"Can my creations be brought outside? But of course! Where do you think the flowers in my boutique originate from? Once I plant a fresh corpse into the dirt, I draw out the color of their soul, and so a lovely child is brought forth from their remains. Even I know not exactly what shall be birthed, but isn’t that what makes the whole process so rewarding? The anticipation. The wait! A tantalizing sense of excitement as you watch them blossom before your very eyes.

  "…My, that is quite the odd question. I suppose I can do that, but whatever do you need my corpse for?”

  —Satanael

  ———

  Dariel

  Dariel is in quite the predicament. He knows Lorelai would not be too happy with him for disregarding her orders, but something about that strange masked man has left him feeling ill at ease. When exactly did he get so close to us? I don’t remember anyone sitting at that seat when the play first began. I didn’t even hear so much as a footstep. Strange, how very strange. It’s almost as if he appeared from thin air—like a phantom. His memories teeter back to the court session, of the mentions about a deranged killer at large, and though he is not one to engage in idle speculations… his instincts tell him that this is a matter that shouldn’t be ignored.

  And so here he is running through the darkened streets in a nervous trot toward the nearest knight outpost he can find. Dariel knows Lorelai is strong. Dariel knows she isn’t one to be felled by a common madman. But even so, he cannot subdue these anxious shivers creeping up his throat. Her voice was more forceful than usual. Was she trying to keep me away? To warn me not to interfere? I know I would just be a burden in a scuffle, I know that, but Stars… she’s just recovered. I can’t allow her to deal with this on her own, and even if my worries are unfounded, then I’d rather live with embarrassment than regret not helping at the crucial moment.

  Eventually, his steps slow, and he arrives right in front of a large, pink-stoned building. An insignia of a bow wreathed in a single wing is inscribed upon the base: the insignia of the Cherubims. How fortunate that his family’s branch be so close. It will make convincing them all the more simple.

  Dariel crashes through the door to the surprised yelps of the people inside and quickly rushes to the front reception before they can stop him.

  “Young lord?” the clerk stutters with a flustered bow. “What brings you here at this hour—”

  “Apologies, but there isn’t much time to explain.” He reaches into his suit’s pocket and pulls out the same plaque shown to the concierge at the theatre hall. “I, Dariel Cherubim, hereby invoke my authority as a noble descendant of the main family line. Gather what knights are available and search the streets near the entertainment district for a man donning a rose-covered mask. Arrest him at first sight. You are granted permission to use force if he resists, but be warned: He is much more dangerous than he appears.”

  “Oh, um, at once,” they reply, frantically scribbling onto a document and running around in a mad dash. Soon, they begin to recite a spell, and their voice is raised to a deafening level for everyone in the building to hear.

  In a matter of seconds, the once quiet hall is swiftly overcome with the footsteps of over a hundred strong. The poor clerk looks to be rather dazed from the sudden excitement, but nonetheless they dutifully relay Dariel’s command and organizes the knights into various companies. One group is responsible for this section, this one another, and so on until they all disappear into the night just as quickly as they’ve been summoned. The clerk breathes a sigh of relief, but their rest is short lived as they harden their expression and begin to write down a - no doubt - very lengthy report.

  “As per the order’s bylaws, I must request for you to remain here while I contact a superior official for further review. Do you comply?”

  “Of course.”

  “Very well. Is there a specific member you had in mind?” they ask.

  “Please notify Templar Dismas of the Order of the Skulking Dominion. I have a possible lead on the case he has been investigating of late. Oh, and I would prefer if we could talk in a more private space, if you would.”

  “It shall be done.” The clerk fiddles under the desk for a moment before pulling out a small metal key. “Follow me, please.”

  After making sure everything is in order, the two leave the reception area and ascend the staircase to the second floor. As always, the decorum of these Cherubim outposts are much more lavish than he is comfortable with. Plated gold covers every speck of the walls, and the sheer volume of jewels embedded throughout are dazzling enough to stun a blind man. With how bright it is here, one can scarcely believe it’s currently the dead of night.

  Eventually, they arrive at a small door near the back of the building. “I shall send a messenger to the Dominions shortly,” they say. “In the meantime, please stay here until we receive a response. Would you like any refreshments while you wait? Tea, perhaps?”

  “No, thank you. I am not planning on staying for long,” he replies with a clumsy smile. I would like nothing more than to be out there searching along the other knights, but I’d only get in the way. Heh, I’m starting to regret not taking my bow lessons more seriously. Then again, I’ve never been much for physical activity. But if staying this way must mean enduring this gnawing feeling of uselessness… then perhaps I should pick it up again.

  The clerk leaves, and Dariel opens the door to find himself in a surprisingly normal room: wooden tables, regular folding seats, and a small candle to light the space.

  Dariel gently closes the door, and then he begins pacing in an anxious circle. There is nothing else left to do; only the Stars know what shall come next. Still, it is inevitable for one to grow anxious when left alone with their thoughts. Ugh, maybe I should’ve told them to search for Lorelai as well. I know we’re supposed to keep her return a secret, but what if they mistake her for that dreadful man? She was wearing a cloak, and it is rather dark out, so it’s not impossible—

  “Yer lookin’ real troubled, kid. Sit down. Don’t want the nerves to overtake ya.”

  Dariel jumps up in fright upon hearing a raspy voice, and as he turns around, a figure rises up from the room’s shadow. One by one, the stranger’s limbs thrust out of the darkness, and for a moment Dariel begins to panic. The silhouette looks frighteningly similar to that of the masked man at the theatre. He cannot see them well in the dim light, but he can scarcely make out the shape of a mask. How did he find me? Damnit, to think this would happen after sending all the knights away. No, perhaps… was he waiting for this moment? When I’d be completely alone? Agh, there’s no time: I need to get out of here!

  Dariel bolts for the exits and fumbles with the doorknob in a desperate attempt to escape his sudden pursuer, but a hoarse sigh from behind makes him start to think otherwise. “Alright, what’s all this then? Aren’t you Gadreel’s boy? After callin’ for me this late, now yer tryin’ to run away? I don’t ‘preciate my time being wasted, kid. Calm yourself. I don’t bite.”

  On a closer look, the man’s mask does look a bit different. It’s missing that strange looking rose; rather, there aren’t any features of note at all. Its surface is a smooth, unremarkable black. And his voice is also rougher in comparison to the madman’s elegant tone.

  “Oh, it’s you, Sir Dismas,” Dariel says with a big sigh of relief. “Forgive me for the rude reaction. You see, the man I just saw looked very similar to you, so I had assumed the worst.”

  “Right, I remember hearin’ about that. They said you have some information for me?”

  “Yes.” Dariel takes a deep breath in and slowly soothes his still-beating heart. “I believe I’ve found the phantom you’ve been looking for.”

  “Really now? After all my slavin’ away to get even a crumb of a lead, you just happened to come across them? And escaped without so much as a scratch at that?”

  “Well, he was a bit preoccupied with someone else.” Dariel looks around the room as if to reaffirm their privacy and leans in close. “I assume you already know about Lorelai?”

  “Know? I was there when she stormed the throne room. Just ‘cause you couldn’t see me doesn’t mean I wasn’t there.”

  “I see. But yes, I was her guide this evening, showing her the Arthurian Theatre, when a strange man in a floral mask approached us. Slim. Posture grand and deliberate. He was… odd. I’m not sure how to explain it, but there was something in that gaze of his that felt unsettling—like a beast eyeing its prey. I tried to intervene, but then Lorelai suddenly commanded me to leave. She looked different from usual as if at any moment she’d draw her blades. I know she can handle herself, but I still felt worried which is why I called the Cherubim knights for assistance.”

  “That so? Hm…” Dismas lowers his head and stays silent. Very silent. He must be sorting through his thoughts, but the Templar shows not a single sign of life—not a twitch nor even a grumble. He just stands still for some time, and thus Dariel also stands still in a rather awkward period of silence.

  Thankfully, he speaks at last, only this time his tone is a bit more polite. “I get it now. He set his sights on a more allurin’ target this time. Wasn’t satisfied with just spiritin’ away the common folk. But how did he figure out her identity? Either we’ve got a rat hiding somewhere, or he was drawn to her presence. Either way, this is good. Real good. Now that I’ve got a description, it’ll be much easier huntin’ him down.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Good? But what about Lorelai?”

  “Trust me, kid: Even if she’s lost her memories, I doubt anyone in this kingdom ‘sides Ascalon can do her in. She’ll be fine. That damn ghost has probably run away by now. What matters is makin’ sure he can’t leave the capital.”

  Having another confirm Lorelai’s proficiency does wonders to ease Dariel’s troubles. If even those of the upper echelon say so, then it must be true.

  “I’ll check the alleyways for them,” Dismas continues. “With the knights roaming around, there aren’t any other places for him to run—”

  A loud yell from outside startles the two. The source is close, right next to the building, and the sound is quickly followed by an accompaniment of similar cries. Something is happening.

  “Hm, that doesn’t sound good. Come on, kid. Let’s see if this is our rodent.” Dismas quickly scoops Dariel up into his arms and then dives into the shadows before his startled partner can even react. The two are completely consumed by the dusk, and Dariel finds himself in the midst of a strange, suffocating realm. There is no light here, no sound. It’s as if he’s floating in empty space. And all the while he suffers from a constant pressure pushing down on his body. Constricting. It is fortunate the moment passes swiftly, and they soon emerge out into the open street.

  A few knights of the Cherubims have already pulled out their weapons. Their bodies stiffen, hands plagued with a slight tremble, and the cause of their tension can be seen plainly in the distance—a shrouded outline. One unnatural in shape, almost monstrous, and it approaches them with a steady stride. Dariel is no warrior, but even he can sense danger exuding from whatever this being is.

  It is the sound, however, that shakes his heart with fear. With every step they take, something falls onto the pavement: dripping, dripping, a wet liquid. A periodic rhythm of the unknown, and it is that mystery that invokes a fearsome image—creatures, grotesque and hideous, birthed from the imagination of his mind. But he will not need to imagine any longer, for the figure is now but a mere jaunt away.

  There, stepping out into the moon’s spotlight, is the bloodied visage of Lorelai. And she is with a familiar face. Or rather, mask, for gripped tightly in her hands is the severed remains of the man Templar Dismas has been searching for: the phantom.

  And he is very much dead.

  Dariel very nearly faints before the sight right then and there, but with a firm grit of his teeth and a fearful desire to not embarrass himself, he manages to stay upright as Lorelai casually walks up to them with the dismembered carcass in hand.

  “Oh? Is that you, Dariel?” she says without a care for the baffled expressions of the knights around her. “I thought you would have long returned home by now.”

  “Sorry, Lorelai,” he mumbles. “I know you told me to leave and all, but I brought some help just in case. Though I… guess you didn’t need it in the end.”

  “Don’t be! I appreciate the thought.” She pats his shoulder as if to comfort him, and it would have worked if not for her gauntlet leaving a scarlet print on his suit. Blood makes Dariel squeamish, so to have a man’s guts hanging out in full view is not easy on the eyes, to say the least. “I was wondering why there were so many knights out. I tried to reach out to them at first, but then they ran away shouting about needing reinforcements before I could come close. It was odd, but I suppose I was in the darkness at the time; one’s sight tends to play tricks on you when staring at the unknown. My identity is supposed to be a secret, anyway, so I didn’t try very hard to correct them.”

  “I don’t think the corpse in your hand helped with the misunderstanding,” Dismas says with what sounds like a grimace. The sight must be particularly brutal even for a Templar like him. “I’m guessin’ this was the phantom Dariel’s been talkin’ about?”

  “This?” Much to his dismay, she lifts the body up and presents it to him—gouged flesh and all. “I suppose that is a fitting name. I knew at first glance his intentions weren’t benevolent, but with Dariel there and us in the middle of the theatre, I didn’t want to risk endangering the public. So, I followed him to the back alleyway, and it was there he finally revealed himself.”

  Lorelai turns her head and looks at Sir Dismas with a curious look, as if scouring for a particular memory. “His power was quite similar to yours, in fact.”

  “Like me?” he questions. “Huh, didn’t think ya’d remember. We only met a few times before you were sent off to the front.”

  “I’m sorry, I was referring to the throne room. You were there, weren’t you? The one in the shadows watching over everyone.”

  Dismas stumbles over his feet, perplexed that she managed to see through his concealment. “Hah? Now that’s a sorry blow. I’ve a lot of pride in my skills: Not even Ascalon can discover me if I’m at my best. How’d you figure it out?”

  “Hehe, I like to think my senses are quite keen. Without them, I’d be the corpse instead of this fellow here.”

  “Well, can’t complain ‘bout that.” He leers at their surroundings and quickly grabs the other two, pulling them in near. The other knights murmur amongst themselves all the while, and soon, the other groups from around the area begin to congregate, lured in from all the commotion. “Let’s continue this talk in a more private spot. Don’t want to attract any more attention than we already ‘ave. I’ll send some of my subordinates to clear things up around ‘ere, and in the meantime, you two’ll follow me.”

  Oh no. Dariel sighs and braces himself for the inevitable. Just as he expects, the ground beneath disappears, and the three are sucked into the darkness.

  Eventually, they emerge out into a large dwelling. It’s nice here, much more comfortable than the spaces at the Cherubims, for the interior is thoughtfully furnished with warm colors: a maple-lined floor, rich brown walls, and a crackling fireplace nestled behind a quaint little desk. The decor is simple, but that is what makes it all the more welcoming to the young Dariel. He very much likes it here.

  “Ah, bother, forgot ‘bout the blood,” Dismas grumbles as he takes a seat behind the desk. “No use frettin’ about it now. Just toss that damned corpse to the side and I’ll deal with later. For now, I need a recount of what happened for the records. Even if it’s you, Lorelai, killing in the capital is real serious business, and it’s my line of work to know everythin’ there is to know ‘round here.”

  “Of course, sir…?” she says.

  “Dismas. Templar Dismas of the Order of the Skulking Dominion. I’m responsible for investigation, infiltration, and any other work that requires a shifty fellow like me. Interrogation is also part of that work, so don’t take it personally if I seem a little rough; the scowl’s just for effect.”

  But we can’t see your face, Dariel almost blurts out loud.

  “Hehe, you are quite the humorous person, Sir Dismas.”

  “Just trying to lighten the mood, is all. Glad it seemed to work.”

  Huh? Dariel is very lost, but he chooses to remain oblivious. There isn’t any room for him to butt in, and besides some things are better left unsaid lest he make himself out to be the fool.

  “But let’s not get too distracted now. I’ve already got the gist from Gadreel’s kid over there. Did you know the man was after you?”

  “Not exactly,” she says with a trailing hum. “I did notice a presence following us while we were enjoying the district’s entertainment, but I decided to ignore it at the time. Dariel was having fun and I didn’t want to ruin this precious evening by making him worry over such things.”

  “Lorelai…” Dariel murmurs.

  “However, I could not keep my silence any longer when that presence finally approached us at the Arthurian Theatre. I knew then that a confrontation was inevitable, so I bid Dariel to leave before he could be involved in his scheme.”

  “And that’s when he brought ya out to the alley?” Dismas questions.

  “Yes. He owned a small boutique there, hidden in an obscure little corner. We went inside and then he began rambling about art and making me his masterpiece. I tolerated his nonsense in the case he would reveal more about his purpose, but all I learned was that he was a complete, utter madman. He did not seek to kill under someone’s orders or for some grand reason: No, he merely wished to turn me into one of his grotesque artworks.”

  “Knew that bastard was a sick one,” he groans. “So he wasn’t some spy from Caelum, then? No mentions of anyone else involved with his murders?”

  “None. He appeared to be alone in his pursuits, and his reasoning for entering the capital was for finding suitable victims in which he might use as his inspiration.”

  “And I’m guessin’ he got in through that power that’s similar to mine?”

  Lorelai nods. “Yes, he could blend in with the light. Cast himself in an intangible veil whilst in front of my eyes. It was very difficult to resist against. He attacked me whenever I was most vulnerable, and he ran away if I attempted to make chase. The only reason I claimed victory in the end was in due thanks to his naivety.”

  “Oh? How’s that?”

  She smiles. “Sound. Though I could not see his body, I could hear his footsteps: the hard knocking against the floor. And I could hear his voice ever persistent with his goading. When he thought me at my lowest, I seized the opportunity and cleaved him in half. I was lucky. If he put his full effort into fleeing, I would have never caught him.”

  Dismas slowly reclines back into his seat and lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Doesn’t matter what could’ve happened. Ya managed to slay him. That’s what counts, and it seems he’s the one I’ve been searchin’ for as well. Not many people in this world are that adept at stealth; looks like I can finally get a good night’s sleep for once. Ah, d’ya remember where he took you? Probably’s where all his victims are kept.”

  “I do know where it is, but I do not think you will—”

  “It’s alright. I’m not expecting much,” he says, interrupting her with a raised hand. His voice still has that rough tone, but Dariel notices something else: a sad, sad tremble. “We should at least find their bodies. Let the families ‘ave a bit of closure, a way to mourn. Ain’t nothin’ more painful in this world than not knowing for certain what’s become of yer folks. You know they’re gone, that there ain’t any way for them to still be alive, but… there’s always that possibility. That damned sliver of hope. Next thing ya know, you’re obsessed with it, and then it’s too late to move on.”

  Dariel doesn’t know what to say or how to comfort him. For those aren’t the words of someone merely speaking in conjecture.

  “Personal experience?” Lorelai asks.

  “Hah, I’m just tryin’ to stop others from becomin’ a poor sop like me.”

  “And we will, Dismas. I’m sure of it.”

  He looks at her, and for a moment his coarse posture softens. He soon returns to his gruff no-nonsense guise from before, but Dariel likes to think that the two have become closer. At the very least he seems more relaxed.

  “Well,” he says, shyly turning away and letting out a gruff cough. “I’ve got all I need. Sorry for draggin’ you here so sudden and all: It must've been a rough night—for both of you. Get some rest and I’ll send someone over in the morning to get the exact spot.”

  “Thank you, and I hope you do not blame yourself too much. He was a very cunning man; it is not your fault he managed to evade your sight. On the contrary, thanks to your efforts I think you prevented many others from being spirited away. Be confident in yourself, Dismas. You’re a much more capable man than you believe.”

  “… Ah, damnit,” he sighs. “It’s like ya can see right through me. Not a bad feeling, I’ll admit. But at least let me save some face in front of the kid.”

  “Being vulnerable is not something to be ashamed of. I doubt he respects you any less. Isn’t that right, Dariel?”

  “Indeed,” Dariel chuckles. “Trust me. I’ve had my fair share of embarrassing moments after meeting Lorelai.”

  She really does resemble that of a beacon—a light for all those who’ve lost their way. Above all else, he admires her ability to comfort people. You can’t hide anything from her, and that’s why she knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

  “Alright, alright. The air’s gettin’ a bit too sappy for my liking. Get going already or I’ll have to drag you out myself.”

  Grumpy to the end, hm? Hehe, you’re not fooling anyone. I bet there’s a big, bright smile hiding under that mask. You’re just too flustered to show it.

  “Besides, Ascalon’s goin’ to need ya soon. There’s a lot o’ stuff to be done, and the sooner you go to his side, the sooner I’ll be free from all this work.”

  “Hm? What does his majesty need help preparing for?” Dariel says.

  “The funeral ceremony, and Lorelai here’ll have the most important role of all.”