with not a tremble. It does not prevent him, however, from breaking out into a nervous sweat. “A question, I should say, we are not inclined to answer—especially to an odd fellow such as yourself. Who exactly are you? I don’t recognize that appearance, and I’ll have you know I’m very familiar with the nobles allowed in this booth.”

“Oh dear, there is no need for such hostility,” the masked man chuckles. “I am but an admirer of the arts. The esteemed stewards of this theatre have been ever so kind as to grant me permission to peruse their performances from atop this view.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Dariel grumbles.

“Ah, but it is true. You see, I am the maestro of a humble flower boutique: ‘The Floral Bloom.’ It is a quaint boutique, one nestled away from the rush and excitement of the city, but nonetheless I take pride in the quality of my art.”

The man gestures around him. “Why, my darlings can be seen at this very moment. Beautiful, are they not? I have spared no effort to cultivate an arrangement befitting this fine theatre.”

And indeed, his words are true for the walls of their private viewing, and the theatre as a whole, are embellished with delicate flowers of red and gold. They blossom together - conjoining in twisting stalks - until a portrait of a single, merged bloom is budding out into the world—petals spread out and drawing all into its aroma.

“I… see,” Dariel says with an apologetic look. He is still wary of the man, but the crease in his eyes has aslightly eased. “Do forgive me for being so suspicious towards a new face—er, mask I suppose.”

“Please, my good sir: You have nothing to be apologetic about,” the man replies, his voice rumbling with a deep, silky bass. “I understand, I really do. To be cautious of the unfamiliar is but our base instinct. It is our impulse to be hesitant towards change, and I do admit my appearance can be rather eccentric. But is that not what makes life - us, as individuals - so unique? And there truly is no shortage of uniqueness in the capital; it is why I have settled here despite the rather… prudent reception from the locals.”

“You moved into the capital recently?” Dariel asks. “That’s rare, especially in these times unless you’re a knight recruit. The process must have been quite the slog.”

“On the contrary, I found it rather simple. Very simple indeed.”

There is an eerie charisma about the man. His polite speech, his charming voice, and the manner in which he carries himself… are all to bring about a deceitful solace. The Knight has no doubt; it can recognize a fellow swindler. But this one’s purpose is far beyond the likes of mere manipulation. No, his facade denotes a more degenerate cause.

“But I’m afraid I do must take offense over your prior statement,” he continues. “For why must a simple question be labeled as dangerous?”

“Um,” Dariel stammers, struggling to refute the man’s rebuttal. “Well, it’s rather inciteful, don’t you think?”

“Oh? How so?”

“It encourages unrest. Our nation is one dedicated to her word. Our beliefs, our values, our traditions… to question that devotion is to shake the very foundation of our identity, not to mention blatant heresy as well. If the Mother truly has abandoned us, then why grant the gift of Creation to the world? Why can we still use her power? Frankly, I find it hard to believe how anyone could be a nonbeliever with such clear evidence of her Will around us.”

But the man only cackles before Dariel’s firm assertion, uttering a hoarse cry as he feigns wiping a tear off his expressionless mask. “I believe you are confused. Why, I am an adherent of Cosmos as well. None are as devout as me, or so I tout. But there is a difference between blind obsession and an inquisitive faith.”

“Blind obsession?”

“Indeed,” he says with a snap of his finger. “You claim to understand the Mother. You think yourself knowledgeable of her wish. But is that truly the case? History is fickle; who is to say the words of one are not the twisted lies of another? It is our duty as her children to question the world around us - to decipher the truth hidden beneath - and yet you run around spouting doctrines not of your own. Have you ever sought to understand why the common faith is the way it is?”

“N-No—”

“No. You merely believed; you failed to know. What is that called, if not blind obsession?”

Dariel doesn’t say a word. He remains quiet, face downcast as he attempts to hold back a trembling fist.

“I, on the other hand, choose to think differently,” he continues, voice rising high with a fervor of a mad zealot. “I looked at the world, I looked at the skies above, and I witnessed a different purpose for us. I saw the suffering in this world, the love, darkness, hate, joy, and back then - when I was but young and ignorant - I cursed this existence for what it was: colorless. Bland. A miserable, rotting pile of filth and decay. Everything was but a monotonous expanse of grey, stretching endlessly as the people sunk further and further into their hopelessness. And yet, despite it all, Cosmos remained far out of reach. She continued to watch us fester.

“But, one day, I finally understood why we needed to endure such hardship, and it was then I was truly reborn. Amidst a field of bloom and torture, enlightenment came to me. It is my own realization, a unique duty of my own. And so it is that I seek to find others, to fulfill my sacred destiny.”

“What are you talking about—”

“You do not need to understand,” he interrupts, leaping from his seat and smothering Dariel’s mouth with his palm. “My question was not directed at you. It was never meant for you to stain with your ramblings. No, no, no, the answer I desire is from your companion—the one shrouded in darkness. The one immersed in an endless abyss of ink. You… tell me. Why do you think Cosmos has abandoned us?”

The man is dangerous. Not in might, not in power, but in his way of thought. If left alone, he will one day bring about terror. His beliefs will infect the masses, and so it is they will contribute to the spread of chaos. Even so, the Knight is a bit curious: What shall happen if it further feeds into his craze? It is not easy to break away from the common belief: perhaps it shall grant him a small piece of the truth.

“Rather than ponder over why she has left,” it says to him. “You should have asked whether she is still here. If she has ever departed in the first place.”

He freezes, scarlet eye alit with a glow threatening to break free, and then he collapses onto the floor: shaking. Groaning with a sensual ardor. He grovels onto his knees and takes the Knight’s hand with a gentle caress—staring at it as if it is an object worthy of divine worship.

“Ah,” he whispers. “My eye did not deceive me. Truly, you are the masterpiece I was looking for—my magnum opus.”

Dariel is utterly baffled before the display, and his body seizes up in shock before he finally regains his wit and attempts to drag the man away. But it is useless. He latches firm, desperate, and with a strength unbefitting of his gangly structure.

“Ugh, y-you’re being really quite disrespectful now,” the officer grunts. “If you don’t stop this now, then I am afraid I’ll have to resort to forceful measures—”

“It is ok, Dariel,” the Knight says with a raise of its free hand. “Actually, I would appreciate it if you were to take your leave first.”

“What? Are you sure about this?”

“I will handle it. Trust me, you know who I am.”

“But—”

“Dariel,” it asserts. “Please, this is for your own good.”

He sighs, concern still evident on his face, but he eventually gives in and begins walking away with slow, hesitant steps. “I don’t know what you plan to do, but… be careful. If there’s anything you need, the nearest guard outpost is only a corner away.”

“Thank you. Have a good evening, Dariel.”

“Yeah. You too.”

And with that, he is gone, leaving only the Knight and the masked man to be alone in the booth.

“Now then,” it says, voice no longer attempting to maintain a friendly tone. “It is time to reveal your true intentions.”

“… Hehehe,” he chuckles. “Why, I have but one desire. A small wish, really.”

“Get to the point.”

“Oh, very well. All I ask is that you come grace my humble boutique with your presence. I promise, it shall be an experience to remember.”