Tick, tick, tick.
A clock sat on the far side of the throne room, just above a long table that held various maps and battle diagrams, along with other scrolls and folders.
It was strange. Each one of the clock's rigid hands was completely still.
Except only for the hour hand. But it wasn't reading the hour properly.
From eleven to twelve, from one to two. It was rapidly bouncing from hour to hour for every second that passed.
At random intervals, its speed would suddenly increase; other times, it would do the exact opposite and slow to a crawl.
It's as if it were reacting to something. It ticked. It rapidly changed its pace randomly; its actions and movements almost gave the impression of a deeper presence. A mind of its own.
Though whatever it was is unclear.
And yet, a lone woman's cold, piercing gaze settled upon the clock—her arms crossed on her chest as she stood intensely firm.
She bore a very imposing appearance—clad in ornate silver-plated armor, every single part of her body was heavily armored from the snug layered pauldrons on her shoulders all the way down to the greaves that lead into her sleek steel boots.
A single longsword was strapped diagonally across her back, its hilt peeking over the shoulder.
Something about her features was almost intoxicating the longer you watched. Long, straight black hair with very vivid purple highlights—her hair was partially pulled back at the crown, allowing the rest to fall freely down the back, reaching past the shoulders and down the armor.
And finally, glowing purple eyes.
Deep Purple.
Her skin itself was beautiful. A deep, warm brown. But shifting closer to the left side of her face, you could notice something very strange…
A dark facial pattern seemingly originating from her eye—it looked almost like a tattoo, and it streaked from her temple down far past her neck.
It heavily blackened the surrounding area around her eyes, the pattern of the markings themselves like sinuous dark veins or even flowing ink underneath the skin.
There was beauty even in the markings, but still, it soured her nearly mythical appearance.
Like a blemish in a beautiful painting.
The woman continued to glare at the clock, subconsciously squeezing the palm of her detailed gauntlet, the rubber reacting to every slow grip and twist.
Without moving even an inch, her eyes quickly darted to something approaching behind her—though her stern demeanor didn't change, if anything, it only grew colder from the sound of the footsteps.
As if she knew exactly who would accompany the sound.
"Ugh. Honestly… You mention the king in your every waking breath, and now you're even beginning to behave like him." A masculine voice said from behind, his words inquisitive, but his tone was anything but.
He teetered on the edge of mocking, as if it were a familiar playground to him. The woman didn't even need to turn around to know that he was wearing a dangerous smile—one she'd seen many times.
Usually towards his enemies. Though sometimes, even against his allies.
To this very day, she never understood why the king trusted this snake. Or even had any need for him.
A conversation with him was like dancing between daggers and knives.
"Tell me, what are you two looking for in that warped old clock?" The voice said sardonically.
The woman finally turned her head, not granting him the grace of her full attention, but she finally was able to lay eyes on him.
If she ever had the unfortunate opportunity to meet the devil, she's sure he'd look exactly like this man.
A long crimson robe resting upon layers of blue-grey garments, with obnoxious gold geometric traces.
The instant you look at him, you immediately begin to feel uneasy, though it isn't because of his outfit.
It's his face, his symmetrically shaped jawline, blond hair that's pulled back into a short tied ponytail, gorgeous green eyes, and skin so porcelain it's as if the blood has been drained from his cheeks.
As soon as you meet him, it's like his very appearance is trying to sell you on his lies.
The woman curled her lip in disgust. "Hold your tongue, Impius. It is bad enough I have to spend even a second in your deplorable presence."
Impius chuckled devilishly. "Oh come now, Solus. Such boorishness is unbecoming of a woman of your position."
"We are the Kingsguard, trickster. Not diplomats." Solus spat, turning back to the strange clock, only to catch a glimpse of Impius's sickening smile in the glass's reflection.
"Though, politics is properly suited for a spineless worm such as you." She scowled.
Impius just laughed, turning away slowly as he traced the dagger on his hip with a finger.
CRASH!
A sudden loud thud forced Solus and Impius to jerk their heads upwards; the noise was accompanied by a figure falling through the roof.
As the person fell, Solus and Impius both caught a glimpse of their appearance: curly, flowing rose-pink hair, fair skin, and…
Two large wings protruding from her back, white as pure driven snow.
They knew who this was.
"Oof!" The figure yelped as she made contact with the room's marble flooring.
Though, like nothing at all had happened, she quickly sprang up with a cheery laugh, patting the debris from her gray-blue, embroidered coat. Her imposing wings fluttered about gracefully, seemingly uninjured from the fall.
She then sternly placed one hand on her hip and pointed at the both of them, an air of jest lingering in her expression.
"Hey! Stop it! You two are my most favorite people in the world; I can't handle it when you fight…!"
Impius coyly placed a finger to his lip, raising his eyebrow—a slight smirk escaping him. "Hm. Didn't you say that about those two stray cats we saw in District 7 yesterday?"
As if on cue, the woman suddenly started fighting back tears—her eyes swelled, and her face began to shift into an expression you'd see on a sad puppy.
She sniffled. "But… They were so lonely, and they only had each other…" She sobbed, wiping her face with her sleeve.
"Why can't I have two favorite people in the world, Impius!?" She then began full-on bawling, her crying seeming to unsettle Impius a bit, slowly turning his face away with a slight look of displeasure.
The woman suddenly ceased her weeping on a whim, her eyes sparkling like stars as she seemingly remembered Solus was in the room.
"Oh my Light! Solus! It's really you!" She gasped, and her wings rapidly began to flutter, carrying the woman over to where Solus stood.
Solus yelped as the woman flung herself on her back. "A-Argh! Amare! Y-You just saw me the other day…"
Amare peeked over Solus's forehead with a gleeful smile, positioning her eyes uncomfortably close to hers. "Yes, I know! But now I get to see you today! What a joy!"
Amare joyfully swung back and forth, rocking Solus—who seemed to be more flustered than angry. She scarcely showed it, but one could get the sense she didn't mind all that much.
"Yes, yes. That's very nice." "Impius," he said, examining his fingernails with a disinterested expression. "Though, I must admit I am curious…"
"Where were you these past few days, Solus? It isn't like you to just disappear without so much as even a call. Do tell." Impius grinned, letting his gaze linger on her.
Solus's look of indifference quickly grew into disgust as Impius spoke once more; she glared. "… An old acquaintance unfortunately found himself back on my radar, and if I were you, I wouldn't worry so much about my business.
You should worry that you may be next." She kept her voice even, not affording Impius much emotion to mock.
He could only stand there with a stiff smile—both of them holding a spiteful stare, neither refusing to break their facade.
"…Curious." A voice broke the silence. Though, it was not Amare's.
They all knew exactly who spoke, and like dominoes, one by one, Amare, Impius, and Solus each fell to a knee.
Instinctively bowing their heads in respect, or maybe from something else—instilled deep into their being.
Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter.
In the presence of Aetheron Lychinus, all heads will bow.
"I recall being informed this 'rebellion' was squashed under heel." Aetheron said, eyes gleaming with gold, standing tall above his three subjects.
"…Yet, you allow a group of these petulant insects to tread their boots on my kingdom."
Each of their bodies stiffens; they dare not raise their heads even a bit—to not risk angering the king even further.
"I thought I said I wanted them GONE." Aetheron nearly growled. "…And I remember this being your task, Solus."
Aetheron stood just outside of the room's vast, open doorway, and yet his glare felt like daggers into Solus's back.
She took a deep breath and finally spoke. "I… I apologize, my king; I was…"
"Distracted." Impius cut in, a devilish smirk curling his lips.
Solus snarled at him as she met his mischievous glance, still taking care not to raise her head.
"…Rise, my Kingsguard." Aetheron commanded.
Amare, Impius, and Solus all quickly stood at attention, finally meeting the gaze of their king properly.
As always, any trace of emotion was absent from his expression. He didn't even seem disinterested or absent, just… calculating.
He suddenly shifted his gaze to the war table, his regal robe glistening as he methodically approached it. "Yes… I'm aware. I sensed him as soon as he set foot in District 8."
Solus's ears suddenly perked up.
"…A shame, there was a time he was my best soldier." Aetheron said. "But it doesn't matter. Every old mistake has a face."
Solus suddenly felt the king's glare land on her again; a chill shot through her back as she tried to keep her steely composure.
"You've already allowed the colluding forces of the underworld to best me once, Benevolentia. But I won't tolerate defeat merely from the ghosts of the past. Do you understand me?" He said.
Solus bowed her head once again, this time raising a closed fist to her heart.
"My king… I won't fail you again." She then raised her head, a wildfire in her eyes. "I will bring you their heads."
Aetheron didn't respond; he fell silent for a moment—his attention turning to the ticking clock that hung above the table, his otherwise empty expression turning into a low scowl.
"…I do not want their heads." He said, a slight tinge of annoyance sneaking through his tone. "What I want, you cannot give me."
Each of the Kingsguard glanced at each other warily, unsure of the king's meaning—uncertain if they should inquire further.
Aetheron walked towards the strange clock, breaking neither sight nor stride as he stared intensely, as if he saw something embedded into its very material.
"Hm." He regarded the clock with an enigmatic raise of his eyebrow. "Though, Impius may have a point. What use does a clock have if it cannot tell the time?"
You could visibly see the moment Impius's heart dropped to his knees; he quivered at the very thought of the king eavesdropping on their earlier conversation.
But he very quickly regained his composure, swallowing what felt like a needle in his throat. "…My lord?" He said, his prior mocking demeanor completely vanishing.
Aetheron turned his neck slightly, bestowing Impius his attention. "It was a question. What use does a clock have if it cannot tell the time?"
…
"Um…" Amare cut in. "It's broken, so… none? It doesn't really have a purpose now, right?"
Aetheron paused a moment before responding; he seemed to ponder her response. "…If I broke your legs and slashed your eyes, would you still have a purpose?"
Amare froze; though she didn't sense any imminent malice from his question, she warily replied. "I-I… hope that I would…? I don't think I need my legs or even my vision to be strong…"
Upon hearing this, Aetheron fully turned around, his large robe covering his entire body, his attention now with Amare. "That's right. So if inherent worth cannot be measured by physical means, can it then only be measured by the psychological?
If your frontal lobe is crushed tomorrow, would you then finally lose your purpose?" He continued.
Aetheron got even closer to Amare, her gaze never leaving his eyes, an overwhelming sense of panic rising in her body, until he finally stood firmly in front of her and spoke.
"…No, because a purpose is not a measurement of worth; it is a driving force, a cause, and reality is comprised solely of cause and effect."
"So, I'll ask all of you one last time."
It was as if the room had been robbed of its air, and what took its place was an irrepressible feeling of dread.
"What use does a clock have if it cannot tell the time?"
…
"A warning." Solus suddenly spoke.
All eyes in the room immediately focused on her, including the king's.
"…When a clock can no longer tell the time, it instead becomes a sign of it. A warning to others, for it is a product of the times rapidly approaching." She said.
The two other Kingsguard stared at Solus with admonishment, nervous because they still don't quite understand. However, Solus stood her ground.
"…Correct, Solus." The king said, still not a hint of commendation in his voice, despite his praise.
He then suddenly turned around hurriedly and made his way towards the exit.
"Take any soldiers, weapons, or airships you may need. I want Tenebris and its neighboring cities back under control. I don't care what you have to do." He shouted out orders without so much as a second glance their way.
Then, stopped walking completely. "But, I will tell you this, and I will only tell you once."
He turned his head in their direction, eyes gleaming brighter than any light in this room or than any star could possibly hope to in the sky.
"…Do not make me come down there."