The people saw him as he dashed around, swinging his blade and killing the bandits without any effort, the intimidation of the beast he rode seeping into their hearts. After a while, they found their rescuers returning in a trail of blood, bowing before him.
"Today, I, Requiem the First, has freed you all from oppression!" he announced, and an authority in his voice emanated in the form of a pressure that collapsed upon the peasants. They bowed to his glory, pressing their heads to the ground, compelled and unable to do otherwise.
They sang him praises. Requiem laughed in his heart.
"My Lord. It would take quite the while to clean the mess here." The honest Emerald, a young boy proficient with the bow and fine arts, followed Requiem with the others, his short grey hair bobbing as his green eyes swept across the bloody mess, "I can do it, if I put my mind to it."
"Alone? There is much dignity in teamwork, especially when serving the people." Requiem locked his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping across the room calmly. He felt like the more he fought in this direction, the more fragments of himself he picked up, shaping his character, "Then again."
He swept his hand to the side, his movements swift and graceful. The robes he wore gleamed in a soft light, its embroidered rim emanating an ornate feel. His silver hair was tied up in a pony tail, and a shoulder guard sat firmly on his left shoulder. It was a piece from Yver's gift.
"We should return to the castle soon. The people mourn the deaths of their leaders, but only for a moment. Power grabbing fools would come for that they did not sow, then we would have to kill all of them." He held his chin, "Especially those related with nobility."
"Some Regent Lords after catching news of this upheaval of authorities would want to exact the Order of the King, and they would try to appoint their pawns in this area." Gerald spoke calmly, being well versed in these matters. Although, he was not a noble.
"I worry little for those fools." Requiem halted, reaching the door to the room where the bodies of all the nobles he slaughtered lay. He stood for a second, "This sight would be quite heavy for any with a weak heart. Steel your resolve, or turn away. I hate the stench of vomit."
He pushed open the door, and the horrid smell gushed out, like a phantom released from prison, wafting into their wide open nostrils. Their eyes turned as the sight before them steadied, then a boy among them, black haired, turned around and gulped down hard.
"I would have done this cleaner, but sadly we cannot enforce the laws of dignity of a beast that is not our own." Requiem wanted to pinch his nose, but he maintained a straight face and composure in face of his servants. A bloody pile landed on his shoulder, and Requiem froze up.
"This is frightening, My Lord." Redeye voiced his opinion, pinching his nose and ignoring Gerald whose death stare bore into the side of his face. He cleared his throat, opening his mouth to speak, a calm gleam in his eyes even as his face remained as pale as paper, "I adore your strength."
"I am glad to hear that." Requiem spoke calmly, his eyes growing emotionless, the aura around him stale and lifeless. The shift in aura caused his followers to frown in wonder, but Requiem stood in silence, and no one could read him, "Let us continue with my plans, shall we."
——
Yver looked out the window, her hands relaxed on Margaret's shoulders as they stood in the fog, both silent. Yver heard footsteps, turning around to find Fay approaching them with her head bowed and hands behind her back, "Dragnur told me that they were victorious."
"Then I am glad…" Yver sighed, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders. She stepped forward and stood beside Yver and Margaret, joining them to look out the window, the mass of trees standing tall in the distance looked intimidating, "The further you look forth, the more dead trees you see."
"We tried our best, but the corruption had eaten too deep." Margaret spoke, lifting her hands to relaxed it on the frame of the window. Her voice was calm, containing an edge of curiosity, "Why are you not against this madness? You are okay with being a slave to a child?"
"The same way you are okay being enslaved to the life of a Goddess." Fay spoke softly, her eyes glued ahead, not bothering to return the fierce gaze Margaret fired at her face. She clenched her fist, "We all have to bow our heads to one thing or the other… I am just glad not to be in chains."
"No, this is different! Sooner or later, he will have you do things that—"
"I don't want to do?" Fay interrupted Margaret, "It is no different than that of Royalty. The only difference is that they call us subhuman peasants. The nobles treat us commoners as slave for the pleasure of their stomachs. At least, Requiem does not brand us as beneath other humans."
"You don't understand my brother half the way I do!" Margaret shrugged off Yver's hand, a flare in her eyes as she approached Fay, glaring the woman into the eyes, "He is of royal blood, and all he sees in your slaves, are pawns he can manipulate for his own misgivings."
Fay turned to Margaret, "You only oppose him because you fail to bend him to your wishes. I've never felt this free in a long time, given I am a slave to the laws that you — your royal lot — uphold with such fervour. Yet, in the time of despair, he had offered us hope."
"Hope to be enslaved to a new master?" Yver finally spoke, looking at Fay as if she had lost her mind. She floated forward, moving around with the fog, until she was between Fay and Margaret, a strange emotion in her eyes as she lifted her hands to touch Fay's face, "Is that the real reason?"
Fay lifted her hands and grabbed Yver's arms, opening her mouth to speak in a soft voice, "If to be free, I will have to enslave my life to the will of one man — I will gladly do it. It is natural wanting to follow others, I at least I have a say in who will lead me or not."
She pulled Yver's hand from her face, "Bowing before the greater authority to stand above all in existence. I am not the strongest, or smartest and if bowing to him would make the difference in our pathetic lives, then I — and many others — would gladly lay our lives."
——
Towering over the dead bodies of the bandits that had set off the explosions to collate the gates, the massive man glared down fiercely, his hand gripped tight around his dagger. He had butchered all of them, ensuring that not a sign of life would flash into those eyes for a thousand years.
"It is done, Lord."
He muttered, bowing his head, the blood of the bandits he slaughtered soaking his hair dripped to the ground, staining the white ice in a pale red. After observing a moment of silence for the dead, he turned around and left, leaving the expressions of shock frozen on their faces.
Forever.