The envoy finished his declaration with a flourish.
King Faussius III did not answer him for some time. “Give me some time to consider your proposal.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” the envoy said, bowed, and then exited the stage.
King Faussius III stepped off his throne to the front of the stage, now addressing the audience directly. “The Ruler of the Astral Winds - he may style himself as a great learned and wise Liberomancer, and yet his greed knows no bounds. He has so much of the world in the palm of his hands, and yet he still weeps over the tiny sliver that is not his. My father had been foolish indeed to think that we would be left alone so long as we did not antagonize him. I cannot bend the knee - I cannot allow it. We will fight this tyrant.” He then paused and shook his head. “Yet, I also see no hope for victory.”
He then exited, and the set was changed to what looked like a royal bedroom. The curtain lifted to show that King Faussius III was still awake, working at a desk, when something came in off stage.
“Who goes there?” he suddenly said, getting up, as if he had noticed an intruder walking into the room.
They must have used some special effect for this with the help of Liberomancy, much like the earlier play I had seen about the Goddess Serragnin, because there was a dark shadow in the middle of the stage, though the sunlight was still streaming into the theater.
Nothing was casting the shadow and yet it was still there, I had no other way to describe it other than as if they had invented something like a ‘flashdark.’
A voice came from somewhere off stage, though from the direction of the shadow.
“Do you seek power?”
“Who is it?” King Faussius asked again.
“I will ask you once more, do you seek power? The power to overcome the Ruler of the Astral Winds?”
King Faussius stopped. He peered at the shadow and then recoiled. “What manner of beast are you?”
“Not a beast, Your Highness, but a spirit,” it answered. “One who has seen the mountains rise and fall, valleys formed from rivers, one who traveled the land freely when humanity was still crawling through the mud in caves, and one who greeted Lady Serragnin when she descended upon this mortal realm.”
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King Faussius looked nervous now. “You - you are the Darkness?”
“Most perceptive, Your Highness,” the Darkness said. “The Spirit of the Darkness - and I have come to give you aid during your time of need.”
“Aid? What could the Spirit of Darkness wish to aid me with?” King Faussius asked.
“I can show you how you can defeat the Ruler of the Astral Winds,” the Darkness said. “Your people would never again have to fear living in his shadow. Peace will return to your kingdom, and your father’s legacy will be saved. Moreover, the world will be rid of a terrible tyrant.”
“That sounds far too good to be true,” King Faussius answered, and then narrowed his eyes. “And what do you ask of me in return for such help?”
“Very perceptive, Your Highness, but I only have a small favor to ask of you,” the Darkness answered. “I merely wish for a place to stay.”
“To stay? Like a house or-”
“-no, no, Your Majesty. Tell me, where does the Spirit of Light live? In the streams of sunshine that embrace the Earth. Where does the Spirit of Water live? In the streams and rivers of the world. Where does the Spirit of the Earth live? In the soil beneath us. Where dose the Spirit of the Air live? In the winds themselves. Where does the Spirit of Fire live? In the flames that light the world. And where do I, the Spirit of Darkness live?”
“In the hearts of men,” King Faussius replied.
“Ah, correct you are once again, Your Majesty. Yet I am at a disadvantage when compared to my spiritual brethren - I cannot live in my natural place without permission. And so, that is what I ask of you, Your Majesty. Give me your heart, and I will show the path to victory,” the Darkness said.
“You lie, trickster,” King Faussius said. The anger was apparent in his voice as his actor had no real understanding of the concept of subtlety it seemed. “Tell me first, what help could you possibly give me?”
“The gap between Rank Four and Rank Five is vast indeed,” the Darkness said. “The only hope you have of bridging that gap is a demonic grimoire.”
The sound of thunder came.
“Demonic… grimoire?” King Faussius asked.
I had heard of them - much as there were some grimoires that required certain materials to be written on or special kinds of ink, well, there were some that were considered ‘demonic’ for a very simple reason: they required the murder of an innocent in order to be made.
They usually had to either be written with the blood of the victims, on paper made of their skin, or both.
There were no work-around or loopholes as to who you could kill - you couldn’t kill a convicted convict or someone in self-defense and then make one.
No, the act of murdering an innocent victim itself was necessary to their creation. Very little information was available regarding many of them for the simple reason that they were very obviously banned. Using a spell or skill from a demonic scripture was tantamount to declaring yourself a murderer after all. They were, however, said to be far more powerful than usual spells of whatever Rank they belonged to.
And the moment a demonic grimoire was mentioned in this story, I realized that I had heard of this King Faussius III person before - not by that very name, but by another title in the stories that I had heard. A title he would become far more famous for.
“You ask of me to slaughter innocents?” King Faussius asked.