In the Name of Justice: Chapter X
I think this one's pretty obvious, but Wilderness' name is in reference to the fact he has powers over earth. However, there's also a wider implication here, since he's the most independent of the Guardians. I'm thinking that maybe I shouldn't have made him such an angry character...
Chapter X
A Game of Wits
Justice’s eyes darted left and right before resting upon the one who’d spoken, a figure seated at a table with three others. Each stared at him with bemused expressions. He blinked, unable to form words due to the shock that had taken a hold of his senses.
The room, despite its fine furnishings, seemed almost inadequate to hold the men who sat within it; in fact, Justice felt as though he were looking upon a scene from a painting. It was no difficult task to place names to faces: perhaps the easiest to identify was Kircheis due to the striking predominance of blue in his clothing, a direct correspondence to the colour of his namesake element, water. It was in his hair, too - long, sea-coloured threads woven into sandy pale locks that fell either side of his face.
To his left sat a slightly taller, more sturdily-built individual who regarded Justice with a look of contempt - he could only presume from the rich gold and black designs adorning his clothes that he was Wilderness of the Earth. Seated directly opposite was Rafaga, the Guardian that represented wind and sky; though unlike the others, he appeared to have lost interest in the intruder, and was occupying himself with his fingernails instead.
However, the person who intrigued Justice most was the fourth figure, the one who had spoken: had he not heard his voice, the man may have been led to believe that he was female, with a body so fragile it seemed it would snap if mishandled. A deep red dominated his garments, yet whether it was closer to the colour of flames or blood Justice found it hard to tell. Perhaps the most mesmerising features, though, were his eyes: large, doll-like and so deep that the man found himself lost in them for a second.
Carbuncle of the Fire blinked - a long, lethargic motion - then crossed his legs, though it was Wilderness who brought forth words.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
They were not questions so much as orders, and the black-haired man was all but obliged to answer. Before he could say anything, however, the sound of the door sliding open behind him made him freeze.
A hand clamped down upon each of Justice's shoulders in unison, restraining him should he decide to struggle, though there was no use anyway. He knew fully well, without even paying a look, that the guards had followed him, and it wasn’t in his nature to fight battles he couldn’t win, especially against his own kind. The grip on his arms was hard enough to cause him discomfort, thus clearing any doubt in his mind that they were, like him, vampires.
“I’m very sorry about this interruption, My Lords.” Justice recognised the voice from one of the men he'd spoken to outside. “We’ll see to this individual so that you may continue.”
All of a sudden, something within the man clicked, and at once he lashed out at his captors. It seemed they had been expecting this sudden resistance, however, and within moments, they had swarmed around him, using their whole bodies as restraints.
Wait!” he called out. “My name is Justice Schwarzschild - I came here to ask for-”
An abrupt, blunt force hit the back of his head, and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out. It took him a second to realise that he’d been struck by something solid, possibly the flat side of a sword, but by that time it was too late to react. The ground began to race towards him at an alarming rate until the two collided violently.
A hazy, paralysing anguish spread through Justice’s head, numbing his movements and befogging his vision; someone spoke, but the words washed around him. Was he going to lose consciousness? To do so would’ve been a blessing if it meant escaping the dizzying pain.
It was almost impossible to tell when the feeling began to subside, though it did, albeit slowly, and the man found himself becoming increasingly aware of his surroundings. Carefully, he raised his head and looked to the left, expecting to find the guards waiting, but there was no-one.
“I sent them away.”
The voice startled Justice. Standing over him was a figure, whom he immediately identified as Kircheis - like the other Guardians, his outfit was too detailed to take in fully with a single glance, with sections pieced together in such a complex manner it seemed like a work of art, with its wearer serving as the canvas.
It was only when he had come to his senses that Justice realised he was still spread across the ground from where he’d collapsed. Clumsily, he straightened up. The other offered him no help - not that he had been expecting any - and was already beginning to make his way back to the table to join his companions.
The black-haired man placed a hand on the spot where he’d been struck, his body tensing as his fingers brushed the tender skin. However, despite the lingering pain, he found he was able to take in his surroundings properly for the first time.
The room appeared to have been built specifically for meetings, though its size suggested it was used to accommodating them on a far larger scale. The ceiling was gold leaf Two chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling, and a set of fine chairs lined the two side walls, leaving a large empty space between Justice and the ones opposite.
“You say your name is Schwarzschild…” Now seated, Kircheis folded one leg over the other and leaned against his arm on the table. “Would you care to elaborate?”
Justice understood - the surname was no common one, and it seemed only natural that the Guardians would question; though whether they were willing to take his words as the truth was unknown to him as of yet.
“My father was Dreizehn Schwarzschild, Sir.”
At this, the only one who had not yet spoken, Rafaga, raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Ah, yes - you have his eyes.”
“What are you talking about?” Wilderness hissed. “The king never had a child. Are you actually going to believe this nonsense?”
Carbuncle shot him a sideways scowl. “Perhaps it would not hurt to hear at least a little of what he has to say before we can make a judgement.” Then he beckoned to Justice.
The man paused briefly before walking forward. His steps echoed off the walls, each one falling into a more forced rhythm than the last as his anxiousness grew.
Eventually, though, he reached the table where the others sat. Fear of saying something out of place kept his mouth firmly closed, so he simply remained silent as the others stared upon him with expectant faces.
“Well, sit!” snapped Wilderness.
“You can take my place, if you wish,” Rafaga said, standing and sliding the chair towards the man, who sat down uncertainly. “After all, you can’t play chess with five players.”
Up until that point, the Justice had been ignorant to the activity that was taking place, but now, as he cast his eyes over the table, he could see that it was, indeed, consumed by a game of chess. However, the board appeared to be at least twice the dimensions of a regular one, and instead of two sets of pieces locked in battle across the playing area, there were four.
Wilderness raised a hand to clear away the pieces, but Carbuncle stopped him.
“Perhaps it would be better to see how our visitor approaches a field that has already been stepped upon.” The fire vampire’s gaze bore deep into Justice, so much so that he had to look away. Being this close to the four people who held the most power amongst his kind was almost unreal, as though he had been dropped into a dream. In the space of three days, what had started off as an idea had become reality - the thought was almost too much for him to grasp.
Yet now, it was hard to ignore the vivid - and, no doubt, very real - sensations that gnawed at him. Something wasn’t quite right… And despite the fact it wasn’t direct fear he could feel, something about the situation deeply unsettled him, as if the air itself had eyes.
However, he had come here for the sake of gaining help, and help was what he was going to get - even if it meant sitting through their games.
Justice’s face was devoid of any visible emotion as he examined the state of the board in front of him: judging from the amount of pieces that had been captured, the scores were more or less even, with no obvious advantage to any of the four players. Chess was a game of traps, though, and a simple glance was, in his opinion, less than adequate to form a complete idea of the standings.
After about a minute of silence, Carbuncle spoke. “You’re quite strategic in your method, I see... Or is it that you do not know the rules?”
“I know how to play, thank you,” Justice replied quietly. For need to break the ice, he reached out and moved one of his - or rather, Rafaga's - pawns forward a square.
There was a pause whilst the others assessed this; then Wilderness, who sat to his left, sighed, uncrossed his arms and slid his rook horizontally across the board.
And so it went on: each player took their turn, and as it would seem, each acted upon his own individual tactics. If a piece was lost, it was a pawn - all the roles of importance remained, turning the whole board into a deadlock, a guessing game of who would be the first to lose his knight or bishop.
“So tell me, Justice,” began Carbuncle once play had returned to him for the second time. “If you are the son of our king, why is it that you have decided to pay us a visit after so long?”
Justice gripped his knee nervously under the table. “My Lords, I am here because I seek your aid in recovering something precious to me.”
“Oh yes? And what might that be?”
“It’s an artefact known as the Schwarzschild Sword,” he explained. “Have you heard of it?”
Kircheis frowned. “Oh, that. It’s a legend - nothing else.”
“Sir, if I may, I have reason to believe otherwise.” Objected the black-haired man. “That sword was my father’s, and I have recently heard wind of a rumour regarding its whereabouts…”
“You’re talking about the farmers, aren’t you?” Rafaga suddenly cut in from where he was standing. When the others fixed him with looks of confusion, he continued: “I overheard it from a set of travellers in an inn a few weeks ago. Apparently, a farmer had sent his sons into one of the forests nearby following the disappearance of some of his livestock, but instead of finding the missing animals, they came across a sword buried between the trees. Needless to say, they became curious, and tried to extract it from the ground, but when they discovered that they were unable to for some reason, they gave up and left.”
Wilderness stared down at the table, an expression somewhere between irritation and exasperation on his face. “So where is it, then?” His voice was calm, as if he were doing his best to keep his anger from spilling out.
“I believe it was somewhere in the South-East,” came the other’s reply.
“The South-East? Do you mean the Earth Region?”
“I do.”
“My region?”
An amused smile pulled at Rafaga's lips. “Yes, your region.”
“Yes? Well if it happened on my land, than why is it that I have yet to hear of it?” The vampire reached one hand between the long, loosely-curled locks of his hair to scratch his head. “I don’t believe this. Some… Person comes in here, claiming to be the son of a king who died almost two hundred years ago; and then, as if to add further insult to our intelligence, he dares to ask for out something that exists only in the minds of those who are foolish enough to believe such a myth!”
The whole room was silent, as if in shock from the outburst. It was exactly as Justice had feared - he was being branded a liar. How was he able to prove his royal bloodline to them when he had nothing material to verify it himself?
Slowly, Kircheis lifted one of his knights from the table, but instead of putting it down again, he held it suspended for a moment, rolling it back and forth between his pale fingers. “Yes, I’m very curious as to this business with the king as well, particularly as I do not recall him ever fathering a child.” He peered over his hands at Justice.
The black-haired man considered his words very carefully before opening his mouth.
“My Lords, you do known how a vampire is created of two parents, don't you?”
“Of course,” replied Carbuncle. “The offspring is a stillborn, then anywhere between one and two hundred years after being laid to rest, it rises from its decomposed remains. It’s a survival technique, designed to keep our kind alive and safe from any dangers that may be present at the time of birth.” He took his turn. “Check.”
Slowly, Justice turned his eyes towards the board to see that his king had been cornered by Carbuncle's bishop. He sat still for a few seconds, considering his options, before pulling his piece back one place.
The fire vampire raised an eyebrow, regarding the move with mild surprise. “You have the opportunity to take my bishop at the cost of your knight, and yet you choose to withdraw your king…”
“I see no purpose in sacrificing a playable piece,” said Justice. It felt somewhat invasive for him to have to explain his thought processes out loud, yet in this game, where each move he made was being critically analysed, perhaps it was the only way to gain the Guardians’ assurance.
“And what’s more, you leave it unprotected on the board, where it is susceptible to another attack.”
Rafaga shifted a little. “In Justice’s defence, though, the king is a strong enough piece on its own - it can stand without protection for the most part.”
A sharp sigh escaped Wilderness' lips, his tone dangerously low.“Perhaps it would be better if we were to return to the matter at hand? Instead of musing over a board game, that is.”
Instantly, all eyes turned back to Justice, who began to feel the pressure pushing down upon him again. “I… I was brought up by a couple who said they’d found me by a river, near to where they lived. It had always been made clear to me that I was not a child of theirs: when I was old enough, they took me to the spot where I'd been discovered, trying to find clues as to how I'd gotten there, but there was nothing. Well, that's how it seemed, at least. It was only when I reached the age of five, when the need to drain blood rose within me, that they found out that I was even a vampire.”
He glanced around the table briefly, making sure that he still had the Guardians' attentions. They all seemed interested, at least.
“Well, they let me live with them,” he continued. “I know it unnerved them to have such a creature in their house, but I tried my hardest to live a normal life as a human. A few years later, we found the gravestone - my gravestone - in the woods next to the river, bearing the names of two people: Rosalie and Justice Schwarzschild.”
At once, Wilderness snapped his head up, then followed with his whole body, barely shaking the table as he leaped up onto it and lunged towards the black-haired man. Justice rose to his feet, but before he could move out of the way, Wilderness had slammed his back down into the hard ground. Frantically, he brought his knee up into his attacker’s stomach, hauling him over his head so that both men landed sprawled across the floor.
Justice assumed a defensive crouch and gritted his teeth. It was only when his eyes fell upon the other’s red nails, however, that he noticed the wound in his face. He brushed his fingers lightly against his left cheek to find three gashes, like chasms carved into the flesh; blood dripped from his chin and leaked into his mouth, coupled with tides of sharp searing pain, as if the whole side of his face were alight.
A low growl, like that of an animal, ripped its way from the earth vampire's chest, his dark eyes fixed upon Justice. It appeared he was preparing himself for another attack, and for that reason, the man was watching his every move with a hawk-like awareness.
All of a sudden, Justice felt something knock him forward, as if the strongest of breezes had managed to find its way into the room. For a moment, he thought he was going to lose his balance, but then, as soon as it had arisen, it was over.
Wilderness, on the other hand, was not so lucky. As though he had been struck by an invisible force, Wilderness was knocked from his feet and sent flying backwards across the room, where he collided solidly with the floor. The black-haired man looked on, astonished at what he saw. By his side, a figure stirred.
“I would’ve thought that, being the adults we all claim to be, we would at least be able to behave like them.” Rafaga stepped forwards, the sound of his hard-heeled boots cutting through the air. One hand was raised to chest level, palm facing outwards - it wasn’t difficult for Justice to make the connection.
All this time, the thought that the Guardians held the abilities to physically manipulate their elemental namesakes had never passed through Justice’s mind, yet how else could he explain the scene in front of him? Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he probably would’ve dismissed the idea as an absurdity, though the feeling of shock that had had overcome him was too realistic to deny.
Rafaga had moved the wind of his own accord.
Just how much power did these people really hold?
Wilderness snarled furiously. “How dare you allow him to say her name? Filthy scum!”
He had barely finished speaking when Rafaga flicked his wrist; and, like a servant, the air obeyed. At once, he was assaulted by another barrage of wind that knocked him back again, this time into the set of chairs placed against the wall. There was the distinct noise of wood cracking as it came into contact with his body.
“You’re taking this a little far, aren’t you?” the wind vampire called out. “If you wish to continue this for the duration of the evening, then please, be my guest. However, I’m not planning on holding back next time, and by the look on your face, I would guess you’re not too fond of the idea of having your bones broken.”
Wilderness winced and narrowed his eyes, yet remained still. Still fastened to the spot, Justice paid a brief look over his shoulder at the two other Guardians, who both regarded the situation as though it brought them amusement. For a moment, Kircheis caught his view, then looked away.
But then he looked back again.
An expression of shock quickly formed upon his face. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Carbuncle, noticing the sudden stillness, followed his gaze until he, too, rested his eyes until the man; however, his reaction was closer to a frown than awe.
A feeling of deep confusion overcame Justice. Were they taken aback by the sight of his wound? He traced the mark with the tip of a finger - the blood was still thick on his face, though the skin was beginning to close and pain pain subside. No, their gazes seemed to be focused upon his eyes.
Kircheis was the fist to move: not daring to break contact, he pushed back his chair, walked around the table and stopped in front of Justice; only when he had fallen to one knee did he finally look down. His right hand rested over his heart and his head hung bowed in a stance of absolute submission. Carbuncle quickly followed, assuming the same position by the other’s side, as did Rafaga.
At this point, the only one not kneeling was Wilderness, who had managed to pull himself to his feet. His eyes flickered between the kneeling figures and Justice, and all at once an unnatural paleness came over his face.
The black-haired man was frozen, unable to move from the suddenness of everything. Slowly, his lips opened, but no words were brought forth.
The water vampire raised his head. “I am sorry for doubting you - please accept my deepest apologies, Your Majesty.”
Next Chapter →
Chapter X
A Game of Wits
Justice’s eyes darted left and right before resting upon the one who’d spoken, a figure seated at a table with three others. Each stared at him with bemused expressions. He blinked, unable to form words due to the shock that had taken a hold of his senses.
The room, despite its fine furnishings, seemed almost inadequate to hold the men who sat within it; in fact, Justice felt as though he were looking upon a scene from a painting. It was no difficult task to place names to faces: perhaps the easiest to identify was Kircheis due to the striking predominance of blue in his clothing, a direct correspondence to the colour of his namesake element, water. It was in his hair, too - long, sea-coloured threads woven into sandy pale locks that fell either side of his face.
To his left sat a slightly taller, more sturdily-built individual who regarded Justice with a look of contempt - he could only presume from the rich gold and black designs adorning his clothes that he was Wilderness of the Earth. Seated directly opposite was Rafaga, the Guardian that represented wind and sky; though unlike the others, he appeared to have lost interest in the intruder, and was occupying himself with his fingernails instead.
However, the person who intrigued Justice most was the fourth figure, the one who had spoken: had he not heard his voice, the man may have been led to believe that he was female, with a body so fragile it seemed it would snap if mishandled. A deep red dominated his garments, yet whether it was closer to the colour of flames or blood Justice found it hard to tell. Perhaps the most mesmerising features, though, were his eyes: large, doll-like and so deep that the man found himself lost in them for a second.
Carbuncle of the Fire blinked - a long, lethargic motion - then crossed his legs, though it was Wilderness who brought forth words.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
They were not questions so much as orders, and the black-haired man was all but obliged to answer. Before he could say anything, however, the sound of the door sliding open behind him made him freeze.
A hand clamped down upon each of Justice's shoulders in unison, restraining him should he decide to struggle, though there was no use anyway. He knew fully well, without even paying a look, that the guards had followed him, and it wasn’t in his nature to fight battles he couldn’t win, especially against his own kind. The grip on his arms was hard enough to cause him discomfort, thus clearing any doubt in his mind that they were, like him, vampires.
“I’m very sorry about this interruption, My Lords.” Justice recognised the voice from one of the men he'd spoken to outside. “We’ll see to this individual so that you may continue.”
All of a sudden, something within the man clicked, and at once he lashed out at his captors. It seemed they had been expecting this sudden resistance, however, and within moments, they had swarmed around him, using their whole bodies as restraints.
Wait!” he called out. “My name is Justice Schwarzschild - I came here to ask for-”
An abrupt, blunt force hit the back of his head, and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out. It took him a second to realise that he’d been struck by something solid, possibly the flat side of a sword, but by that time it was too late to react. The ground began to race towards him at an alarming rate until the two collided violently.
A hazy, paralysing anguish spread through Justice’s head, numbing his movements and befogging his vision; someone spoke, but the words washed around him. Was he going to lose consciousness? To do so would’ve been a blessing if it meant escaping the dizzying pain.
It was almost impossible to tell when the feeling began to subside, though it did, albeit slowly, and the man found himself becoming increasingly aware of his surroundings. Carefully, he raised his head and looked to the left, expecting to find the guards waiting, but there was no-one.
“I sent them away.”
The voice startled Justice. Standing over him was a figure, whom he immediately identified as Kircheis - like the other Guardians, his outfit was too detailed to take in fully with a single glance, with sections pieced together in such a complex manner it seemed like a work of art, with its wearer serving as the canvas.
It was only when he had come to his senses that Justice realised he was still spread across the ground from where he’d collapsed. Clumsily, he straightened up. The other offered him no help - not that he had been expecting any - and was already beginning to make his way back to the table to join his companions.
The black-haired man placed a hand on the spot where he’d been struck, his body tensing as his fingers brushed the tender skin. However, despite the lingering pain, he found he was able to take in his surroundings properly for the first time.
The room appeared to have been built specifically for meetings, though its size suggested it was used to accommodating them on a far larger scale. The ceiling was gold leaf Two chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling, and a set of fine chairs lined the two side walls, leaving a large empty space between Justice and the ones opposite.
“You say your name is Schwarzschild…” Now seated, Kircheis folded one leg over the other and leaned against his arm on the table. “Would you care to elaborate?”
Justice understood - the surname was no common one, and it seemed only natural that the Guardians would question; though whether they were willing to take his words as the truth was unknown to him as of yet.
“My father was Dreizehn Schwarzschild, Sir.”
At this, the only one who had not yet spoken, Rafaga, raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Ah, yes - you have his eyes.”
“What are you talking about?” Wilderness hissed. “The king never had a child. Are you actually going to believe this nonsense?”
Carbuncle shot him a sideways scowl. “Perhaps it would not hurt to hear at least a little of what he has to say before we can make a judgement.” Then he beckoned to Justice.
The man paused briefly before walking forward. His steps echoed off the walls, each one falling into a more forced rhythm than the last as his anxiousness grew.
Eventually, though, he reached the table where the others sat. Fear of saying something out of place kept his mouth firmly closed, so he simply remained silent as the others stared upon him with expectant faces.
“Well, sit!” snapped Wilderness.
“You can take my place, if you wish,” Rafaga said, standing and sliding the chair towards the man, who sat down uncertainly. “After all, you can’t play chess with five players.”
Up until that point, the Justice had been ignorant to the activity that was taking place, but now, as he cast his eyes over the table, he could see that it was, indeed, consumed by a game of chess. However, the board appeared to be at least twice the dimensions of a regular one, and instead of two sets of pieces locked in battle across the playing area, there were four.
Wilderness raised a hand to clear away the pieces, but Carbuncle stopped him.
“Perhaps it would be better to see how our visitor approaches a field that has already been stepped upon.” The fire vampire’s gaze bore deep into Justice, so much so that he had to look away. Being this close to the four people who held the most power amongst his kind was almost unreal, as though he had been dropped into a dream. In the space of three days, what had started off as an idea had become reality - the thought was almost too much for him to grasp.
Yet now, it was hard to ignore the vivid - and, no doubt, very real - sensations that gnawed at him. Something wasn’t quite right… And despite the fact it wasn’t direct fear he could feel, something about the situation deeply unsettled him, as if the air itself had eyes.
However, he had come here for the sake of gaining help, and help was what he was going to get - even if it meant sitting through their games.
Justice’s face was devoid of any visible emotion as he examined the state of the board in front of him: judging from the amount of pieces that had been captured, the scores were more or less even, with no obvious advantage to any of the four players. Chess was a game of traps, though, and a simple glance was, in his opinion, less than adequate to form a complete idea of the standings.
After about a minute of silence, Carbuncle spoke. “You’re quite strategic in your method, I see... Or is it that you do not know the rules?”
“I know how to play, thank you,” Justice replied quietly. For need to break the ice, he reached out and moved one of his - or rather, Rafaga's - pawns forward a square.
There was a pause whilst the others assessed this; then Wilderness, who sat to his left, sighed, uncrossed his arms and slid his rook horizontally across the board.
And so it went on: each player took their turn, and as it would seem, each acted upon his own individual tactics. If a piece was lost, it was a pawn - all the roles of importance remained, turning the whole board into a deadlock, a guessing game of who would be the first to lose his knight or bishop.
“So tell me, Justice,” began Carbuncle once play had returned to him for the second time. “If you are the son of our king, why is it that you have decided to pay us a visit after so long?”
Justice gripped his knee nervously under the table. “My Lords, I am here because I seek your aid in recovering something precious to me.”
“Oh yes? And what might that be?”
“It’s an artefact known as the Schwarzschild Sword,” he explained. “Have you heard of it?”
Kircheis frowned. “Oh, that. It’s a legend - nothing else.”
“Sir, if I may, I have reason to believe otherwise.” Objected the black-haired man. “That sword was my father’s, and I have recently heard wind of a rumour regarding its whereabouts…”
“You’re talking about the farmers, aren’t you?” Rafaga suddenly cut in from where he was standing. When the others fixed him with looks of confusion, he continued: “I overheard it from a set of travellers in an inn a few weeks ago. Apparently, a farmer had sent his sons into one of the forests nearby following the disappearance of some of his livestock, but instead of finding the missing animals, they came across a sword buried between the trees. Needless to say, they became curious, and tried to extract it from the ground, but when they discovered that they were unable to for some reason, they gave up and left.”
Wilderness stared down at the table, an expression somewhere between irritation and exasperation on his face. “So where is it, then?” His voice was calm, as if he were doing his best to keep his anger from spilling out.
“I believe it was somewhere in the South-East,” came the other’s reply.
“The South-East? Do you mean the Earth Region?”
“I do.”
“My region?”
An amused smile pulled at Rafaga's lips. “Yes, your region.”
“Yes? Well if it happened on my land, than why is it that I have yet to hear of it?” The vampire reached one hand between the long, loosely-curled locks of his hair to scratch his head. “I don’t believe this. Some… Person comes in here, claiming to be the son of a king who died almost two hundred years ago; and then, as if to add further insult to our intelligence, he dares to ask for out something that exists only in the minds of those who are foolish enough to believe such a myth!”
The whole room was silent, as if in shock from the outburst. It was exactly as Justice had feared - he was being branded a liar. How was he able to prove his royal bloodline to them when he had nothing material to verify it himself?
Slowly, Kircheis lifted one of his knights from the table, but instead of putting it down again, he held it suspended for a moment, rolling it back and forth between his pale fingers. “Yes, I’m very curious as to this business with the king as well, particularly as I do not recall him ever fathering a child.” He peered over his hands at Justice.
The black-haired man considered his words very carefully before opening his mouth.
“My Lords, you do known how a vampire is created of two parents, don't you?”
“Of course,” replied Carbuncle. “The offspring is a stillborn, then anywhere between one and two hundred years after being laid to rest, it rises from its decomposed remains. It’s a survival technique, designed to keep our kind alive and safe from any dangers that may be present at the time of birth.” He took his turn. “Check.”
Slowly, Justice turned his eyes towards the board to see that his king had been cornered by Carbuncle's bishop. He sat still for a few seconds, considering his options, before pulling his piece back one place.
The fire vampire raised an eyebrow, regarding the move with mild surprise. “You have the opportunity to take my bishop at the cost of your knight, and yet you choose to withdraw your king…”
“I see no purpose in sacrificing a playable piece,” said Justice. It felt somewhat invasive for him to have to explain his thought processes out loud, yet in this game, where each move he made was being critically analysed, perhaps it was the only way to gain the Guardians’ assurance.
“And what’s more, you leave it unprotected on the board, where it is susceptible to another attack.”
Rafaga shifted a little. “In Justice’s defence, though, the king is a strong enough piece on its own - it can stand without protection for the most part.”
A sharp sigh escaped Wilderness' lips, his tone dangerously low.“Perhaps it would be better if we were to return to the matter at hand? Instead of musing over a board game, that is.”
Instantly, all eyes turned back to Justice, who began to feel the pressure pushing down upon him again. “I… I was brought up by a couple who said they’d found me by a river, near to where they lived. It had always been made clear to me that I was not a child of theirs: when I was old enough, they took me to the spot where I'd been discovered, trying to find clues as to how I'd gotten there, but there was nothing. Well, that's how it seemed, at least. It was only when I reached the age of five, when the need to drain blood rose within me, that they found out that I was even a vampire.”
He glanced around the table briefly, making sure that he still had the Guardians' attentions. They all seemed interested, at least.
“Well, they let me live with them,” he continued. “I know it unnerved them to have such a creature in their house, but I tried my hardest to live a normal life as a human. A few years later, we found the gravestone - my gravestone - in the woods next to the river, bearing the names of two people: Rosalie and Justice Schwarzschild.”
At once, Wilderness snapped his head up, then followed with his whole body, barely shaking the table as he leaped up onto it and lunged towards the black-haired man. Justice rose to his feet, but before he could move out of the way, Wilderness had slammed his back down into the hard ground. Frantically, he brought his knee up into his attacker’s stomach, hauling him over his head so that both men landed sprawled across the floor.
Justice assumed a defensive crouch and gritted his teeth. It was only when his eyes fell upon the other’s red nails, however, that he noticed the wound in his face. He brushed his fingers lightly against his left cheek to find three gashes, like chasms carved into the flesh; blood dripped from his chin and leaked into his mouth, coupled with tides of sharp searing pain, as if the whole side of his face were alight.
A low growl, like that of an animal, ripped its way from the earth vampire's chest, his dark eyes fixed upon Justice. It appeared he was preparing himself for another attack, and for that reason, the man was watching his every move with a hawk-like awareness.
All of a sudden, Justice felt something knock him forward, as if the strongest of breezes had managed to find its way into the room. For a moment, he thought he was going to lose his balance, but then, as soon as it had arisen, it was over.
Wilderness, on the other hand, was not so lucky. As though he had been struck by an invisible force, Wilderness was knocked from his feet and sent flying backwards across the room, where he collided solidly with the floor. The black-haired man looked on, astonished at what he saw. By his side, a figure stirred.
“I would’ve thought that, being the adults we all claim to be, we would at least be able to behave like them.” Rafaga stepped forwards, the sound of his hard-heeled boots cutting through the air. One hand was raised to chest level, palm facing outwards - it wasn’t difficult for Justice to make the connection.
All this time, the thought that the Guardians held the abilities to physically manipulate their elemental namesakes had never passed through Justice’s mind, yet how else could he explain the scene in front of him? Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he probably would’ve dismissed the idea as an absurdity, though the feeling of shock that had had overcome him was too realistic to deny.
Rafaga had moved the wind of his own accord.
Just how much power did these people really hold?
Wilderness snarled furiously. “How dare you allow him to say her name? Filthy scum!”
He had barely finished speaking when Rafaga flicked his wrist; and, like a servant, the air obeyed. At once, he was assaulted by another barrage of wind that knocked him back again, this time into the set of chairs placed against the wall. There was the distinct noise of wood cracking as it came into contact with his body.
“You’re taking this a little far, aren’t you?” the wind vampire called out. “If you wish to continue this for the duration of the evening, then please, be my guest. However, I’m not planning on holding back next time, and by the look on your face, I would guess you’re not too fond of the idea of having your bones broken.”
Wilderness winced and narrowed his eyes, yet remained still. Still fastened to the spot, Justice paid a brief look over his shoulder at the two other Guardians, who both regarded the situation as though it brought them amusement. For a moment, Kircheis caught his view, then looked away.
But then he looked back again.
An expression of shock quickly formed upon his face. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Carbuncle, noticing the sudden stillness, followed his gaze until he, too, rested his eyes until the man; however, his reaction was closer to a frown than awe.
A feeling of deep confusion overcame Justice. Were they taken aback by the sight of his wound? He traced the mark with the tip of a finger - the blood was still thick on his face, though the skin was beginning to close and pain pain subside. No, their gazes seemed to be focused upon his eyes.
Kircheis was the fist to move: not daring to break contact, he pushed back his chair, walked around the table and stopped in front of Justice; only when he had fallen to one knee did he finally look down. His right hand rested over his heart and his head hung bowed in a stance of absolute submission. Carbuncle quickly followed, assuming the same position by the other’s side, as did Rafaga.
At this point, the only one not kneeling was Wilderness, who had managed to pull himself to his feet. His eyes flickered between the kneeling figures and Justice, and all at once an unnatural paleness came over his face.
The black-haired man was frozen, unable to move from the suddenness of everything. Slowly, his lips opened, but no words were brought forth.
The water vampire raised his head. “I am sorry for doubting you - please accept my deepest apologies, Your Majesty.”
Next Chapter →