The Uninvited Guest

"Lucius Lark," Bel-ibni's voice reverberated through the hall, his tone heavy with disdain as he raised his hand from the arm of his throne.

"On the Erishkal's name, why aren't you… supposedly dead?" Bel-ibni's gaze shifted to his daughter, who turned her head towards the large gate, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, I don't know about that..." Lucius began, raising his hand to his face, fingers spread in a theatrical gesture of contemplation.

He paused, then expanded the gesture with a sudden, exaggerated realization. "Oh, I know! She wants a new guide." A sly smile crept across his face, the corners of his mouth lifting in a taunting grin.

Lucius stepped forward, emerging from the shadows like a wraith. His armor, an embodiment of icy menace, gleamed with a faint blue hue, as if perpetually dusted with frost.

The spear, slender yet imposing, rested in a simple, unadorned scabbard at his side. Only the hilt, subtly decorated with a single, glistening sapphire, offered any hint of extravagance.

His hair, a wild mane of dark purple, cascaded down his back, bound loosely in a style that resembled a tousled ponytail, strands occasionally escaping to flutter across his face.

"And why would she want that?" Bel-ibni asked, his voice slicing through the tension. His eyes, sharp and calculating, remained fixed on his daughter.

"Maybe because of her lover," Lucius replied, his expression shifting to one of exaggerated sorrow, his hand once again moving to his face in a mock display of grief. "I thought—" he started, but Bel-ibni cut him off with a sharp, dismissive gesture.

"Enough of the façade. Act properly, will you?" Bel-ibni's tone was clipped, irritation seeping into his words.

"Fine." The transformation in Lucius was immediate, the jovial mask vanishing. His posture straightened, his expression hardened, and the air around him grew colder, more threatening. The jester was gone, replaced by a calculating figure.

"See, that's why I don't like him!" Sin-iddin-apli burst out, rising from the couch with a swift, fluid motion. Her eyes flashed with anger. "He's a fake!" she accused, pointing an accusing finger at Lucius.

"I am not! Just think of it as—" Lucius paused, casting a sideways glance at Bel-ibni, who looked increasingly weary of the exchange. Lucius's gaze lingered, as if daring the king to respond. "A façade, as your father just said."

"That's being a fake," she snapped back, her voice laced with frustration and defiance.

Bel-ibni leaned forward slightly, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "You want a new guide, Sin-iddin-apli? Why, I would myself like to grant you one, but you know the Sage forbids such a change."

"I know..." she muttered, her voice tinged with resignation. "Could you stop calling me that? 'Sid' is fine," she added quietly, almost under her breath.

"Isn't 'Sid' a boy's name?" Bel-ibni asked, glancing over at Lucius, who was now leaning casually on his sword, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"Maybe? I'm not really familiar with things outside the stem," Lucius replied with a nonchalant shrug, clearly unfazed by the conversation's turn.

"Alright… Sid." Bel-ibni tried the name, the syllables unfamiliar on his tongue. "Why do you want a new guide? You chose Lucius yourself, didn't you?" he asked, his tone probing.

"I did, but back then... he—"

"I what?" Lucius interrupted, his gaze locking onto Sid's. He moved closer, each step measured and deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. His smile was unsettling, too broad and too knowing.

Bel-ibni's shoulders slumped slightly, a heavy sigh escaping him. The exhaustion was evident.

Bel-ibni raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between his daughter and Lucius. The tension in the room thickened, like ice forming on a still pond.

"Lucius," he said, his voice low and measured, "explain yourself. Why doesn't Sin-iddin-apli want you to be her guide? In my opinion, I think it too late to change."

"Long story short, your daughter is in a twisted fantasy, knight and shining armor that type," Lucius said slowly, changing his gaze from Sid to Bel-ibni, who looked really confused.

"Ah, anyway."

"Lucius, what skill did you receive from the Sage?" Bel-ibni asked, trying to change the conversation, his voice straining to mask his curiosity.

"Oh, minor wind conjuration. Well, not exactly conjuration," Lucius replied slowly, as if choosing his words with deliberate caution.

Bringing forth his hands, the air in the room seemed to pause, momentarily held in anticipation. "I can only create a minor orb, though," Lucius continued.

The air began to draw toward his palm, swirling as if obeying an unseen command. Sid scoffed, unimpressed, while Bel-ibni leaned in, visibly intrigued by the demonstration.

"That's a well-rounded skill; it should work well with your attachment," Bel-ibni commented, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I suppose the Sage's gift of skills really was helpful." He pressed his hand to his face, feeling the icy pressure in the room diminish slightly.

"The air," Lucius muttered, his entire demeanor shifting. He raised his hand, and for a moment, his focus sharpened as he directed the energy toward Bel-ibni.

"Oh?" Bel-ibni muttered, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Eh, nothing really. Sin-iddin-apli just doesn't like you," Lucius said slowly, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he aimed his hands in Bel-ibni's direction.

"I am aware," Bel-ibni responded, his tone weary. "My constant comparisons to her mother aren't exactly endearing." He sighed, visibly tired.

"I still hate you, Lucius," Sin-iddin-apli said from the corner, her voice sharp and cutting through the tension.

"Alright!" Lucius replied cheerfully, unaffected by her disdain.

"But back to the matter at hand—Kokoro died a few hours ago. His body is still there, untouched and ignored. No one cared enough to do anything for it. The only one with a heart big enough, though not really big, was Henri. But all he did was beat Kokoro's son; he did nothing for Kokoro's dead body." Bel-ibni said slowly.

"I really don't care," Lucius said dismissively. The orb of compressed air, now swirling at a frightening speed, grew as large as Lucius's palm. Without further hesitation, he propelled it toward Bel-ibni with a flick of his wrist.

Bel-ibni waved his hand, effortlessly dispelling the orb. The air scattered, and a calm settled back into the room.

"Well, that's that," Lucius said, shrugging both his hands as if the display was nothing more than a trivial exercise.

"It wouldn't be right to die now," Bel-ibni continued, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "If one of us falls, it could become like a disease—spreading, unchecked. We wouldn't want all the heirs running around, killing their respective heads, would we?" He paused, his hand still raised, and his eyes never leaving Lucius.

"You can kill me after this quest ends, Sin-iddin-apli," Bel-ibni said, his voice firm yet carrying a note of resignation. "Not by anyone's skill. Not by your own skill. I would very much like it to be by your hands." A single drop of blood trickled from his finger, dark and telling.

"Cut yours, and put it on the Erishkal's name," he muttered slightly, his words heavy with unspoken history and unbroken oaths.

"It isn't on anything," Sin-iddin-apli replied, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond her father's, refusing to meet his eyes.

"It is on my life. Isn't that a big enough 'thing'?" Bel-ibni responded almost instantly, his voice echoing with the finality of a closed door.

Sin-iddin-apli scoffed, the sound low and derisive, tinged with the weight of past grievances and unresolved anger.

"Want to use my spear?" Lucius interjected, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he held out his blade, its edge gleaming faintly in the dim light.

"No," she replied curtly, her expression unyielding.

"Alright then," Lucius said with a casual shrug, turning his gaze back to Bel-ibni, who still had his hand extended, the blood now pooling at the tip of his finger.

Sin-iddin-apli bit the tip of her own thumb, the same finger her father used. Blood trickled down, slow and deliberate.

"On the Erishkal's name," she echoed, her voice steady despite the tension rippling through the room.

Their blood dripped, mingling in the air, a symbolic act as much as it was a binding one. The weight of their pact hung heavy, a silent testament to promises made and yet to be fulfilled.

Lucius watched, his expression inscrutable. "Well, that's quite the show of loyalty," he remarked, his tone light but edged with a trace of genuine admiration. "But it's not like I'm surprised. You two have always been dramatic."

Bel-ibni lowered his hand, the blood still dripping slowly. "We're bound by more than just family, Lucius," he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of solemnity. "This is about honor, and legacy, and all the things that people like you pretend not to care about."

Lucius shrugged again, this time with a hint of mockery. "Honor's just a word, Bel-ibni. Legacy? That's just what people say when they want to be remembered. But in the end, we're all just fighting to survive."

Sin-iddin-apli looked between them, her eyes narrowing. "Enough," she said sharply. "I'd like to go to my room now. A year is a really short time, and we're wasting it."

Lucius raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Back to business, then." He turned, but the tension remained, a lingering presence that refused to be dispelled as easily as the air orb.

"Lucius, you are a person in this hall; you are a witness, a Notary Public," Bel-ibni said slowly, resting his hands on the armrest.

"Gotcha. I'm gonna leave now," he said, turning around in one swift motion, walking towards the large door. "See you later, sweetheart," he added, making a kissing gesture that flew toward Sid.

"I also don't like that," she said to her father before shoving her hand in front of the kiss.

"That may be fixed," he muttered.