“Miss me?” The priest, namely Sheritre, is now wearing an icy look under the golden cloak. Fear evaporates through each step she takes, reaching the ground at last, is a new Sheritre. Yet, before the wicked High priest could even have a chance to respond, comes The Protector from the wings of the throne chamber. The Protector had sworn to safeguard the truth, the bloodline, and the future of Averi itself, indeed, it’s been too long for them to be in the shadows, silently witnessing every dynasty come and go. In a black cloak embroidered with the scale of justice, they escort the heir. Unite under the rays of justice shimmering down on them, it’s time for a new ruler to be chosen. As if struck by a lightning rod, the devilish man seemed shaken by their presence. He knows who they are. To let the truth emerge from the ground of liars, they are willing to pay its price in flesh and blood, for the truth of history, and for justice to be done.
Be afraid, those who lie. The truth will come and punished.
From the doors of the chamber, waves of soldiers fill in. Quickly, they surrounded Sheritre and her allies. “Kill them!”. Under the high priest's command, weapons were pointed at them in a blink. Sheritre appears to be a different person, with no trace of fear or apprehension. Holding the hyacinth necklace, she steps forward to the high priest. The Protectors followed her steady steps, forcing the guards to clear their path. How different they are for both being priests, the servants of God. For the exhausted one bathed in an absolute divine light, the noble one now trembles in fear. They were never alike. Separated by light, one is the true heir, and the other is the devil in disguise.
“Seize her, you fool!” He hissed helplessly, just to realize the blades were now pointed at him. Three knights stand close to Sheritre, removing their hoods. With a challenging smirk, Axl played with his sword while Reid cast an icy gaze. “Let’s see who is the fool.” Cecil pointed her blade straight at the high priest. Instantly, the coward looks for an escape. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you." Reid followed his glance. “The Lord of the North is not fond of cowards.” Just when his words stop, the sound of a raven warns the priest from above. Orville spread his dark wings threateningly, prepared to strike at any moment. “Can’t we just kill him?” Axl sighed impatiently.
“That will be too easy.” Theodore pierced at the priest, “He will pay for everything he did.”
Stepping forward, her strangely calm voice echoed throughout the chamber. “This will be your trial,” she looked down at the priest. “Listen carefully, the god will ask for each of your sins.”
With a nod, the high priest immediately witnessed a line of The protectors. Each of their hands holds different items. Each of them is solid evidence of his sins. “What are you trying to do?" asked the high priest, clenching his teeth. “Winning this pathetic match, dear Queen piece,” she follows. The queen could be the strongest piece on the chessboard. Gifted with freedom, she is worth countless pieces. But united as one, the queen is no more than a pawn.
“In the name of justice, hear me, you criminal.” Under Sheriche's solemn voice, the high priest was immediately forced to kneel under Axl and Reid's pressure. Being dragged to the first protector, in his hands lies a black dahlia. Its black petals glow ironically in the high priest’s eyes. “Take away a lover’s, a mother's, and a sister’s life.” Laughing, the priest threw a mocking look at Sheritre. “Since when does a whore get this much attention?” Yet a kick from Axl forces him to shut up before moving on to the second protector. In the velvet box, lies a broken silver sword. No trace of laughter could be seen on the high priest’s face. "Killing Averi's former king, destroying cities.” Crack his mouth to open, a package of strange dust hanging above. Struggles intensely to escape, he knows more than anyone how effective that thing is. How easily it takes lives away. A motion from Sheritre stops when the dust is just a few inches away from falling down his throat.
Bury the fury rays, and Sheritre forces herself to stay cold when the third protector comes. In the velvet box, lies a broken chain with a golden scale of justice. “Killing the former High Priest of Averi, the protector of the truth.” The sun's rays chose its designated one, bathing her in holy light. Bearing the power of a magistrate, Sheritre’s aura now shines brighter than ever, if not more than the former priest, her mother, Aurora Wennefer. In a glimpse, a light trace of her shines through each of her words, her actions, sending the high priest into utter fear. For a moment, as if the brilliant priest Aurora herself was marking his sins. “Fuel innocent children with rage and envy. Forever captured them in their own prison.” The fourth protector unwrapped the silk, revealing a sapphire king piece and a silver knight piece. Theodore, from behind, swung the sword in his hand. Two pieces now only one standstill. He saved them from the depths of agony only to drag them back down into Hell.
The fifth protector holds the map of two kingdoms. “Separated the lion and the dragon by greed.” Unable to even look up, Axl kindly forces the high priest to face the sin. It was he—the one who fueled the eternal war, the one who stabbed the heart of Sylvester’s family, the one who destroyed it all under that mask. The sixth protector brings along a pile of personal belongings. “Killing innocent lives, those he was bound to protect.” From books to clothes, each of them falls down to the trembling priest. Raising his head weakly, for a moment, he could see the faint images of the victims behind the protectors. Hands clasped, their lifeless eyes piercing down on the perpetrator.
For the first time, fury painted that saint's face. Glancing at Sheritre, he yells, “So what?" "You think they would believe a kid rather than the high priest?”
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“No, but they will.” Right when Sheritre stops, Camille pulls down the velvet curtain behind the throne. Before the high priest is the plenum, with its consuls high above on the honored seats. In the glorious light of judgment, they look down on him in disdain. They are all true consuls, sworn to loyalty to the kingdom. In other words, they are never his allies. “Destroying what you swore to protect, destroying Averi,” the old consuls in the middle continue. “With seven sins and evidence, you, the high priest of Averi, are guilty.”
He yells out loud, "You can't kill me!" as he struggles in Axl and Reid's hands. “Killing me is the same as killing the god. Can you imagine the consequence when the people find out the consuls are killing their beloved priest?” With a snap, the mad King of Averi, the same one that had gone missing after the chaos, appears behind Camille. “Don’t you worry, with my and Theodore’s network.”, “We will make sure to whisper each piece of the truth to every one of them.” Theodore follows her with a smirk. Turns around to seek any hopeless hope, the priest meets Sheritre’s gaze.
“Checkmate.”
With a knife in his hand, the king turns to face the consul. The bloodthirsty aura somehow vanished, leaving behind a fierce man seeking revenge. For all his life, has lived in a never-ending nightmare. For that man who claimed to be the priest have taken away the mother he never had, even for a minute. A nod from the consul was all it needed.
A mischievous grin was all the high priest could see at last, right ahead of a cold and glistering knife to tear through every layer of his flesh. What brings along a crimson blooming on his white cloak is tremendous suffering, his face, now painted with pure horror. In no time did the man scream with all his guts, yet the trembling arms tried their best to reach out for mercy only to be met by the harsh reality. The blade did not end its opponent in a single movement between the beating heart and the heaving lungs; rather, it is allowing the man to taste his sins slowly and tortuously. Everything falls into silence as if time had stood still. Why is the sound of flesh being torn still ringing out loud? Not yet, it’s only the beginning. Screeching, it rotates deep under, sending even more paramount pain, with only a bitter stream of tears and whimpering at last. Thud… Thud… Thud… Over and over again in a never-ending cycle. No longer any strength remains. No longer any beads fell from its cheeks, no longer any resistance. Crimson blooming on the ground welcomes a lifeless body. How ironic to see its arrogance just moments earlier now miserably hanging as if a stuffed animal, with the still-horror face being a nice little touch. Throwing the body away, the former King bowed to his audience, marking an end to this exquisite show.
He died at the hands of the prostitute's son, the very monster he had created. Lying in the blood puddle, hell’s inferno awaits.
The old consul turns to the King. “You understand your debts, right?” Even after killing the culprit, the innocent blood dye on his hands still can’t wash away. Take a look at Camille, the King bows before the consuls. “I leave my fate in your judgment.” “I yield the throne to the worthy.” Before the guards take him, Camille softly pats his head like a child, gently her hands are, “Take care. She will definitely be proud of you.” A sad smile sent him away.
The whole plenum steps down, respectively, they bow to Sheritre. “We have waited a long time, Protector of Truth.” Theodore comes for a handshake. The old consul and the doctor have long been allies. “Who will lead Averi through these dark days?” a consul asked in concern. Just to get a solemn tone from Sheritre, “Open your eyes and witness.” She stands aside from the throne, “The true Emperor of the two kingdoms.”
The throne chamber cracked open, and swiftly the guards lined up on the sides. With spears and swords, in iron armor, they are noble knights. The moment a protector gives Sheritre the scale of justice scepter, the consuls join the knights in the line. All await this historic moment. Among the Lord of the North's knights, step forward Evelyn Sylvester. Her golden eyes shone brightly with confidence as she raised her head high in determination. The moment she appears, the consuls and the protectors fall into utter astonishment. The ancient myths they have protected with their lives, finally come true. The golden eyes shone brilliantly with confidence. The divine light rests upon her silk hair, on the torn white dress dyed with smoke and grime. She is the destined heir, rising from ash and sacrifice. With every step she takes, the knights, all bow before her. Bathed in the divine light, the broken throne chamber welcomes its lost master. Stepping on stones and blood, the throne chair greets. Behind her, Alderic, in the signature black fur cape of Hyram, was escorted.
‘Is she the destined one?” The consul asked Sheritre in doubt. Rather than responding, Sheritre pointed at the Imperial Topaz ring on Evelyn’s hand. The light of truth falls upon them. Standing before her, Sheritre raises her solemn voice. “Who are you to claim the throne, child?” “I am Evelyn Leith Ashworth, the heir to the throne, with Hyram nurturing my mind and Averi granting my blood.” The Ashworth family with its descendants soon have been buried under the layers of time. For only its bloodline could unite the crimson dragon and the golden lion. From the moment Joshep mentioned her name, to the moment the knights bowed down to her, to the day the ring was discovered. The signs were cleared.
Sitting on the throne, in the shattered throne chamber, lies the heir. Through the broken windows, the glorious light rises. The old consul kneeled before her, “On behalf of Averi, I conceded the right to rule." "We, the plenum of consuls, swore to forever be your loyal servants.” Sheritre, with one hand holding the scepter and the other placed on her heart, kneels before Evelyn. “On behalf of protectors of the truth and justice, Sheritre Wennefer, the high priest, conceded the right to rule.” “We swore to forever protect your judgments and ideals.” Then there's him. The emerald eyes only bring her pride. Leaning on the silver sword, he kneels “On behalf of Hyram, Alderic Livius Sylvester, commander of the first army, Lord of the North." "Conceded the right to rule.” He looks at her with a smile. "I swore upon my name to protect your realm forever."
Right when the leaders stop, each of them kneels before her in utter honor. With flowers for the crown and the sword for the scepter, she is no longer Evelyn Sylvester, the princess in the cage.
She is Evelyn Leith Ashworth, Queen of Averi. The true master of the golden lion.