Marco X

One carriage flaunting the Vermilon banner of a dark oxen head on a green field approached the end of the Pilgrim Road, together with it a small retinue of two knights, their squires and servants.

Inside the carriage, Marco informed Lucas, "There will be an inspection at the wall to prevent infiltration of cursed beings. It shouldn't be a problem."

Indeed, Lucas was unperturbed. Too unperturbed. Even Marco's question from two days before had not upset him at all.

Is he trying to pretend it never happened? Marco also pondered long and hard about why the Light of Truth could not judge Lucas's answer then. That night he couldn't sleep. Yet come morning, he was none the wiser. I have to ask the professor.

"What kind?" Lucas asked.

"It tests for holy or demonic energy."

The stretch of the Pilgrim Road in West Bismuth had been bustling with wagons and commonfolk on foot.

"They are all going to the capital," Marco said.

"Why are they bringing their whole family?"

"These poor souls have fled their homes, Lucas." Marco searched his brother's face for any hint of sympathy but his face was simply... tranquil. "That's because of the horde of cursed beasts attacking their homelands. Most of them come from East Bismuth where one of the demons had made its hive—"

"In Atamar. I remember. A hundred years ago, when the demon landed, Atamar fell."

"Exactly. That might come up in the test." Marco thought it was a good opportunity to educate him. Through out their journey, he had been telling him tales from history. "We are in our fifth attempt to recapture the city but the citizens have lost faith that this Crusade would even succeed. Each failed Crusade only resulted in the hive's expansion. If this one fails, the entirety of East Bismuth might become part of the hive. Then the war would be right at the front door of the West."

"Is it true, that the angels and demons fought at Atamar?"

"Well, that account was from a century past; so no one could know for certain. The crown's Guardian Order preaches that it was the Angel Michael who fought the demon there."

"If the demon is still there, then it means the Angel was defeated?"

"Only because the then royal family stabbed Michael in the back."

"The Kaelgraves."

Marco nodded, proud that Lucas had paid attention. "The Kaelgraves of Atamar. Some people said the demon cursed them to immortality but no one had really seen them after the First Crusade. It was likely Michael had wiped them out, all those in their bloodline. Probably because he also had to deal with the Kaelgraves, Michael had lost. Remember Lucas, an angel and demon are always equal in power. Neither is stronger than the other. What injuries Michael suffered, he inflicted the same on his enemy. It is said that they are both recovering from the aftermath, that is why the hive's growth had been impeded for a century. But Michael hasn't appeared since. They even think he's already gone."

"It's been so long. He should have recuperated by now."

"Well, not exactly. A hundred years is just a blink of an eye to an immortal being."

Saying that out loud, Marco realized how small he was. In the design of heaven and earth, he was but a bubble of flesh and water born only to disappear into oblivion.

An old man glanced up at their carriage as they passed by. Marco caught his tired yet hopeful gaze. He pulled a wagon where his three children sat with their bare feet dangling among a cage of ducks and their belongings. The sound of tin and clay pots mixed in with the sound of his labored breaths. He trudged up the Road, legs soiled, his shirt even dirtier. He fastened his eyes at Marco as if in entreatment though Marco was not certain what he was asking. He opened his mouth to speak, but any words he uttered was lost to the wind as Marco rode out of earshot.

A woman watched their carriage roll by. She was holding a hand over her rotund belly. She would be giving birth soon, Marco realized.

He studied each one of them until he could no longer bear to behold them or smell them. He turned away, intending to close the window but stopped himself from doing so when he found Lucas intently looking on at the commonners. It was times like this when Marco wished he had the talent to read his mind.

Their carriage came to a halt at the western gate. Ser Gerald's voice announced, "Before you is Lord Marco of House Vermilon, heir to the Lordship of Gallagher."

They were asked to step out while the Gallenport soldiers bearing the sigil of the three-pronged star inspected their carriage.

An officer in the gray and gold garb of the Michaelic Order stepped towards them. He tested each soldier and servant with an artifact in the shape of the Star of Michael before approaching Marco.

"My lord, your hand if I may."

"Of course." Marco lay his palm open. Even before the tip of the stem of the artifact touched him, all three of the star's blades burst into light, startling the officer.

"I have not seen it glow this much before." He closed his eyes, and proceeded to place the artifact on Marco's palm without drawing blood. It only glimmered more brightly. "Thank you my lord.

He moved to Lucas, addressing him, "My Lord."

Lucas's attire was bare of any oxen sigil but his stark golden hair betrayed his bloodline. "I am no Lord. I'm Lucas."

The officer was confused but proceeded to place the artifact softly on Lucas's hand. The Star produced no reaction, confounding its holder. Even those with no talent for the holy power could elicit a faint light from the artifact, because after all, life was a gift from the heavens. It was said that the soul is tied to the mortal body by a flimsy thread of holy power ordained by the divine lord. The Star of Michael should flicker no matter what, as long as it touches a living human being. Unless...

"What is going on?" Marco asked the officer.

"I do not know what to make of it, my lord."

Lucas asked with flustered eyes. "Does that mean I am not allowed in?"

The man explained, "The artifact should darken if it touches a cursed being. But it simply became inert."

Crack!

The officer's face contorted in panic as a fissure flowered at the very center of the artifact. Its roots branched out until the Star of Michael collapsed in his hands. He gasped as its holy shards skittered across the stones.

An artifact only broke when damaged or it lost the holy power contained within it.

"Could it be that the immense holy power from my lord earlier had broken it?" The officer said.

A lie. He must be scared of the huge cost he had to pay for the shattered Star of Michael. Marco had undergone this test several times; not once did his power break the artifacts.

"Probably. Then please relay this to your master. He can meet me if any problem arises," Marco answered. There was no use in letting the poor man bear the blame. "Then, are we allowed passage?"

The officer bowed and gestured with his arms politely, "Of course, my lord."

Gallenport was a city thriving with life. The west entrance opened to a small square where merchants from outside the city unloaded their goods and hawkers haggled with them. People of all colors walked the streets. Houses stood next to each other with no room to breathe.

"My lords, do you need somewhere to relieve your fatigue?" a bearded man with a pierced nose approached their carriage. One of Marco's mounted escorts kept him at bay with a stern hand. When the escort told him who was inside the carriage, the man scampered away in fear.

"What did he mean?" Lucas asked.

"Girls," Marco replied.

"Oh."

"You might meet a girl here, Lucas. But remember your virtues," he cautioned him. He wondered if Lucas even knew what old men and women do. He had a text on biology. But did he understand it?

"I don't think anybody will even like me," he said plainly.

Marco's heart sank at his remark. The Earl of Gallagher had started introducing potential matches for Marco. In a year or two, he would likely be bethroted. Meanwhile, he was not sure if Lucas could experience liking a woman and being reciprocated.

Gallenport shall give him the chance. Marco hoped.

Above the mud-tile roofs loomed the white spires of the Araian Keep. In the height of noon, it's glare was blinding.

"I am supposed to have an audience with the king first," Marco said to his little brother. Every noble visiting the capital would make straight for the royal castle as soon as they arrived to pay respects.

"Can I come with?" Lucas beamed excitedly.

"I'm afraid not, Lucas. I'm sorry."

Lucas was not recognized as a Vermilon. It would be an insult to the king to bring a disowned child before his presence.

Lucas was adamant. "I can act like one of the servants. I can wear a cap to cover my hair."

Still you have the features of the Vermilon blood. I cannot risk it. If they find out, our House have to answer for this slight.

Marco was firm. "I'll only take Ser Gerald with me. I'll leave you with the rest of the guards."

"I understand," Lucas replied quietly.

The way from the square to the keep took longer than it was supposed to. The street was bustling with not only commoners who were slow to move out of the way but also dogs and cats and children running about.

One of their guards yelled to a kid who almost got trampled by a horse.

Marco reprimanded him, "Keep your wits about you, ser. It was the kid who nearly got hurt."

"My aplogies, my lord."

Past the fort of the Keep where sentries allowed them entry, Marco stepped out from the carriage. He ordered to Dunce, "Watch over my brother." The squire nodded, despite the disheartened expression on his face. "Come, Ser Gerald."

The Captain Knight lumbered briskly behind him. "A word, my lord, if I may," he said as they were approaching the stairs to the Keep.

"I am always grateful for your counsel."

"It is about the incident at the west gate, where the artifact broke. I am not sure if my lord is already aware but the Star only becomes inert when in contact with an animal or a —"

"A dead person. I know. Thank you for your concern, Ser Gerald. Please keep on watching over us."

"It is my duty."