Duke Iophiel Cynan, Duchess Haniel Tristan, Marquis Israfel Morholt, and Jibrail Sagramore were namely the Knights who were hailed back in the audience room. They held the 2nd, 4th, 5th, and 7th seat respectively.
"Please be civil and ask us how we feel about your antics." Duchess Tristan rarely spoke of any disapprobation towards the orders given to the knights. Withal, it seems that the Emperor went past the reasonable threshold of despotism that she was willing to tolerate.
"Why would I when I am aware of your perspectives?" The Emperor's governance dictated that his Knights would have a say in the final verdict of matters concerning the Empire, since he highly valued their opinions. Howbeit, in this particular issue, he wasn't inclined to yield dominance.
That query, or rather statement, obtained him the discontented glares of the four knights.
"I am sincerely hoping that you're all cognizant that my heart is also aching for our comrades, whose lives are currently in imperilment." The Emperor uttered, sounding as if he was delivering a propaganda.
Israfel scowled at the Monarch's little speech.
"Your sympathy is lacking substance. You're working your pets to the bones whilst you're sitting comfortably in your throne, then incessantly spout nonsense of false compassion? What a hypocrite you are, Your Majesty."
"Phrasing 'Your Majesty' after insulting me doesn't count as a show of respect, Marquis Morholt."
"Labelling a command as a request doesn't count as us doing you a favour, Emperor Seraphiel."
The two people stared at each other, refusing to back down on their words.
'Oh, here we go again.' Iophiel nearly wanted to slap his face upon witnessing an addition to the many pointless banters that these companions of his have had. In the end, he was the only person inside the room who could mediate in the mental skirmish.
"Israfel, apologize to His Majesty. You were out of the line."
Needless to say, Marquis Morholt knew that he committed the offence. He was simply accommodating his shortcoming of having an obdurate personality. The knight promptly lowered his head and stated his apologies.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. I know that it is not right to lash out on you. However, please be sensible enough to notice that you haven't elucidated your reasoning behind this behest." Israfel's articulation fell short of a plea and came out as a criticism.
Nevertheless, the Emperor preferred reprehension above bootlicking.
"I will enlighten everybody of the circumstances the moment that this ordeal concludes. For now, I'm compelling the four of you to take your seats on the audience side."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sarakiel became curious of the contents of the scroll when Mikhail's aura hosted a terrible killing intent. The image of receiving the direct focus of the aura terrified him. Thus, he waited until his commander could share the purpose of the scroll in lieu of asking first.
When he found his calm next to letting a few seconds pass, Percival lobbed the scroll to Sarakiel, with the latter catching it with one hand.
Duke Helian glided his eyes on the golden passage, getting dispirited by the end of it. He gawked at the parchment he was holding as his stomach felt like it was churning. He then swallowed his saliva prior to speaking.
"Isn't this a necromancer's spell for controlling the dead?! To be more precise, this spell can turn a creature who recently lost its life force into a higher undead. This can also give the caster the authority to command an army consisting of nothing but undead. Did the Emperor already deduce that one of us will die in this mission?"
The Duke suppressed a moan that was threatening to spill out of his mouth. He was at a loss on how to deal with the discovery.
'You were the one who forbade us from practising and utilizing the art of necromancy! You said that it was inconsiderate and vile to manipulate the dead! What is this farce?!' Presently, a storm of thoughts was wreaking havoc in his mind, justifying the indignation he was conceiving.
"Sarakiel, let's not delve into it too deeply."
Mikhail's detached voice, that suddenly resonated in the air, left Sarakiel no room to compose himself, so his response displayed his indifference.
"Y-yes?"
"The Emperor wanted me to use this, right?"
"I think so, My Lord. I'm really sorry."
Sarakiel clenched his fists fiercely tight that they almost went white. He held himself accountable for taking the role as the herald of the Emperor's uncertain modus operandi. The knight coveted to allude the termination of the plan. Withal, he couldn't seem to formulate the sentence needed to convey it perfectly.
"Don't worry. It's not your fault." Mikhail assured his subordinate that the blame was not on him after seeing the remorse on his visage.
He sauntered towards Duke Helian and took the scroll out of his grip. Succeeding that, he ignited the scroll with his pitch-black flames. The veins on his hands nearly popped out from the anger that he was suppressing.
"I won't acquiesce to that bastard of a man. I hope he'll have a damn hard time scouring the continent for my replacement. Let's go hunt, Sarakiel."
The Duke bowed his head to indicate his agreement, resolving to have the same degree of determination that his comrade possessed.
"I will aid you to your victory, Lord Mikhail."
"I'll entrust Ronove to you."
"Roger that."
With that, they dashed through the forest straight ahead, destroying everything that blocked their paths to reach the centre of the island as soon as possible.
A while of quietude enveloped the surroundings when the two knights left the edge of the woods. The last piece of the black parchment that had yet to burn into ashes landed on Khamael, and a dim light engulfed his body.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'From where did I read that?'
Lauviah hurriedly returned to her mansion once she fulfilled all of her duties for the dier. The instant she arrived at her home outside of the castle, she scampered in the direction of her enormous library and raided every single bookshelf.
'I can solely remember the words psalmus David domino, or was it domine?'
Even though she'd already fiddled away hours of her time and made a disarray of her formerly organized archives, her rummaging ended up for naught.
'Not here? Then I'll try the libraries inside the castle.'
Countess Lukan's inquisitiveness went beyond the 'genuinely curious' stage. Now, her main objective was to obtain a clue on the Empress' identity.
'Or if possible, something that will garner her the bad blood of the nobles. If only I wasn't being monitored, I wouldn't have gone and apologize to that degenerate.'
Countess Lauviah Lukan loathed the woman who took her position as the Empress of the Empire.
'I was the crown princess! I was supposed to claim the throne as the mother of the Empire!'
She acted prim and proper as a facade to secure the respect of the aristocratic party. She even went out of her way to solve the problems of other people, a phoney of a martyr. Unbeknownst to them, she harnessed an ugliness in her heart that was second to no one.
Well, disappointment would surely devastate her when she realizes that her efforts wouldn't bear any fruit under plenty of grounds. The Emperor himself didn't acknowledge her role as the crown princess in the first place. The 11th seat in the Knights of the Round Table was given to Lauviah as a compensation for her loss in the competition for the throne. Her facade didn't work as exemplary as she thought, ceaselessly exposing her emotions like the paragraphs of an opened book.
In the room where she was all alone, Lauviah was boiling with indiscriminate madness.
"I will drag that woman down to the hottest pits of hell!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The two knights reached a wide clearing in the forest, where an unusually large crow and a similarly-sized primate were hanging around.
"It appears that preys anticipate their predators now. How nature has changed."
Mikhail unsheathed his sword and assumed a battle stance.
"It's time for carnage."
"--- -----!"
"Shut your trap, bird brain."
"------ --- ------ -- --------- ----."
"I don't f*cking understand a term that's coming out from that filthy beak of yours."
'Is this even a conversation?'
Sarakiel stood, unmoving, behind Mikhail who kept on responding to Malphas even though he couldn't comprehend what it was saying.
'Still, the more uncanny thing here is, why are there no other demons save for these two?'
Malphas, the raven black crow, was in command of an army measuring up to forty legions while Ronove, the primate, has twenty -- Those account for a force totalling nearly a million soldiers. It wouldn't be befuddling if a crowd of demons and monsters suddenly jumps on them in an instant, yet the knight wasn't able to sense the presence of other beings, tribe people included, except for the four of them.
'I guess their confidence in facing us with just the two of them isn't baseless. Are we that easy of an opponent?'