(POV: Otos Exemplar)
[Otos: Age 25 | Vanitas: Age 16 | Aretia & Justitia: Age 19]
(Motus Exemplar's Office - The Night of the Slaughterhouse Discovery)
I collapsed onto the dark leather sofa in my father's office. My clothes were still soaked with the rain of the Undercity, and the smell of rotting blood clung to my pores.
"Otos..." my father's voice was calm, cautious. "Otos, what is wrong with you?"
I looked up at him. He stood behind his massive wooden desk, watching me.
"What is the right thing, Father?" I asked in a hollow voice, one that did not sound like my own.
He looked into my eyes for a long time. He did not answer immediately. He turned and walked with slow, deliberate steps toward the liquor cabinet. He poured a glass of red wine, its color reminding me of what I had just seen. He walked toward the tall glass window overlooking the palace gardens and turned his back to me.
"My son..." Motus began in a hushed voice that tangled with the sound of the rain outside. "Right and wrong... justice and evil... all these things are determined by you. No one can determine them but yourself."
He took a slow sip from his glass. "And I know why you are asking me this."
My eyes widened. I stood up slowly. "What? Do you know... do you know about Vanitas's actions?!" I screamed, my voice slipping out of my control.
He did not turn around. "Of course I know. He is my son."
The blood froze in my veins.
"And the right thing for me is protecting my son from external dangers," my father said coldly. "As for you, Otos... what I know about my eldest son is that he cannot ignore things. Discipline forged him. That is why I will ask this of you as an order: do not act against Vanitas. Ignore him."
I looked at the floor, at the red fibers in the luxurious carpet. "Father... you did not see what I saw down there, in Cloacina. That... that..." The words choked in my throat. "It is a slaughterhouse!"
"I did not see, because I did not want to see," Motus interrupted me sternly.
I took a step toward him. "Dad... he was standing over torn corpses... smiling in pure ecstasy! He was not killing to survive, he was savoring death like a starving demon! How can we ignore this?"
No response.
Then Motus spoke while still staring into the darkness outside, his tone gradually losing its coldness: "He is a monster, Otos... I know that. But he is a monster carrying my blood. Are you asking me to draw my sword and execute my son who used to sleep in my embrace? I cannot abandon him... and that is why I chose to close my eyes."
"And what about the lives of the others?!" I screamed, slamming my hand against the back of the wooden chair. "My sisters? My mother? The family? You didn't even mention yourself!"
"I will protect them too."
"You are not listening to yourself, Dad!" I stepped closer to him, crossing all boundaries of respect. "How will you protect them from a monster living among us? How will you protect them from himself?"
My father turned suddenly. His eyes were bloodshot, furious, and shattered all at once. He violently hurled the glass of wine against the stone wall beside me.
The glass shattered, and the red liquid splattered onto my face like drops of blood.
"What do you want me to do, Otos?!" Motus screamed in my face, his voice trembling for the first time in my life. "How do I stop his advance? I cannot! He is not a strange man I can simply kill! I cannot execute the best choice!"
He grabbed me tightly by the collar, shaking me. "Otos... tell me if there is a solution! For I have been looking for one for a very long time!"
I looked at the floor. I had no answer.
Motus released me slowly. He took a step back. "Otos... the most appropriate choice for us right now is to wish for the success of his plan. Whatever it may be."
Silence reigned. I looked at the broken glass and the wine dripping down the wall.
"Get out," my father said, his eyes returning to the window. "I need time to myself."
I turned around. I placed my hand on the doorknob, and before opening it, I whispered: "Dad... did you talk to him?"
No response. He just stared out the window.
I closed the door behind me.
[Otos: Age 26 | Vanitas: Age 17 | Aretia & Justitia: Age 20]
Roaring applause filled the Great Hall in the Exemplar Palace. The crystal chandelier reflected the light onto hundreds of aristocratic faces.
"Congratulations on your graduation from the Royal Academy, first of your class, Elite Division, Combat Alchemy Branch... Vanitas Exemplar!"
The Academy Director's voice echoed through the brass speakers.
Vanitas stood on the marble podium. He wore a black graduation suit with golden stripes, looking like a flawless prince. He raised his champagne glass slowly, the perfect smile gracing his lips. The applause ceased instantly, as if an invisible hand had silenced them.
"Honorable guests... my family... and my friends," Vanitas began, his calm voice carrying vibrations of absolute authority. "Today, we leave the safe walls of the Academy. Some may think that stepping out of those gates means the end of our gathering, and the scattering of our goals in the hustle of life."
He paused for a second, and slowly passed his gaze over a group of young nobles standing together in the corner of the hall—those beneath whose skin he had planted terror, turning them into the pawns of his dark cult.
"But I assure you..." Vanitas smiled a barely visible smile, yet clearly encrypted for those who understood it. "That the Academy's walls were merely a training ground. Our departure today does not mean our endeavors will stop, or that our bonds will dissolve. It means... that our stage has finally expanded, to become the entire Kingdom. We have only just begun to work."
He raised the glass higher. "To the future."
"To the future!" the young nobles echoed in unison, carrying an enthusiasm lined with blind loyalty and terror.
Vanitas drank from his glass, and the applause erupted once more.
Vanitas stepped down from the podium. He began walking through the crowds. People scrambled to congratulate him.
A hand extended. He shook it.
A hand. A hand.
I was watching that hand. The slender, elegant hand, dripping with deformed blood that no one saw but me. The same hand I saw in the Cloacina basement, the same hand that tore away souls and shredded bodies, was now shaking the hands of the High Lords with warmth and affection.
A hand. Another hand.
Vanitas continued walking until he reached where Justitia stood. My back stiffened.
Vanitas opened his arms, and embraced Justitia in a warm, brotherly hug. I looked at Justitia's face over his shoulder. She was smiling. A wide, bright smile, looking as if pure happiness had materialized on her features.
My stomach contracted violently. Gastric acid burned my throat.
I turned around quickly. A step. A step. Two steps. Three. Four.
My steps accelerated, carving my way through the nobles, ignoring their calls of my name. The air in the hall became heavy and poisoned. I reached the guest wing. I pushed the marble bathroom door forcefully.
I closed the door, and turned the lock.
My knees collapsed in front of the porcelain toilet, and I emptied everything in my stomach. I vomited the champagne. I vomited the lunch. I vomited all the hypocrisy, all the fake smiles, all the poisoned political speeches, and all the blood I was forced to turn a blind eye to.
I coughed violently until my eyes teared up, my chest panting in search of a single atom of oxygen unpolluted by Vanitas's perfume.
I stood up slowly, leaning against the cold marble wall. I opened the golden faucet, and washed my face and mouth with ice-cold water. I raised my head slowly and looked into the mirror.
Drops of water slid down the face of the strong knight. The Kingdom's hero. The unbreakable shield. Otos Exemplar.
(Who is this liar staring back at me?)
I raised my trembling hand and grabbed my face. I dug my fingers into my cheek until they nearly left red marks. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying to crush the images assaulting me: the basement corpses, Justitia's smile.
I opened my eyes again. I stared into my own pupils in the reflection.
"Just..." I whispered to myself in a hoarse, shattered, and utterly defeated voice. "Just... act like Otos."
I painted the wooden smile on my face once more. And I wiped my mouth, ready to return to the slaughterhouse they call a family.
Night after night, I trained.
Up. Down. Right. Left.
How much time had passed while I trained? I did not know. At some point amidst the sweat and panting, I think I forgot who Otos was. Otos was a knight who trained, and this is what I would do.
I trained... and trained... and trained.
[Otos: Age 28 | Vanitas: Age 19 | Aretia & Justitia: Age 22]
The dining table. The voices were overlapping in my head like a buzzing hum.
"Why are you screaming?!" Vanitas yelled. He sat with his usual elegance. "Do you want to marry me off?"
"What is going on?" I asked mechanically.
Vanitas replied coldly, directing his words to my mother: "Oh, Mama... you will not marry me to that girl with the blood... that blood..." He waved his hand in disgust. "I cannot even describe its filth with words."
"Blood?!" Justitia screamed in his face. "She is my friend!"
"Do not make me talk about your friends, Sister," Vanitas scoffed. "For I have cleaned up after you a lot."
"No one asked you to clean up!" Justitia screamed.
I looked around. Aretia was sitting quietly, sipping wine. My father was looking at his food plate, motionless. My mother was screaming at Justitia. Justitia was screaming at my mother and at Vanitas.
I looked at the food plate in front of me. I looked at my father. Still staring at the porcelain.
I looked at the plate again.
"That is enough," I whispered.
The screaming continued.
"Enough," I raised my voice.
The screaming grew louder.
"Enough!"
I raised my fist and brought it down with all my might onto the food plate.
CRASH!
The luxurious porcelain shattered. Dead silence fell over the room. Everyone was staring at me. Blood was dripping from my cut hand.
"Damn you, Vanitas," I said in a voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Can you not just stay Vanitas? Do you have to speak your filth in front of me?"
Vanitas looked into my eyes for a single second, then ignored me completely and returned to looking at the floor.
I turned to my mother. "And you... just do not speak."
I looked at everyone. At the shocked faces, and the dead faces.
"All of you... just shut up! Shut up and do what you have done your whole lives! Finish this damn charade!"
I turned around. A step towards the outside of the dining room. Another step. Heavier. A stronger step.
SMASH!
The marble cracked beneath my military boot. The pressure was tearing my muscles.
Step. Step.
I reached the cold stone hallway. I raised my fist, and punched the wall.
A strike. I hit it harder. My knuckle bones popped.
Strike! Strike!
The stone shattered. The splinters scattered, mixing with my blood that stained the wall. The flesh was tearing, but I felt no pain in my hand. All the pain was centered in my chest.
I stopped, my chest heaving violently. I looked at the shattered wall, and the blood dripping from it.
I rested my exhausted head against the cold stone. I closed my eyes, and stood there in the dark hallway, completely alone, and incapable of even protecting myself.
(Author's Note: All ages and documented records within this chapter are recorded and calculated in accordance with the chronology of present events).
Knights of the Era
Chapter: Lord Motos Exemplar
1. Lineage, Early Life, and the Inception of Sovereignty
Age and Kinship: Seventy years of age, standing as the sole heir and lord of the martial House Exemplar, with no siblings or rivals contesting the mantle of the house.
The Enigma of the Early Disappearance: At nine years of age, his parents vanished simultaneously under obscure and abrupt circumstances, leaving neither prior notice nor trace of their destination, plunging the family into a critical leadership vacuum that remains unsolved to this day.
Regency and Tutelage: He assumed headship of the noble house at that tender age under the direct oversight and rigorous guardianship of House Osmium, which mitigated the crisis, secured the martial interests of the house, and stabilized its standing.
2. Knighthood and Martial Supremacy
The Historic Record: Formally invested as a knight at the age of eighteen, setting the historic record as the youngest knight ever to receive the title in the kingdom's history at that time—a milestone that endured for decades until his eldest son claimed the mantle at an even younger age.
Mastery of the Ray: Regarded as one of the kingdom's foremost and fiercest champions; renowned for his absolute mastery of the "Ray" arts with razor precision and decisive lethality, rendering his strikes piercing down to the microscopic level.
House Standing: House Exemplar constitutes an indispensable martial pillar to House Osmium and a foundational cornerstone for the overall security of the Kingdom of Stasis, maintaining command over elite knight battalions and disciplined standing armies.
3. Territorial Influence, Governance, and Matrimony
Territorial Sovereignty: House Exemplar holds dominion over several vital cities situated across the Vitalis Domain beyond the Mountains of Silence, presided over by the principal military metropolis: The City of Troy.
Marriage and Domestic Chronology:
Devoted his early years entirely to the field and military campaigns, remaining unwed until thirty-eight years of age (38).
Fathered his eldest son four years into the marriage (at age 42), with his firstborn currently standing at 28 years of age.
Wed to Lady "Superia" (currently 55 years of age).
Concerning Lineage and Nuptial Standing:
Lady Superia descends from the local house entrusted with administrative affairs and the day-to-day governance of the city of Troy on behalf of House Exemplar.
Within the High Orbits, chroniclers have habitually framed this union as a "functional necessity tying the peripheral marches to the center." Historical accounts consistently favor praise of Lady Superia's pragmatic competence in managing the tributary city's logistics over integrating her into classic aristocratic genealogies or examining the purity of her pedigree—a subtle aristocratic slight treating her place in the historic martial house as an administrative arrangement imposed by the frontiers of Vitalis, rather than a union of equal blood or status.
4. The Uncharted Expeditions and Beyond the Frontier
Breaching the Entropy Domain: Lord Motos is counted among the vanishingly few living figures to have set foot within the desolate Entropy Domain and returned with mental faculties and physical constitution intact.
The Rumor of the Nihilus Rift: Rumors circulate among knightly circles asserting that during his deep foray, he beheld the "Nihilus Rift." While the claim remains officially uncorroborated, its enduring presence cloaks his name in an enigmatic and daunting aura transcending ordinary mortals.