It was as black as the void. It was as cold as the dead of the alpine. It was as quiet as a mansion within the heart of a storm. It stank of death, decay and dreariness.
Not even the staircase was lit as the elevator had rolled up earlier. He entered the room in complete darkness; the quiet and dimness easing his headache, yet the rot and the chill did not.
He had ascended the staircase by this point; slow as to not trip in the dark, navigating via memory and feelings. He did not know where he stood in the throne room. All he knew is that the balcony door resided to his left, a tiny bit open. He heard a singular footstep to the left behind him.
He turned, seeing as much black as he does everywhere else. The soft thunder and ghostly whistle outside is the only thing making noise.
Until the door shut. Fully. Totally.
He could hear his own heartbeat. He could feel the stretch. A light flicked on in front of him, far above the ebony throne. And what lay on it was a sight to behold. Not yet however.
His eyes suffer whiplash from the brightness among the darkness. Just as that light turned on, a faint beep came from the top right behind him. The light of the throne was jarring, and so he looked instead to the beep.
Unsquinting his eyes, a tiny little red flashing light started. That too is when a sound started. A tiny sound. It sounded like wailing. His head slowly turned to meet the carrion light of the throne as the wailing slowly, slowly grew.
His golden eyes opened wide. His heart palpitated with dread. He looked upon the throne, thunder humming vaguely from outside.
The beheaded, rotting corpse of Halcyon sat upon his master's throne. Plague ate away at the remains of his gory neck. His arms, strung up high into the armrests like a puppet. The throne, so massive that the legs of the nine-foot-tall man still dangled off of it.
The wailing grew, sounding akin to the foreboding start of a monk chant. As if an anthem of the morgues. Another footsteps came from behind. And then another. And then another. But Proteus remained transfixed on the throne. Unable to peel his eyes away from the rot of his former colleagues in front of him; invading his master's exclusive space. Deep blood dripping onto his rubric robes.
Another footsteps came. Then another. Then another. The wailing grows, the voices of the damned growing more wavy and distraught each passing second. Another footsteps came. Then another. Then another.
Finally… it stopped right next to him. Proteus was unable to move. He tried desperately to.
His heart, beating out of his throat. His lungs, full of air and the poison of his own body. His eyes, filled with a sight that will fail to leave him.
A gentle thud emanates beside him, as if a knee being lowered to the ground. And a giant hand is placed upon him. Proteus still could not look. The wailing is reaching a crescendo as he looked upon the corpse of a father.
When it felt like his body was about to explode… a beep turns the top right camera off. And with it, the wailing dies instantly. The only noise was his shallow breaths. Until his master whispers beside him.
“Take in the sight. It is one you need to remember.”
Proteus's eyes slowly ground within his skull for his gaze to meet his masters. His neck tremors as he struggles to look away from the corpse. He doesn't know what to say yet. And so his master continues.
“The sight upon my throne is not about Halcyon, Proteus.”
The light turned off again, and he felt his master remove his hand. He couldn't hear his moments even if he felt that he had left. Suddenly, the rustle of some fabric. Then, what sounded like a melon crushed by an anvil fallen from orbit— both a squish and a crunch.
Suddenly, the lights were turned on.
The stench was gone and, as his eyes painfully adjusted with his hands covering his eyes… he saw his master upon the throne. Perfectly clean. Sanitized. As if nothing had even happened.
He looked up to his godly master, who discarded his reason to be here.
“You are right to assume that the author is the Archliege, Proteus. Yet you are wrong. There is a more important matter we must discuss for now.”
Proteus regains his composure. Or at least, a facade of it. Once the most level headed of them all, his mind is being beaten in the presence of his master. “What might that be?” He asked Gauth Van Hulsieg.
His master answered, now stationary on his throne. “Your health, Proteus. You are not yourself.”
“Who are you to question that?!” Proteus yelled in protest. His mind throbbed. His temples ached. Every light pierced his eyes like a title wave.
His master, the God-Man, rose quickly from the throne at such a comment. Yet he maintains his unknowable expressions.
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“Tread carefully, Proteus. I am your master.”
An unexpected twist occurs. The elevator shaft begins descending. The two heard the door close, knowing what the sound meant. Proteus witness his master's head turn like a wolf at the sound, something changing behind his eyes. “Display insubordination from a question such as that again, and you will have proven your redundancy. Understood?”
His voice was calm and filled with guarantee. Proteus yielded.
“Of course… Gauth Van Hulsieg. My master.”
“You grow more debaucherous.” The God-Man accuses, forcing his sight to the ground as he circles like a vulture. “I have witnessed your assistant. You feel for each other beyond a professional level.”
Proteus vehemently disagreed. But who was he to protest at this point? His mind was dead set towards his own defense as his master spoke more. “You will try to deny my words because you are overwhelmed. So keep this in your mind…”
The God-Man leaned down, his whisper loud in his ear.
“If you truly wish to prove me wrong, your actions will speak on your behalf.” His master stands back tall, finishing his sentence as the elevator doors opens. “You are being tested, Proteus. And your consequences will extend far beyond yourself.”
“Of course, Gauth Van Hulsieg.” Proteus says.
Halcyon is burned into his eyes as he infers what those consequences might be. As he finished his sentence, his master turned to the arrival.
It was Cerberus, standing firm at the head of the staircase.
He pointed to the still-knelt Proteus.
“That is one of my best colleagues. He and I spoke earlier. While I trust him, I wish to speak for myself.”
Cerberus claims, then kneeling for his master.
The God-Man approached, his boots mere inches from Cerberus's cybernetic hands. “Rise, Cerberus. And then state. Your. Business.”
“It will be brief.” He assures his master as he stands; his master which turns his back to the giant. “We can no longer trust our colleagues such as Basilisk or Manticore to deliver their continued results. The times are changing, and new threats arise.”
He failed to get his master's full attention. And so he tries again with a more potent sentence.
“I do not know of this… Archliege that is being spoken of. But I can assume it is an ideology of some kind. Even James Mourner spoke of it as he died.”
Their master was walking back to Proteus as he spoke. Upon the news of James Mourner, his master stopped in place. He turned his head as another lightning bolt echoed.
“Is that so?” He asked, bringing his full attention to Cerberus. “Then why didn't you tell me that WHEN YOU LEFT THE EFFLUVIUM TANKS!?”
The monster leaned towards him as he shouted his question. Cerberus was a little taken back by the sight. Ordinarily, it may have spooked him. Yet now, he grows resistant.
“As I said. I did not know the value behind this Archliege we speak of. The fact that those among the sheep know of it when we do not is… alarming.”
His master's face took a brief moment to return to unknowable composure. Proteus remained knelt before the throne, keeping his eyes closed with a loud buzzing in his ears.
“Proteus. Get out.” His master ordered as both he and Cerberus make eye contact.
Cerberus folded his arms. Proteus complied.
“Of course, Gauth Van Hulsieg. I will return to my office.”
Proteus fled the scene down the elevator. Gauth Van Hulsieg opened the balcony door while slowly pacing towards his subject. The wind blew in the rain and raised the volume as he spoke.
“To think I asked your acquaintance to uncover the truth surrounding the resurrection of the Archliege… only to hear you hold the answers before I had even gathered suspicion!”
His master's cadence kept increasing near the end of each sentence. His master loomed over Cerberus once again, and yet still, he held steadfast.
“I owe you my total allegiance, Gauth Van Hulsieg. You may relinquish any suspicions you may have. My intentions remain pure.”
As his master untenses a little— Cerberus feels he has eased that potential concern.
“We are in grave danger. No more evidence is needed beyond your unusually surprised demeanor.”
His master doesn't seem to react to that comment. Cerberus expected that he might have. No matter, he thinks, as he delivers his final point.
“Allow me to crush them before this cancer becomes terminal. The culture is beginning to awaken. We must beat it back to slumber.”
There was a long pause of speaking from when he made his proposal to when the God-Man spoke again. It started as his master paced back to his throne, and it ended once he took his seat. His eyes darted to the camera for a microsecond to check it was off. It was. And so he spoke.
“A thrilling proposal, Cerberus. You continue to impress me.”
Cerberus unfolded his arms and nodded at the praise.
His lord continues. “You are right to question Basilisk. I will be speaking to her soon. Though be careful—“
His master warned, leaning forward in his chair with his arms placed upon the armrests. “—Your acquaintance, Proteus, is beginning to fail. I do not have faith in him. You must act while he is still functional.”
“Will you kill him?”
Cerberus asked, preparing to waste no time and leave.
“No.” His master answers. “I fear it may be himself.”
