- Emilio-
Emilio knew that the appearance of the heir was random. It was unknown by those who've never seen the King what the divine mark really looked like but it was impossible to hide without a blindfold. Did that mean that someone without eyes could be the next heir? It was a birth mark, as soon as a child opened their eyes you'd.... "Wait. Do you think the king is somehow locating heirs and committing infanticide? Is that even possible without someone knowing?" He felt like he'd been plunged in ice water. "How would that be possible?"
Markos traced a clockwise spiral in the air. Emilio recognized it as one of the simplified symbols for magic. "Artifacts or an augur might be able to predict it. There's been some research in the archives trying to trace the origin of the mark of divine rule, the simplest explanation is that it passes within a family blood line. It's why there's that push to intermarry between noble houses to scramble for power."
Emilio's mouth was dry, he swallowed trying to find the right words to present his thoughts. An augur... an oracle was rare even among the embers. "When was the last time there was an augur within the Order?"
"The last time was about 8 years ago. He was a brother of the Flamen Saulis by the name of Kearney." Markos urged Arashi into a trot, breaking away from Emilio and Bolstead's side. Without Emilio's prompting, Bolstead surged after Arashi, forcing Emilio to shift his body weight and posture to not be thrown from the horse's back.
Eight years was a long time. It had been five years since Markos and Emilio joined the Order. Emilio wondered how Markos would know such a thing. Had Markos gone to temple while at Lord Arand's estate to deliver a message? Or was it something that Caelyn knew? But Caelyn was senior to them by a year in the Order and a year in age. None of the stories about Caelyn that fell on Emilio's ears talked about who Caelyn was before his proving. All the rumors were centered around Sir Caelyn Talen, his deeds, and the forbidden romance with the ember priestess, Iliana.
The possibilities for encountering that information were endless. But what had happened to Kearney? Was he dead? Was he missing? There were fewer brothers of the Flamen than the sisterhood because male embers were rarely born. Emilio hadn't heard of an ember retiring, so what had taken the man from the reach of the Church. What happened if no new heir was found? Who would become the King? He tried to remember if it was something that was covered in his political education but could not place an answer.
Wind whipped around them as they ran through the forest, Emilio noted the dip in the position of the sun beyond the canopy, painting the sky in deep purples and reds. As they ventured deeper, the undergrowth grew denser and more tangled while the overhead branches strangled the last vestige of the sunset — isolating them within its gloom. Markos lead the way and Emilio trailed behind. It remembered of Emilio of when they rode together on a hunt when they were children; Markos was always a few steps ahead and Emilio was always the one behind.
There was a time that Emilio wondered if his father would ignore tradition and appoint Markos as the head of the Arand household in his stead. It was uncommon, but he wondered why his father had raised Markos when they shared no blood but General Arand infrequently spoke fondly of Markos's late mother. Imelda mentioned once that the King and their father seemed to know the Lady Louvel but was too young to understand how such a social reach could be obtained. Emilio's theory was that perhaps, Markos was secretly his half brother or his father had a romantic interest in Lady Louvel.
"There!" Markos shouted, rounding a corner towards a thicket of brambles in front of a moss covered rock face. Both templars slowed and dismounted before checking over their equipment. They were both equipped with a few days of rations and equipment. Reports stated that the it was a wet system, so there'd be water and mud for the monsters to hide in. Whatever they needed, they'd have to take in with them. The horses would graze until they returned.
"I was thinking," Emilio started. Markos peered over through his raised visor, his golden eyes met Emilio's. "Do you think he is killing them?"
"... Which he are you speaking of?" Markos cautiously asked, lowering his voice as he stepped closer.
Emilio leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper, "The king."
Markos's posture straightened and he pushed down his visor. "Are you ready? We don't have much time before Meneo's light replaces Saule's place in the sky."
A chill crept down Emilio's back light someone had just stepped on his grave. Was there a whisperer watching them nearby? They reported to the Fleur and the Order but not the king... right? The Pillar controlled the martial orders of knights and supported the Empire. To say such a thing to accuse the king of infanticide to secure his rule was tantamount to treason. He cleared his throat. "Yes." He stretched with an awkward huff, no matter how probable his suspicions it was best to do it when in private. All templars had a partner whisperer that they rarely spoke to, instead their whisperers kept to the shadows to provide reports or call for assistance but their role was to gather intelligence for mission planning. He suspected that with both he and Markos working together, only one whisperer would be working. It was another question he could not answer, why did the Holy Sword not trust the templars to assign someone to report on them?
Markos drew his sword, signaling for Emilio to do the same. Together they hacked away thick brambles, making a path forward to the mouth of the pit. As they drew closer, a wail echoed on an updraft towards them. They paused as another wail joined the first and then another two.
"At least four, there might be more," Markos muttered. "The light spheres will aggravate them but we don't want to take them on in the dark."
"I don't imagine they will set out tea for us."
Markos paused and let out a short laugh. "About to venture into a hell pit and even now you're making jokes." He grasped Emilio's pauldron with his left hand. "Keep that heart of yours safe. It's not to late to go home and spare yourself."
Emilio shook his head. "Never. I can't leave these poor demons to suffer your horrible jokes and your scowl. Better to send them off with a more pleasant voice."
"Come on then," Markos scoffed. "Let's see what nonsense you've learned at the temple while I've been away."