Chapter Text
Unease drifted through the ragged crowds as the steps of a fat politician were heard climbing the podium stairs. Gradually, with much huffing and puffing, a short, stubby man appeared, his face puffed from the exertion of climbing three steps. His outstretched fingers caught the hand of an IPC member, who helped him onto the stepstool behind the plinth.
While the man wheezed, Argenti sighed. This city had been under the protection of the Beauty, back when their power had been omnipresent, and it had flourished. But ever since they fell, the city and its management had fallen into shambles, relying on the IPC for funds to fuel the lifestyle of the rich, while their working class diminished at an alarming rate. He smoothed a lock of his hair, quietly standing by the fountain- dry and picked clean of any wishing coins- and cast a glance to his companion, Lazarus.
The navy-clad knight seemed restless too, twiddling his thumbs and pacing an aimless path around the fountain. He was going to pace himself into a dizzy spell if he carried on. Despite the situation, Argenti smiled lightly and caught his arm, halting the man.
"My friend, calm your mind. Would you like to sit with me?" He gestured to the fountain wall, sweeping his cloak beneath him as he sat.
Hesitantly, Lazarus followed his lead, his movements akin to a jointed doll. "I fear that he will denounce Idrila's name and push this wretched city further into oblivion. If he does, I will not hesitate to hasten his demise." His voice darkened to a chilling growl, and Argenti nearly snapped his neck staring at him. Beneath the other knight's collar, a strange black tendril snaked slowly behind his ear, entwining itself in his short, deep brown locs.
Just as he was about to reach out to brush the intruding root away, the politician's shrill voice, amplified by the IPC's drones, boomed in the square, startling him.
"My people! My good, hardworking people! Today we are gathered to celebrate our freedom from the claws of the dead Beauty!"
Argenti's fingers dug into Lazarus' arm, and he could see the man's jaw tighten. He knew that if Lazarus were to go for the kill, as he had only just revealed, he would need more than just the strength of one man to stop him.
"No more shall we suffer fear and poverty under those pretentious knights who parade their dead goddess on their dignity!"
"Gentle Lazarus, do not-"
"Idrila is not dead! My companion still hears their voice! I will not stand for the slander of their name!" Attempting to draw his sword, he lunged forwards, out of Argenti's grasp, his blade almost catching a few innocent citizens in his anger.
But the politician merely smiled at the provocation.
"Cast your eyes to those knights, my dear people! Do you not see how dangerous they are? One weak and complacent while the other threatens our freedom! Do you truly wish to live under this poor excuse for protection?"
As thorns sprouted from the cobblestones beneath Lazarus' feet, Argenti remained rooted to the ground for a split second- for in his head, the familiar murmurs had uttered what he would soon lament to be its final command. "End his suffering."
And he, for once, hesitated to follow the order. At least, his mind did.
His lance, embedded squarely between Lazarus' shoulderblades, pierced straight through the corrupted heart of the bloodcrazed knight.
The world around them fell silent. the stares of the citizens becoming distant pinpricks that poked dully upon their armour. Metal clattered to the ground in a silent din, as thorns claimed the body as their own. Argenti, his lance discarded, wrapped his quickly-decomposing friend in his metal-clad arms, apologies tumbling from his mouth as he laid his head upon Lazarus' chestplate, scarlet locks stained with blood that was not his own.
Though shock still tinged across his face, Lazarus forced a smile. "Did Idrila gaze upon me? She bade you kill me?" In a clumsy attempt to see Argenti's face a final time, he weakly tapped the knight's exposed cheek, glistening emerald eyes threatening tears as he raised his head.
"They did, dear friend. You will die beautifully… as she commanded." His words choked out as he realised what his devotion caused him do, yet seeing Lazarus' relief, the clench gripping his heart loosened.
"Then do not cry, sweet Argenti. I am glad to die by Idrila's judgement and your merciful lance." His dying whispers echoed in Argenti's mind as the knight dissolved into thorned blue roses in his arms. Beautiful indeed. He raised a bud to his lips, offering an intimate farewell, tucking it beneath his chestplate to preserve the remains of his cherished companion before standing amid the crowd of innocents who had just witnessed such a strange murder.
As he adjusted back to reality, the metallic stench of death assaulted his senses, blood drying, cracking on his gloved fingertips, his face soaked in tears, sapphire petals clinging to bloodied silver. Blank, fearful stares as the crowd shrank away, afraid to become the next victim.
Having proven his point, in a rather odd manner, the stubby politician somehow smiled wider, his toothy grin promising nothing but pain for everybody under his command. "I admit, I was hasty to judge you, red knight. You are just as bloodthirsty as your former companion! For your crime, witnessed by all present, you will be sentenced to a lifetime of manual labour!"
Picking up his lance, reverently wiping the blood from its blade, Argenti prepared to strike again.
"With all due respect, Sir, I refuse. My companion was distraught by an illness that only Idrila's most beloved are fraught by, and thus did she bid me to strike him down. I acted in defense of you and your people, as well as upon the word of my goddess.
"I swore to protect this planet, and its people. And you are a threat to its peace. And so, in the name of my dear companion, Lazarus of the Honourclad, I shall be the one to cease your existence."
He had left hastily, the politician's blood still wet on his hands as he shifted the small emergency spacecraft into warp and was halfway across the galaxy before the bodyguards could even react. But it was quiet.
Gone was the familiar sight of the devilishly risky pilot who drove rings around him on boring flights. Silent was the comm channel, the gentle voice absent. The copilot's seat remained cold. The dashboard was cluttered with astrophysics textbooks and maps and trinkets that Argenti would have never chosen himself, like the strange-looking stuffed creature that Knight Galahad insisted looked like him, which he had vigorously denied, but unfortunately, Lazarus had agreed, and had hung the creature from the air conditioner vents. He poked it as he set the craft to autopilot, and watched it swing for a moment before stepping through the cabin door.
Water splashed cold on Argenti's pale skin, the confined space of the acrylic shower almost comfortingly claustrophobic. The dimly-lit, cramped living space aboard his hidden vessel hummed with electricity, the broken florescent lights buzzing and flickering, his reflection blurring in the small mirror. Black marred his fingertips, his hands scrubbed raw, yet the marks wouldn't fade. As he combed through his hair in an attempt to ground himself, he found traces of the strange black mar lurking upon his roots, pushing away from the mirror and burying himself in his synthetic blanket.
What was wrong with him?
The cold blanket was of little comfort. Argenti's unfocused eyes drifted to the slightly wilted rosebud that laid on his bedside shelf, and he shuffled closer to it on his knees, reaching out and cradling the delicate bloom in his blackened fingers.
It still smelled like him. Bergamot cologne and rainy evening walks fading into the fog.
A warm laugh rumbled in his ears, carefree and comforting, before guilt stabbed at his heart again, the little bud clasped to Argenti's chest as he doubled over, the frosty consequences of his actions all too much for him to bear.
"Idrila… blessed Idrila, never have I doubted your decisions...," he choked, his prayer barely forming in his throat, "But Knight Lazarus was truly your most devoted follower… did you truly deem one such as I to be his worthy executioner? I am too weak, I cannot shoulder this burden… Idrila…"
No reply came. A ragged sigh whispered response, but Idrila spoke no more.
His conscience guided him to Penacony, his feet to the confessional of the Bronze Melodia.
Anything to ease the pain in his heart, even if it meant praying to the Harmony.