I became lost inside my head, speaking the tunes of philosophy—pondering if my actions were justified or plain foolish. I suppose the majority will figure out my murderers' actions with ill intent, and I believe their fears are at play... Restless I am at this very moment, I want nothing more but to rest till morning arrives. The truth to my stubborn mind is the past, my childhood, mainly when the followers of Hettalies spread the idea of ‘true freedom’ across the kingdom. I had to witness the barbaric practices both Men and Women possess. The woman will use their charm and figure to possess countless gold, sleeping with numerous men around them; depravity for long periods turned them into monsters themselves from their shameless actions. When the child was born into this world, they were murdered and left on the streets, allowing the beasts to tear their flesh away from the very bone... As for the men, competition comes into play as their unsatisfied desires are never quenched. Betrayal, adultery, rape, and the murder of innocent people became common. No longer could we help our neighbor, no—everyone takes everything for themselves, tossing others to the wayside... Morality was damned. For a while, my world was forever scattered with this plague until the Phaders arrived to make everything right again, but even in their presence, I could sense their darkness. Horton previously reassured the sentiment. In our order, few within our circle are warmed by the idea of dominance and living a pompous life. I suppose our stagnant culture is the root that grows this weed of disorder...
I open my eyes to the door opening from the other side of the room, where Alen (The knight who had led me to the cathedral) welcomes himself without permission. His boots emitted a loud thud with every step until he leaned over my desk...
After a few moments, he finally spoke: “It’s been a long while since you checked on your people—preacher...” he said with a severe tone and breath reeking of hard liquor, “Your persistence to leave has been leaving me to wonder as of late... What is it that you do when no one is watching?”
I replied: “You speak as if I had committed a grave act.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Preacher. Do you know how many people have disappeared in your absence?”
“I am not aware of any.”
“Doesn’t surprise me...” he scoffed, “Though Phader Horton and Dr. Krill come to mind... Did they say anything to you before they left during the storm?”
“Only a simple farewell.”
“But why would they travel through that bastard of a storm? Any sensible man would have told them to stay until it finally clears... Now tell me—what about the burning shed? Why did we find you on the ground, groveling at the very sight? We knew you were helping the widow deal with her crops, but why were you there alone—in that state?”
“What are you trying to say, Alen?”
He replied: “I think you are a cold—heartless killer... I’m convinced you murdered your colleagues—Making me question further the disappearances. Since we stayed here the first night, I had to suspect you after that incident with Evelyne. Perhaps that cock of yours had been drowning in Cresalin’s mere for too long—it would not surprise me if she were part of your damn schemes.”
I replied: “I have nothing to do with the many disappearances, nor does Cresalin. I wander off, helping people who need my service and nothing more. I neglected my surroundings, but it wasn’t because of ill intent.”
“I will have the answer soon enough. My mercs are combing this cathedral as we speak—and in time, we will know the truth... I suggest preparing your manuscript before we hang that neck of yours.” He did not say another word, instead leaving behind the unpleasant aura.
Not knowing the truth about these unfortunate events (besides my previous encounters). I am now left questioning that point of interest and—my future... Resolving this conflict is my top priority; unfortunately, I have not been given the proper tools. I may have to invest my spare time learning more about the conjuring arts and memorizing every corner of the cathedral. These corrupted ideas of mine are my only line of defense against Alen and his mercs. Innocent or not, I must find the truth before they do. What are the chances they give up on their search and deem me as the suspect with no evidence or planted for someone's political standing?
#
Under these conditions I had placed myself in, Alen's perception may have worsened from my choice of absolute privacy. I walked further than any into the depths until I could find a place that could guarantee my isolation from any curious wander. Only Sleeper knows how long I have spent in this rotten dungeon as I investigate my surroundings. Once I found a place deemed suitable for my research, I began reading the principles of conjuring...
I recited the words and chose the materials to start my experiment. Firstly, I had taken a lively mushroom, transferring its vitals into the rat’s dead carcass with the phrase:
“Taketh the shell once belongs to the living—resurrect the conditions with the new,” despite my thoughts of defeat, this worked to my favor... The shroom’s vital essence transfers into the rat, turning the body and flesh towards the abstract. Though its lifeless eyes stare into the void, its body breathes with life as the shrooms within pulsate. Both living and dead, I had made this creature. I said to it: “Are you well, little rodent?” I did not get any response to my question. “Move forward, little rodent,” I demanded. Still, no response is given. Perhaps I need to make another sacrifice and utter a new phrase. The previous shroom faded from the process, thus forcing me to make another sacrifice.
“Taketh the soul from the body—become one with the other, guiding the whims to my own,” then I say again: “Move forward, little rodent,” without a single flinch, it moves forward with haste until it stood on its little feet staring up towards my gaze. Now I wonder, ‘How far will it give in to my demands?’ To answer this question with a simple test, I tell it to eat the rotting shrooms. It devoured them without a shiver of response. I then told the creature to bang its head against the stone wall, and without question, it did so until the wall was stained with blood and spots of fur. The creature now lies dead from my demands, but I have concluded a simple idea: making it work on humans will be the real test. A test—I hope won’t come to pass. I wanted to move forward with the next, but the lack of life around me hindered such progress, hence concluding my studies.
Carefully, I transverse back towards the central part of the cathedral, where I notice the same mercs talking among each other: “I couldn’t find nonthin, only cobs and shite.”
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Alen replied: “There was not much luck on my side either... For now, let us rest before moving on to the dungeons.”
Together, they walked towards the cafeteria, allowing me to move onward and towards my study... A sight of bliss revealed to me my troubled state. Cresalin stood on the other side, waiting for me to return. She does not give me greetings through words but rather—her embrace. She held her arms around me within a tight grasp... This shocked my senses as my arms hesitated to wrap around her.
“I was worried they sealed you away...” she said, concerned.
“Not for now... They are still reluctant to find evidence.”
Cresalin takes a step back and reveals her sincere smile, “I know you well, Karthuras. You would have never committed such horrible acts. My faith in you is greater than the ring hovering in the sky.”
“I don’t think you should regard me so highly... I am not perfect by any means—and there were choices I had to make that were questionable at best.”
She placed her hand over my chest—which pounded my heart beyond its regular rate. I had to push myself away before I lost control of my rational thinking, pressing these thoughts and feelings to her in physical form. My response troubled her: “Did I do something wrong? Are you angry with me?”
I replied: “No... it's nothing. I need to focus, is all.”
“Here—take this,” she suddenly removes a dagger from under her mantle, “Use this when the time comes.”
I took the dagger from her and was instantly reminded of that night... It was the same dagger I took from the stock room. I replied: “Thank you, Cresalin. These troubling matters have placed me in a state of desolation—but when you are beside me, there is hope in my life. One day, I shall press myself in repayment to you.”
She blushed with that signature smile of hers while leaving the room. My chest aches with a foul pain once I lose sight of her. Again—I’m trapped in this perpetual state of mind. ‘Parasitical’ would be the best word to describe such a feeling. I wish it weren’t so, but lately, her presence has gone beyond the simple concept of friendship and into the realm of romance. Alas, I’m straying far from my current situation...
#
The hours dreadfully drag my patience beyond the point I will allow. Why do acts of corruption tempt me? The accusations regarding the disappearances. Horton and Dr. Krill were the only residents I had ever removed from this place. Krill was a danger to our kingdom, and Horton allowed his curiosity to place him into the clutches of that demon... I’m unsure about the others; perhaps someone here knows their whereabouts. Alen goes on and on about my deeds without any hard evidence to back him up; no—he will blame me for my wrongdoings until he convinces me that I committed these crimes. Is it possible for him to be responsible? If allowed to walk freely, I can figure this out myself. To my misfortune, I remain in the cafeteria surrounded by his mercs, who are more than willing to kill me for attempting to leave.
They talk among each other about petty discourses with a lack of self-awareness. I consider the experiment with the rat shroom, testing this very concept on humans. If Alen is why my people are disappearing, then there is no chance I will walk away, proving my innocence... At this point, I may as well wait for them to hang me outside the castle walls. There is another problem I must consider: if I were to control one of their minds, I must sacrifice the other’s life, in which I’m murdering two feasibly innocent souls. I do not know what will happen to the previous host I control, but I hope they will go back to normal the next day. However, such an idea has yet to be explored.
No, it’s too late now. Alen returned with a wide smirk plastered on his face. “I had caught you now, preacher,” he said, amused, “I have found evidence to my accusation.”
As I peered at his attire and surroundings, I could not spot this claim, so I asked, “What do you have that proves my guilt?”
He responded: “I have your journal, containing the pages that describe your actions in detail.”
I reply with imposing agitation: “Journal? I had never contained one, let alone written one on its pages. I have sent letters to the Archphader and nothing more!” Truly, I had never contained my past in any journal.
Alen continues: “Let begin with the first victim, Evelyne, death from suffocation by your hands,” he flips the next few pages, “Howard Poe, stabbed repeatedly outside the cathedral walls...” Again, he skips the pages, “Phader Horton, suffocated to death. Dr. Krill buried alive...” he closes the journal then crosses his arms, shaking his head with a foul smirk. “You thought of me as dull, did you Preacher?”
Never in my life have I felt this roaring fire within me... The pages detail lies of my actions! Somebody wrote these false stories to portray me as a villain. I ask Alen: “Was it you who wrote those false stories?”
He laughed: “Aw, I see—defeated as you are, you choose the path of denial and believe I am the murderer. Oh, Preacher, you have no idea how happy I am to see someone like you fall to your knees... Now, let’s get this over with. Take him to the dungeon while I tend to the preparations.”
This is it for me... this accusation, the politics, the anguish I had suffered through, and the past transgressions of everyone who had pushed my younger self... My patience has thinned over these past months; now, there is no reason to hold myself back. If I am to be selected as everyone’s toy to discard, I shall act out my revenge accordingly—and without hesitation.
The mercs take my arms as Alen watches as I am pulled out from the door—into the main hall, then descend into the dungeon. To my fortune, he did accompany us as we traversed, thus allowing my deeds to be unseen by the common eye. I whisper: “Taketh the soul from the body—become one with the other, guiding the whims to my own,” The merc on the right fainted as the other on my left was taken under my control. I demanded her to release me, then asked: “Tell me everything you know regarding Alen’s intentions...”
She responded with an ominous voice, choking from the very words she spoke: “He believes Karthuras is a murderer and traitor to his people... Once he is imprisoned, a messenger will be sent to the Archphader of his transgressions. If, in any case, he does send the letter, the Archphader will return with armed guards for Karthuras’s head.”
From that answer, I understood the motivation, though troubling for me... The reality of this situation is that he sees me as the murderer. There are no political ties to that motion. Alas, his bias towards me will only hinder my survival. It’s a shame I had to commit to this act of heresy, but like him, I wish to know the truth for myself, and the only way I can do so is by revealing the culprit who placed me in this situation. Demon—human? It matters not who; I only need an answer to this question.
Once I collected myself, I went on to see Alen again, who was no longer in the cafeteria but somewhere else within the cathedral. I kept the merc walking in front of my steed and followed behind her. Roaming the halls has become ever more tedium as I search for him. First, I entered his quarters, then went to the cellar until I returned to my study, where I heard the scribbling on the other side of the door. I glance inside, seeing him in my chair, writing a letter... I had to reframe myself from moving in too quickly; after all, that letter may be my only salvation—depending on its words and response, I may be able to... Wait a minute, if I could control his mind, my worries would be over! It’s time for me to test a new theory.
I made the merc walk into the room, where Alen became disturbed and asked for a response. No response came from her lips and rather my own... And as expected from my intellect—I was right. The merc falls over lifeless as Alen stumbles for a moment until he succumbs to my mind control. I stand face to face with him now, watching the pupils slowly drift towards the back of his skull—now, I must read the letter.
To our humble Archphader, my suspicions were all true. Phader Karthuras Rotolo is the murderer, as previously stated. I hold the evidence needed to state his crimes for trial. We could end him sooner rather than later so he may be replaced instantly. With the evidence I have provided, there is little to no reason why I should delay his execution. Once you receive this letter, I demand you respond with haste!
This letter would have indeed guaranteed my death; thus, I allow the fire to consume its contents. With Alen under my control, I can rid myself of this burden and return to more critical matters... It’s a shame having to end this problem through—unsavory means.