Chapter 4-Virtue To Be Per Se
Qilltas was a small village. Ponds lay all around, near the center of Pasrel. Far away, the capital, PasrelWhill, slept quietly. Today, the quarterly judgement came here, far from the city, to keep the capital safe from fear and trouble.
Inside the courtesy chamber, the air was heavy. Guilt and regret pressed down on everyone. No one felt remorse. Only cold, thick shame. A high window let sunlight fall straight to the center of the room. The light shone bright on all that was happening below.
Through the window, a few gulls slipped in. Their eyes rolled, sharp and hungry. They saw food in the sunlight. They dived. Their prey? The rotten flesh of Tenser Duix's skull.
Near the skull, P. Duix lay still, like he was in hell itself. The gulls jumped on him, pecked for a moment, and then were gone, back out through the same window.
Suddenly, P. Duix woke, as if from the grave. A wave of pain shook him. He coughed, his soul crushed. Then he laughed. Hard. He punched the ground with his fists, still staring at the ceiling like he was half-asleep.
Then, a cry tore from him.
"Seems like it happened…"
He kept staring at the high window, whispering, trembling,
"Why… why is the sky dark red? I did no wrong… why am I here?"
PART 1- Death and Devil
"This place… looks the same as I thought in duration… filth, rotten, most of it dark…
What's behind me? Oh… doors. Doors of dark. Different personas captured… forced lessons for what they did in their so-called glorious days… maybe not glorious. Maybe this is also me, my persona trapped in those doors.
They're saying 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.'
It feels like dying again.
Something behind me. A shadow.
Ahhh—minions. Why are they grabbing me? No… no… don't lead me to the Devil.
I didn't go wrong. I didn't go wrong. Spare my life. Spare my life…
Oh my God… sorry…
Now… now I'm in the presence of the Obsidian Throne.
Dark. Spikes carved into it.
No—that's not stone.
It's made of sin, despair, sadness… the first and most powerful feelings ever to enter Hell.
It's literally made of pain.
Why is the Hellknight sitting on the throne?
No… no, Inferno Guards, I don't want to hurt him. I'm just dead curious.
What can you kill that's already dead?
Thank you, Hellknight… for telling them to go back.
Wait… what?
You're not the Hellknight?
Oh… King… you're the Devil.
Sorry, sire. I didn't mean it like that.
I thought the Devil was always young, not old and sick.
I thought you were the Hellknight.
What are my sins, Lord?
Why am I talking like this?
No… no… I'm not weird.
I'm just a dormant father.
A father who did nothing to save his son.
Not strong like Siken. Not tactical like Exxar.
I just wanted virtue… virtue to be per se.
Even though he's dead, I'm thinking of him in Heaven.
But why am I crying?
Why am I seeing his body on the soil?
This is my hallucination. He's in Heaven.
I can see it.
Now my hallucination is showing me his body without a head.
Where is the head?
Where is the fucking head?
Why did his head get stuck in the middle of crisis?
People making fun of his baby face… his innocence.
He just wanted glory without being my son.
I should've told him as a child—if you do the right things in this world, you will bear trauma.
I should've hit him in the past.
Shouldn't have let him befriend Morass.
Should've built four walls around him, kept him inside until death.
Instead of collecting glory and dying anonymously,
I would've forced the King to make him minister.
I could've used my powers.
I could've made his life subtle. Easy. Joyful.
Not filth. Not jealous people.
Please, my Devil King.
Spare my son.
Take my soul.
Grant me eternity.
Feed my memory to your minions.
Just spare my son.
Make me emotionless.
Erase me from the world.
I know you're the Devil.
You'll do as you wish.
…Is that boots?
Who wears such devilish boots?
It's the Devil. It's really him.
Why did the Hellknight sit on his throne?
To outsmart me?
I love your cruelty, sire.
I mean your charisma.
My son's floating body. His missing head. Everything.
And I don't see Oren Madello here.
Oh… so he's granted Heaven.
So like you.
Pleasure to be with you, sire.
This is the handshake with the Devil. From the rotten.
Why… why is the butcher saying stop joking around, sire?
Why? Why? Why? Why?"
(A distant, muffled voice cuts through the hallucination—Siken Dunkworlith in the real world):
"Stop joking around, Minister. Wake up. Spare Morass's hands. You cracked up."
P Duix mutters, still lost:
"Why… why… why… why… why?
Morass… what was your motivation to kill Tenser?"
PART 2- Flower as Head
P. Duix fell to his knees at Morass's feet. He cried out with a voice torn to pieces, begging the man for a reason. He reached, palms wet and trembling, trying to hold on to whatever broke inside him.
Siken touched Duix to lift him. "Sire, stand proud," Siken said, soft, trying to steady him.
Duix shoved Siken's hand away. He spat out words full of anger. "Don't say that with your false mouth."
Siken stared, taken back. "What did I do?" he asked.
Duix grunted, voice low and rough. "You did nothing. I know you. Vesil, huh? Your father figure. Your real father died in battle, yes?"
Siken's face hardened. "Why put my master and my father in this," he said, voice raw. "Why drag them into this mess?"
Duix's voice climbed. "There is reason. Every thing has its reason. Good men's infants and pupils rot when fate turns. They get corrupted, like always."
Siken straightened, humble but sharp. "So you are saying your son was rot? How can you sculpt his name with lies?"
Duix went wild. "How dare you speak of him?"
Siken answered steady. "I am not privileged to take that name."
Duix spoke slow, each word heavy with sorrow. "Why are you all so obsessed with my son? You all bullied him for being chubby when he was small. He tried to live without sorrow. He wanted him to have friends. He wanted him to be minister without my help. What wrong did he do? Was he sick at birth? Or born to be royalty?"
Siken said, "He did no wrong. To me he was equal to Morass. I am his teacher."
Duix cut in, bitter. "No. You always had more pity for Morass."
Siken said, "Because he is fatherless. Even motherless."
Duix's voice rose, hot and sharp. "Is that the reason the men from the east weep over mother and father? I say you are the reason. Morass met my son because of you. I will never forget your hand in it—will you?"
Siken's reply was quiet, wounded. "I am paternal, am I? From your mouth, sire. You are the one who pushed Morass to Espoirer. You touched his hair — did you not? You touched your son's flesh too. What are you doing now? cut own hand?"
Duix barked, raw. "This is the head of my son. Call it no other name."
Siken watched Morass. "I see guilt in his eyes. Morass has buried feelings — he is his friend, of course, he killed him out of sympathy."
Duix laughed sharp and ugly. "Sympathy. Nice word you give. So this man, Morass, who stands before me, killed his only friend out of sympathy. That is great. And out of sympathy — Siken, look at me — out of sympathy he brought his friend's head. Sympathy. Fine. I hear your sentence. I see guilt in Morass. He was Tenser's best friend."
Siken warned, "Don't be sarcastic, sir. I know your anger shows. But look at the heads. One head's flesh is scratched and torn — it looks chopped in rage. That is Oren's. The other looks plucked like a flower from a tree. So gentle. So calm. That is your son's. Don't you see the mercy in that?"
Duix stepped forward hard and slapped Siken. Hands grabbed him — Freyl Wiun and Quins Ray pulled at his arms.
Through the rough hold, Duix barked at Siken. "Think before you speak. How dare you call murder sympathy? Bringing a head as sympathy? Is that your teaching? Where is the rest of the man? Where is his body?"
He began to cry, huge and raw. Siken's own face broke with sorrow. The King sat still and cold, not wanting to lose Duix like he had lost Benzil.
Duix muttered again, voice thin and fierce. "You all are culprits. You all are culprits."
The King's voice cut in, steady command hard as a blade. "I see your pain, Duix. We cannot bear your loss alone. We will fund you for your loss."
Duix spat, fierce and broken. "Give me my son back, or kill Morass."
The King's face did not change. "I have no way to remove him now. He is the new Espoirer. Six ministers, seven vanguards, and twelve roddles — their vote will decide."
Duix rose, anger like a fire. "I object. I remove my vote."
The King answered calm. "That is not enough. All minister vanguards and roddles must vote to cancel. If there are two who favor him now, he will not be removed. Siken and…..? "
Exxar spoke up. "Me too, liege." He put his voice behind Morass.
Duix's face burned. "Why? Disrespect to my son's body. Now I see why Benzil went mad. He chopped and ruined your honor and this courtesy."
Exxar replied, "It is not only that. He abused the King."
Duix's voice hissed. "Benzil showed guts to the King. But his words hid him. Glazarc folk will come for us."
Exxar warned low, "Do not drag diplomats in, Duix. I leaned to your post — I can sort this with them."
Duix's tone flared. "Then what?"
Exxar's answer was cold. "High authority could strike you down. They will not care for your post. You will find yourself in a dump. Want to see that?"
Duix laughed, bitter. "Oh yes—salute your fine mind. Before I go to a dump, let me insult the King."
The King stayed calm. "Do not be hasty, Duix. You will have another child, yes?"
Duix sneered. "So what? I will not show the world this. I will keep him behind four walls. If he was chubby then good — he would not fit the race."
Exxar said, "Do not exaggerate."
Duix's voice trembled with danger. "How is one to live in this kingdom, with the man who killed my son standing before me and not speaking the reason? This jackass will shut his mouth for eternity."
He turned his eyes to Morass. The words dropped like a curse. "You will face your father's fate."
The King, torn in thought, leaned forward and ordered Morass to speak. He told him to tell all that burned in his heart.
PART 3- Truth
Morass leaned forward. He would not meet Duix's eyes. His voice was calm.
"That's right. I killed the son of P. Duix. Tenser Duix."
Duix snapped like a struck beast. "Say the proof, douchebag!"
Morass leaned more. He pushed two bloody fingers out — a thumb and a middle finger — toward Exxar.
Exxar blinked. "What in the world is that finger for?"
Duix spat, wild. "Oh, so you cracked my son's fingers for your evidence game. Out of mercy, wah."
Morass ignored him and told the King and Exxar slow, "A couple weeks ago I saw Tenser doing a suspicious thing in the Hall of Famel. On his hand. I went and asked out of curiosity. He stabbed me in the back. I have the mark."
Duix mocked. "So you are a weakling spy."
Morass did not answer. Duix kept barking.
Morass went on. "At that time I cut his thumb. The thumb nail had a code. I could not read it."
Duix shouted, "This is all your plotting!"
At that, Exxar removed the nail. He did it in one quick move. Blood flew. It sprayed over Duix. Duix gagged.
Exxar said, quiet and sharp, "Yes. There is a code."
Morass said, "After that, Tenser hid from the world. Somehow I found him in the east, in the region where Oren Madello hides. After another fight I found this other finger. I don't know whose it was."
Exxar took the nail, then threw the broken thumb toward Morass. Morass caught it with one hand.
Duix burst. "You know what? You are Oren's sucker, who plotted all along with Oren. I know Oren is not dead. You plotted Vesil's death. You plotted Siken to go to Glazarc just to kill my good son. What deal did you have with him, huh — douchebag of a dead father?"
Morass moved like a spring. He flung the thumb into Duix's face. It hit Duix full. He crushed that thumb there, in front of Duix, grinding bone and sticky flesh.
Siken shouted, "Stop. Calm down, Morass!"
Morass did not listen. He leaned in, cold. "This mudhead says I have been silent forever. Now I will break it."
Duix barked back, "Bark it!"
Morass's voice went flat and cruel. "Listen, motley crew. I am not the one who plotted. I don't know those plans. But I killed Oren Madello and I killed your so-called son. And I liked it. What shocks you, pukehead?"
Duix sneered, spitting. "Got some mustache on you, huh? Just like your father?"
Morass flared. "Don't call my father. I say he was a culprit. That is why I do not take his name. Look at me. I am nameless. Morass. I took my mother's name only."
Duix hissed, ugly. "I wish your mother would feel pins in her while you were in her womb."
Morass laughed, sharp. "Oh yes? That rotten mind of yours cooked this. You cry over a stale-fleshed skull while scrawl poop onto it. You are not a father. You are a jackass."
Duix growled, "You think my son wasn't like you? I wish your pardon."
Morass said, dark and low, "I think I can kill even the King for betraying Pasrel. Pasrel is all for me. I wish I die serving it, not by old age."
Duix spat. "I wish you die on the battlefield with Soilia. Let thousands of soldiers crush you as my gift."
Morass shrugged, "Well. I wish so."
Then, close to Duix's ear, Morass whispered like a blade, "I heard you are to have an infant. If it goes against Pasrel, I will kill it — even unborn, even inside your wife. I will bear it."
Duix went mad. He leapt at Morass. He stabbed the man five times with a flower dagger — hard, fast, yeh yeh yeh yeh yeh — driven by pure hate.
Exxar lunged, Siken grabbed, Quins Ray jumped in. "Hold him! Hold him!" they shouted. Hands pulled at Duix, tore him back. They struggled, hard.
Duix snarled through the fight. "I'll kill you if you do that. This world will hate you forever."
Duix snatched up the head of Tenser — it had been kicked, bloody and half torn — and held it to his chest.
The King's voice cut like ice. "Guards! Imprison Duix for one month!"
Another Kingly voice added, hard and low, "I can give the death-under-sun to Duix for attempting to kill an Espoirer. Yet I pass on it for now, for the sake of your grief."
Duix pulled and threw and roared. He broke two guards' grips. He ran out with the head clutched tight. A guard struck him hard and dragged him away. He fought like a beast and went out into the cold air.
The King faced Morass, voice steady. "You are now Espoirer. Yet you are suspended for six months. You work, but you hold no power until the decree is done."
Morass bowed, calm. "As you wish, High Command."
The King said, "It is true Morass meets eligibility. But we must check — was the kill legal or illegal? I order a three-man inquiry into Morass — named Trikel."
Morass answered, flat. "As you wish, sire."
Exxar said, "Now we must show a new Espoirer to the gathered folk outside."
The King gave permission. "We will hold the next courtesy in winter. Until then, serve well."
The King was about left for PasrelWhill, to calm the other diplomats.
Morass stood alone. He muttered low, blood on his fingers. "Now I must face the crowd's hate. They will spit on me for what I did. Is that easier than the past? Or is it that I remember that red man who came from my house on the Crimson Night?