Work Text:
Wels was never one to panic.
Always the level-headed member of the castle, always one the Emperor can always rely on, especially on bearing bad news to the people — something the council had agreed to be Wels's specialty, seeing as neither His Imperial Majesty nor his personal guard is one to set a stoic face upon destruction and agony.
He scanned the scroll in his hand once again; tracing the barely decipherable cursive of Emperor Ren. To be honest, he wasn't sure why he kept on giving the note a re-read. It's not like the fading announcement written on it will change any time soon; but he did wish otherwise.
"Welsknight?"
His heart skipped several beats at the innocent whisper. Upon instinct, he watched as his trembling arm reached for his sword, loyally lying on the wooden desk, all sharpened and prepared. The act of taking the blade left his already-confused mind even more blank. Sword. Yeah. What else did he need? What was he doing, again?
"Sir?"
"Yes!" He turned to the door. One of the castle servants stood there, her face tinted orange from the dim torchlight, the shadows dancing in sync with the fire — one that often brought comfort, despite never doing anything to add up warmth — they looked eerie instead tonight. What was her name again? Wasn't it Pat? There was several Pats on the castle. Was this Patience or Patricia? Why was she looking for him? Ah, yes — the scroll. Wait. What?
"Sorry." Wels rubbed his temple, giving Pat an apologetic smile. "My head feels like it's full of spaghetti tonight. What's up?"
"His Imperial Majesty wanted to see you now," she said. "You got his request."
"I did," Wels said. "I did. I did. I did, I did, I did."
He returned his sword to its sheath, heading outside his office to the chilly hallways with no hesitation — no time for that now, no matter what his heart is telling him. Logic and rationality always goes first. His entire body felt like it's working on autopilot, for his mind was whizzing around with nonsenses that he cannot seem to shove away.
"Sir, are you okay?"
"I am, Pat," Wels hastily said, gripping his blade tighter, "I am. Don't worry."
He made his way outside, leaving Pat concerned.
For someone who'd been faithfully serving himself for this empire and living in this very castle for half his life, Wels sure is a mess when it came down to navigation. What is wrong with him tonight? Welsknight is never confused, or scared, or unsure. People rely on him, both the royalties and the peasants; and he can't have off days, he simply can't.
He knew these hallways by heart; by muscle memory. Knew that torches were placed every two metres, and that the First Guard — Iskall's — wife, Stress, was it? - had bewitched the flames to dance around, as mirrorred by the shadows, and that the one torch near the grand entrance can never be lit, much to everyone's frustration. Knew the rather low temperatures of the castle, one that has never been explained — it's just always cold all year-round. Knew how his armour would occasionally clang a pure, clear noise when it hit the gold Emperor Ren had insisted to throw around the building. Greedy people, the royalties were, but Wels wouldn't change his loyalties for anything.
But tonight; there was no noises of gold, no chatters of the servants gossiping, no screams and yells from the First Guard's children playing Tag or whatever else kids get up to.
Instead, all Wels could hear was music — eerie, soft music, singing notes he wasn't familiar with at all. No matter where he went, he could hear the quiet sing-song, as if they were following him around. Even his occupied mind managed to catch some of the lyrics — albeit not all of them, for he was tired; just tired.
Falling down, my fair lady.
—
Wels slipped the scroll to his pockets. His fingers felt the gleaming, polished knocker — freezing, like everything else around the compound. Still trembling, much to his annoyance, but he knew this was just some stupid physical response for some creepy auditory hallucinations. Welsknight is never afraid.
"Come in!"
"Your Imperial Majesty." Wels made his way to the throne room and bowed, still trying to shake off the fear and panic inside him. "You requested my presence?"
"I did." Emperor Ren stood up. "You see, Wels, bad things are happening to the Renpire. And I know you just went back from your break, but please know that this decision I'm about to tell you is for the best. I had consulted Iskall and Stress, and they both agreed."
He gestured to the door. "Follow me."
Wels obeyed, despite him internally feeling his heart drop to his stomach. Ren was right — he did leave the kingdom just a few weeks ago for personal reasons. As comical as it was, having bad things suddenly happen to the Renpire just by his absence, he still hated it — he knew he's going to disagree with whatever Ren's decision would be for whatever this issue was.
"Take a look," Ren ordered, nodding at a broad set of windows at the end of the hallway. "You'll see that something's off."
The iron from Wels's armour squeaked as he brushed off a layer of vapour condensating on the glass, the noise making him cringe. He peered downwards, to where the middle-class people lived.
Or rather — not, for it was quiet. No one was seen wandering down the roads, trading or tending to crops and livestocks, none at all. As if the village died out.
As if everyone just — left, leaving the village alone, stopped in time.
Too quiet. Wels couldn't hear anything from his distance, but despite noises being a good source of clues, he's not as optimistic that what he could hear would be anything good. His brain's been having auditory hallucinations this entire time, after all.
"Let's go back," Ren said, his voice making Wels jump. "But let me tell you the plan for now, Wels: we need to leave. As soon as possible."
"Leave?" Wels asked in disbelief. "Ren, what's going on?"
The Emperor didn't respond. In fact, he stayed quiet the entire way back to his throne, tracing over the stone and marble on the walls like he'd suddenly gained a profound interest for them. All the while, Wels's mind started flowing with worst-case scenarios yet again — before itcame back.
The music.
This time, Wels caught the lyrics — a familiar one, yet he couldn't put his finger on it.
London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady.
He barely acknowledged himself following Ren, all he saw was Ren's cloak swishing on the corners of his eye as he tried catching up, but Wels couldn't exactly say he knew what he was doing. His entire body still felt like they worked on autopilot, and before he knew it, they're back at the throne room.
Ren absently pulled on his beard as he spoke. "I'm sure you know about plagues."
"A mandatory thing for everyone to understand," Wels agreed, annoyed that his Emperor isn't getting to the point. "What about the Renpire?"
"It's rather a mess." Ren took off his crown, revealing the wolf ears he's been concealing from everyone outside of his inner circles, the ears twitching anxiously. "The townsfolk are losing their minds — and you need to understand — they're literally losing their minds, and I can't handle this anymore. They're pulling their hairs out, biting their nails — oh, it wasn't a good sight. They make themselves bleed and they could barely communicate — just grumbles and growls — and I need to do something.
"Stressy said it was some form of magic, and she's staying to do research on this mysterious mental plague — but we have to leave before we go crazy as well. I've been hearing things in my head for days now —"
"I did as well," Wels cut off in relief. "Oh, I absolutely did not expect anyone else to hear those creepy songs. But —" he blinked, "— leave?"
Ren sighed.
"I didn't want to either, at first. Somehow, we need to keep the Empire intact, and I, along with Iskall and Stress, can't do this alone. So," he turned to Wels, his blue eyes piercing to the knight's own ones, the charm and charisma he owned only intimidating Wels even more, "we'll need allies."
Wels raised an eyebrow.
"Who's on your mind?"