[Inside the Phantom and his Mourner's palace. . .]
"His name: Behedet."
Behedet. . . Why do I feel like I've heard that name before. . .
Emory shook off the unknown feeling and advanced alone. He watched Francine and Siole wait by the entrance, shyly rubbing their shoulders.
The castle consisted of cold white tile and thick inner walls. A majestic twirling staircase beautified the middle, and many hallways built themselves off to the side.
The butleress said in calm manner, "In the castle, there are six levels, the first five belonging to the Mourners, and the last to the Phantom."
"The Phantom is in this castle? Right now?"
She shook her head. "Only in spirit. His real body resides in an unknown land. Only those at the level of the Mourners can go visit him. We peasants may only bathe in his blood."
So the blood outside belongs to the Phantom? Interesting. I wonder how big he is, since there's many fountains filled with his blood.
As they continued walking, Emory asked the question, "Do you know what the Mourner is going to ask me?"
"No."
"Do you know if they let people leave this place? You know, for personal reasons."
"People can leave, yes. But only for reasons related to your Specter. You don't have one yet, so you will not be able to exit the Mandate until you hear it."
"There's no persuasion? No begging?"
"No."
"When will I hear my Specter?"
"At seventeen years old. Like everyone else."
"Oh."
The conversation ended right as they reached an immense door. Sounds of the dead oozed from the wood and trembled Emory's ears.
The butleress knocked. "Fifth Mourner Elocien, Fourth Mourner Behedet, Emory Vaughan has arrived. May he come in?"
They heard a stout voice come from the room. "Yes."
She opened the door slowly and moved out of the way. "Don't die in there."
"Don't die. . ?"
Her body vanished from view.
Emory reluctantly turned and walked into a room twice the size of his own. There was no bed, no furniture, or any object that would "home-ify" a chamber.
It was a vast and crystal-like space. One single chair rested in the back, and a man sat on it. Beside him was another man, who had his arms behind his hips.
The one on the chair beckoned forth. "Don't be shy."
Emory walked inside, the sound of his footsteps reverberating on the white tile. "Hello. . ."
The seated Mourner's face came into clarity. He had long black hair that went past his shoulders as well as two ghastly looking eyes and a set of thin lips. He was somewhat attractive but had more of a meditative appearance.
"If you didn't already know, I'm Elocien, Fifth Mourner to the Phantom. Pleased to meet you." He rested a hand on his chest. The man wore a short thobe cutting off at his bottom half. Instead of legs, his lower side was ethereal, like steam and smoke.
The one upright was dissimilar, with his clothing being a robe cut off at the arms, revealing mighty muscles. A bow and arrow strapped to his back, and his hair waved in tidal patterns.
"Behedet, Fourth Mourner to the Phantom."
The aura rubbing off of Behedet was something Emory felt a hint of familiarity to. "What may I be of service to?" He bowed.
Elocien laughed, "Our first meeting and you're so very formal. I like that! We don't see much of it in the Mandate, especially with the children."
Behedet didn't find it funny. "Kneel."
"H-Huh?"
"Kneel, for you have been blessed with the presence of two Mourners."
Emory plummeted to the ground. Elocien's expression did not change much. "Always so tense, Behedet." He waved. "Anyways, you were called here because you're a little different compared to the others."
Different from the others? Oh how I hate being different. . .
Elocien stood—or for better usage, floated—to Emory. He paced around the boy a couple of times, "Mm"-ing and "Ah"-ing as he did. "Lay down on the tile."
"Okay. . ."
The situation reminded him of his time with Mirielis before the dream. I wonder if she's really okay. Oh yeah, what even was Contrivance? She kept screaming it. . .
". . ."
"Alright, Mr. Vaughan. If you answer these next few questions correctly for us. . ."
"He means to our liking, there is no correct answer," Behedet added.
"Yeah, what he said. . . If done right, you can freely go. The reason you're lying is because we can tell if you fib or not based on your Spirit and evolving Specter."
"Alright. . ."
Elocien floated above him. "Ahem. Question one! Do you know what the Vizier Squads are? If yes, where do we find them?"
Emory racked his brain extensively but failed to recall the words. "I don't."
Elocien looked over to Behedet. The latter nodded.
"Alright, next question. What do you feel when I say the words 'Great Sacrificial Era.' "
Great Sacrificial Era? I've never heard that a day in my life. "Uh. . . It could mean a time of surrender and offering? I'm not sure. I didn't really feel anything special when you said them."
"Good enough answer," Behedet muttered. Elocien smiled.
"How many Mandates are you familiar with?"
"Just one. This."
"Last two. What do you know about an Entity named Contrivance?"
Emory paused. Contrivance. . . It felt so close yet so far. "Back in my city, people from the military came and said they were going to check me out because of chances that I was tainted with Contrivance. I didn't fully understand what they were talking about, though."
"Is that all?" Behedet raised his voice.
"Yes."
"Liar! You know more," he shouted. It took Elocien's powerful gaze to mildly restrain Behedet from going further. "What are you hiding from us?"
"Nothing! I swear! I don't know what Contrivance is!"
Being choked was nothing short of horrible. Emory flailed in Behedet's mighty grasp as the Mourner wrung the boy's neck. His lungs spasmed repeatedly.
"You spoke with Contrivance. . ."
"I–cough–I didn't sir! If I–I did, no memory stays with me. I promise, I have no clue who or what Contrivance is!"
I only know about Sylphossia, but she's a servant to Contrivance, not the Entity himself. Would that count? Probably not. . . Emory thought. Why am I so scared of telling them about her?
"Behedet, the boy tells no lie." Elocien gripped Behedet's wrist. "We have one question left, let's not end on a sour note. Remember, this is my questioning period."
He lowered his tone and narrowed his eyes. "Don't go out of line."
Behedet reluctantly let go and backed away. "Understood."
Elocien reverted back to his older self. "Sah, here is the final question. I'm sorry about Behedet choking you. Contrivance is a deep topic within our Mandate. We revere him, but also fear him. He is truly unpredictable."
Emory gulped a lump in his throat. I just want to leave. . .
"There is a name circulating around this Era that shouldn't be, and his children have been in direct conflict with the Mandates for centuries. His sole being threatens the safety of the Phantom. A vile, scum of a fellow, he is. Have you heard of someone named. . ."
They waited anxiously.
"Julius Bersebus?"
Emory opened his mouth to answer. . .
. . . .
Elocien stepped up and pointed a deathly looking scythe at the boy when he wouldn't respond. "Speak, child. If you don't, we'll have to kill you."
Emory's eyes began to swirl. Then his body twitched and convulsed. Behedet shot an arrow pointed at the lad's leg but missed.
Emory wasn't lying down anymore!
The Mourners alerted and spread apart. "Find him!" Behedet thundered.
Elocien darted his eyes to every corner in the room, sweat running down his face. "The roof!"
Like a spider, Emory crawled on the glacial roof, a twisted expression on his face. His mouth fell and out came manic laughter.
"Hahahahahhaahhahahahahahahaha!"
Soon, the walls formed mouths and did the same. The floor. The ceiling. The door. Everything in the room blew up in chortle.
Behedet and Elocien froze. They plummeted and clasped their hands.
Emory let loose off of the roof and landed on the ground. His eyes weren't red anymore.
They were brown.
His face wasn't that of a child anymore.
It was an adult's face. Beautiful. Clean. Uncanny.
She's here. . . Now? O' Phantom, did you know about this? You could have warned us! Elocien's trembling thoughts spun.
"T–Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Second Servant of Contrivance, Wishbringer of Sustenance. . ."
"Emory" chuckled and said, "From you guys, I prefer to be called Retainer to the All-King. It has more gravitas, don't you think?"
Elocien and Behedet prostrated. "Of course! Thank you for your mercy, Retainer to the All-King!"
"Emory" paced around the two. "You see, my Master's developed a liking to the boy I'm occupying currently. And because of this, he's forbidden you from placing any filthy hands on him."
He (Sylphossia) tilted his head and smiled. "Understand?"
"Yes, we understand!"
He looked at Elocien. "Good. Explain to me why you had this chat with him."
Behedet opened his mouth but was shushed. "Hide your face. I don't want your ugly sculpture to stain my eyes."
"Yes. . . I deeply apologize, Lady Sylphossia."
Elocien whimpered, "We interrogated him because of all future Hierarchs we have in the Mandate, his Spirit and Specter were the only ones we could not get into."
He knelt lower. "We suspected someone of larger scale may be involved, like a Liege."
"Emory" materialized a throne and sat on it. "Good assumption! My, the Abolition Mandate might be the new Sagacity Mandate with all this intelligence and critical thinking."
He rested his head on an arm sideways. "You're right, there was involvement by someone greater. Actually, someones greater. Many Lieges are interested in the lad."
"Emory" counted his fingers. "Master, Maisedes, Geronim, Rothias, Baman, Esther, the list goes on. Heh heh, even Empress Aspasia noticed him!"
Behedet twitched and thought, The Almighty Empress Aspasia Gerea knows of Emory Vaughan?! I did sense hints of an Almighty when I forced him to recite the Chronicle years back. Was it her?
He held back immense fear.
"Emory's" tone subdued. "And with that came the interest of one wretched man."
Elocien muffled an answer, "Julius Bersebus. . ."
"Yes. Do not dare approach Emory again after this. Let the boy climb through the Hierarch ranks. Once he does, he'll come straight to Master, and the Bersebus Dynasty will stay fallen."
"Emory" snickered. "Their strongest members are Aulus and Clovia, but they also have access to the Houtis Military, where a woman named Constance Wales resides. They are all sorcerers and sorceresses none of you are ready to fight. Gain strength, Mourners. Make Master proud. Do better than his other Mandates."
"Yes, Retainer to the All-King, Lady Sylphossia."