In the midst of his mournful reflection, Sarakiel laid his eyes on an item placed a meter fro of Khamael's head. He quickly picked it up since it didn't seem to pose a threat.
'A note?'
He quickly unfolded the parchment and was taken aback of the nearly indiscernible handwriting. Although, as he painstakingly perused over the sentence written on it, his bewilderment ripened into fury in an instant.
***CaNNOt-bE-hEaLEd-RisE-FRom-dEad-ReQUiREd-tO-sUmmON***
He opted to give the note to Mikhail, not knowing how to feel about it. Duke Helian proceed to nigh his kneeling partner and handed the poorly torn piece of parchment to him.
At first, Mikhail simply stared at the paper, his mind still couldn't process what had happened to his brother. Seeing this reaction from his commander, Sarakiel nudged raised one of Mikhail's hand and laid the parchment on it, saying "Read it" thereafter.
Lagging for a few seconds, Mikhail did as he was told. As expected, once his eyes had finished poring over the content, his jaw clenched till his muscles were taut.
"Who wrote this absurd of a message?!"
Sarakiel maintained his silence, considering he shared the sentiments of his captain.
"Cannot be healed you say?! There is nothing as such! Sarakiel!"
This was the point where Sarakiel desired to deviate his opinion.
What infuriated the Duke was the phrase 'rise from the dead', not the phrase 'cannot be healed'.
"My Lord, he is no long-"
"Do not go against my wishes! I am ordering you!"
'He is no longer breathing. We can only heal, not revive. That is the unfortunate truth.' Sarakiel wanted to continue his statement, yet he refused to extinguish the dull glimmer of expectation that Mikhail had.
Mikhail entrusted the job to him, for the reason that among the Rounds, Sarakiel's healing capabilities surpassed the others'.
"Yes, My Lord."
Sarakiel bent down to caress the face of Khamael. However, upon contact, he felt a sensation akin to electric current zapping his muscles.
"A curse?" He muttered under his breath.
This did not escape Mikhail's hearing, earning him an inquiry.
"Curse?"
"He was cursed. His mana network was cut-off. Lord Khamael's magic was sealed."
"What are you on? Do you mean to tell me that he wasn't able to use his incantations while fighting?"
"Precisely, and it was done when his body was still in perfect condition."
"Then at that time-" Mikhail remembered the occasion when Khamael moved to block an unseen attack from hitting him. He could've discerned that it was that sort of strike, if he wasn't so self-absorbed.
"One more thing, magic won't affect him. Healing magic is not an exception."
Sarakiel's addition hammered the final nail in the coffin. Mikhail's lips started to quiver out of pure frustration, and his shoulders trembled in resentment.
'Instead of dealing with him in one blow, they presented him the hell that he did not deserve! They even had the audacity to leave his body in the cold. I won't forgive this! Myself or those f*ckers!' He kept on blaming himself in his mind. The many what-ifs proliferated his previously minuscule guilt.
Mikhail lowered his head and shut his eyes. He tried to find harmony in his rampaging emotions. After a few seconds of respiring, he reopened his eyes - Hollow, unforgiving orbs replaced the intense ones he had. If Sarakiel hadn't seen them before, he'd be shaking in fear.
"I will wholeheartedly offer you the heads of the perpetrators, Khamael. This will be the last time that I'll be leaving your side, I promise."
The man doused his Knight coat, and gently blanketed the body of his brother with it. He proceeded to stroke Khamael's head to gather the strength he needed.
"I'll make sure that they'll writhe in pain a million times than what you felt. Sleep tight, Ivan. I will protect you."
He called him Ivan, short for Ivanov which was Khamael's birth name, amplifying the display of affection that Mikhail had for his only sibling and family.
Duke Helian alienated himself from the dreary farewell, since he decided to save his mourning for later.
The older Percival finally straightened his body, locking gaze with Sarakiel in the process. He then lifted the rolled black parchment that was in his grip.
"This scroll has several functions. One of which is to store a spell whose casting duration exceeds, at the least, a dier. His Majesty utilized this. I am hoping that it's a spell practical for our endeavour."
"Are you activating it now, My Lord?"
"Yes."
Mikhail unknotted the string and uttered the incantation to awaken the scroll.
"Profero."
All of a sudden, the scroll hovered in the air and uncoiled by itself. Cursive letters that were golden in hue materialized on the surface of the parchment. As the curtain slowly unveiled the spell, an expression of displeasure came into being on the Knight Captain's visage.
"You never cease to amaze and infuriate me concurrently, Your Majesty. Are you dishonouring your knight's death by sending a spell to control the dead?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Why did you dismiss the congregation if you're going to summon us afresh?"
"It's a good thing that I lingered around the castle."
"You're always like this, dragging us in your pace. Why don't you change for the better?"
"Your Majesty, what is happening?"
These were the consecutive whinings that the Emperor received when the four knights that he resummoned arrived at the audience room. Regrettably, their laments fell on deaf ears.
"I have a request. Do you want to watch the events on the battlefield of Ikdes?"
The Emperor's requisition was instantaneously met with unfavourable judgment.
"You called us for this? You are perfectly aware that we do not take this kind of joke well, aren't you?" Israfel was not lenient on his protest, openly raising his dissatisfaction.
In the first place, letting the knights have a glimpse of a battle they were not a part of was considered a crude gesture. Nonetheless, the Emperor did not mind Israfel's outburst. The people who could talk down on him were a few from a bunch, with the four knights in the room and the three in Ikdes included.
He was sentient that his knights would disagree with his suggestion. Howbeit, the bidding that he let Duke Helian handle was something that they have to confirm for themselves. If the success of the method was guaranteed, then he would confess about it. If it failed, then what's left for him to do was to take responsibility.
"Yes, I am aware. I implore all of you to give this one a chance. Let's monitor the battle through Sarakiel's eyes."