It didn't take long for Arthur to finally return to Sir Bertrand's demesne after dealing with a beating, a declination for a different and easier future, and the return of an umbrella, though that was thanks to not stopping to make conversation with anyone.
Although, it was up to everyone else to determine whether or not that was the best decision, given his previous mess up of destroying the floor. It might've been better for him to not return.
The interior was much like that of a castle, inlaid with silky, polished tiles that partially reflected the light from the torches hung against several pillars, laid from one end of the room to the other. In the centre, a long, brown table wore an even longer green cloth spanning its length. Many chairs rested in the centre of this room, while a window, behind the chair furthest across the table, presented a display of the water's reflection of the fiery sky.
Arthur stood across one end of the table. Along the sides, many men wearing a black cloak over maroon robes sat in silence, bearing the look of men with a religious objective. Standing guard, in front of each of the pillars, were knights clad in iron armour and the shiniest burgonets with their visors closed, holding on to their sheathed weapons.
Across the table from Arthur was none other than Sir Bertrand and his esquire—wearing chainmail underneath a red tunic, which was underneath a leather belt wrapped around the waist—who stood off to the noble's left.
"Thou hath marred the floor with mine great mace!" Sir Bertrand yelled in his raucous voice as he slammed a fist against the table, launching the several goblets into the air. "Thou hast failed to procure the coin from Wendell! And that stain upon thy face! Hast thou visited a brothel whilst away? How dost thou aim to mend thy faults?"
"'Tis upon mine obligation as thy page to mend mine faults," Arthur replied, hating every second of this manner of speech, though he dared not show it. "I shall bring forth the coin to mend thy floor I marred, and I shall bring forth the coin to bear the expense of settling Wendell's debt."
"Bring forth the coin to bear the expense?" repeated Sir Bertrand, raising a brow. "Arthur, why wouldst I have paid thee thy meager wage if I could seize thy funds?"
"I… I know not, Lord Bertrand."
The creases on Sir Bertrand's forehead darkened, his brows struggled to stay in place, and his face beamed red as he said:
"Then begone from my presence forthwith! Lest I banish thee from mine demesne!"
"F-forgive me, my lord," Arthur said, lowering his head before he stepped out of the room.
Unsure of what to do after a few minutes of standing in silence and staring at the red carpet beneath his feet, Arthur began questioning his fate as he thought:
'If Sir Bertrand banishes me, then I won't be able to survive. Especially not with the scourge coming up any time this year. I don't know what to expect from it.'
He touched the side of his face and looked at his fingers to find a red stain on it. Though, it wasn't until Sir Bertrand pointed it out that he remembered his encounter with the noble lady.
'I should've gone with Lady Emma' he thought, sighing as his shoulders sunk.
"Arthur!" a voice yelled as the doors leading to the great hall slammed open.
Arthur looked back upon hearing his name called, only to find the esquire, who yelled his name, being scolded by Sir Bertrand's piercing voice for slamming the doors.
"F-forgive me, Lord Bertrand," the esquire apologized profusely, turning his attention to Arthur after closing the doors, gently. The esquire, whispered so that their narcissistic lord wouldn't hear their informal speech:
"Lord Bertrand is giving you one more chance to go and collect the debt. Go and retrieve it by sundown. The day is growing old, and you have not much time left."
Arthur, with newfound hope for securing his safety, quickly ran off without a word, knowing full well that Lord Bertrand would not be giving him a third chance to prove his worth. As he ran, he took a look for the sun, eager to see how much time he had left, but was immediately blinded by an unusually bright sun.
"Why is it so bright today?" he wondered as he ran, observing a sky that was much darker than the bright sun would have suggested. "Well, no matter. I'll just have to retrieve the coin. I pray Mister Wendell will understand my predicament."
Arthur ran, with as much force as he could muster, eager to claim a seat for his name in the future, for he had no intention to be of the ones left to perish in the scourge.
"Oh Sabaoth, the one who is with me," Arthur said, running past the masses of statues that held their hands together above their heads in circles, as though they augured a ruination to come. "The one I know as Sabaoth; the one whose will I live by; the one whose will I act by, save me from the scourge. Don't even let me see it."
He prayed aloud, while those who remained in these parts of Erthyl watched him run with the wind as he added:
"Let me stay within the comfort of a roof over my head; with food and drink to keep me sated; and sleep to keep me at peace."
And before he knew it, he had once again arrived into the estranged part of Erthyl. The part that truly begged the question:
"Is this really still Erthyl?"
He knocked on the door under the bridge as he listened to the voice of Wendell yelling in anger as he approached.
"… Sick o' these damn solicitors and their—"
"Mister Wendell, please. You must help me," Arthur begged, struggling to catch his breath, this time standing a decent distance back so as not to get knocked over by the door as he added:
"If you don't repay your debt to Sir Bertrand, then I'll be banished from Sir Bertrand's demesne! I'll die out here! You said it yourself: This year's a Totalis! I can't die to the scourge. Please sir, you must help me!"
Wendell shook his head as his slackened jaw yawed, spitting off to the side and saying:
"I spare ya my undivided attention, and ya come back 'ere spoutin' the same nonsense, huh? Well I ought to give your arse me undivided beatin'!"
"Don't do it, Mister Wendell. It's not worth it," Arthur pleaded, wondering just why the old man was so stubborn about repaying the debt. "We're both going to suffer if you don't pay the debt, sir."
"You're threatenin' me ya damn slimy bastard?" Wendell yelled, grabbing a scythe from a hidden compartment. "I was one o' them pilgrims! Ya can't threaten me ya lousy twat!"
Arthur fell on his back as Wendell raised his scythe, cowering behind his hands as he pushed against the ground.
The old man's voice turned into a growl. "I'll show—"
But just as quickly as he had prepared to swing his scythe, everything went dark. No longer was there an orange sky and beautiful clouds that looked like a watercolour painting.
Arthur, unaware of what was happening, only opened his eyes as Wendell dropped his scythe in disbelief, letting the metal echo across the street. It felt hard to breathe, but he felt no pain, only his quaking body as he feared death.
"This can't be," Wendell mumbled as he looked at the darkened sky. "It's here." Goosebumps ran across his body while his eyes stared as though they were glued to the very thing that caught his eye.
"W-what is it?" Arthur asked, standing up quickly, keeping a considerable distance from Wendell. But as he beheld a sight that which he never could've imagined, so too did his eyes stare and tremble, along with his quivering, hung jaw.
"Behold," Wendell said as he took a few steps forward to stand outside the bridge's underpass, "the Black Sun. The Totalis."
They stared in silence, watching a perfectly black circle highlighted by a white ring that looked like it was burning, as the white light kept dissipating into the air like smoke.
As Erthyllians had come to understand, the fear of the unknown was one common in all, undoubtedly so...
But beyond it was to fear nothing and the perfect shape of nothingness; an abyss that peered back into one's soul...
And beyond even that, the monsters...
"Mister Wendell, look!" Arthur yelled his whisper, pointing at the total solar eclipse. "Is that a hand?"
"I told ya, boy," Wendell replied in a lifeless voice, enthralled by the sight. "This year is a Totalis. Coin is worth nothin' when there's a Totalis."
And indeed, a coin held no worth in the world where monsters crawled outside of the Black Sun, peering into the world of Erthyl as they let out screeches of horror, enough to make the hair on one's arms stand, marking the start of the scourge.