As you step forward, you might accidentally kick something though, and it disappears into the dark. It wasn't very hard, and felt rather soft, actually.
Did you have a light source? You could probably pull a torch off the wall. Me like this world seems kinda medieval fantasy right. ]
[well. the one character who works very well for this would be gimel.
charles freezes for a moment. fury flares—but hey, at least now he's alone so no one has to feel his murderous vibes—before his mouth presses into a line.]
... This place just insists on disrespecting the dead, doesn't it?
That's definitely dead. There's swords in it. One of them might be Charles's, the selfsame one he used to stab Isabel earlier. The light of the torch flickers over him, and the dead do not answer.
That being said... the blood seems fresh, actually, and the corpse still warm. It seems like he died very recently. It's entirely possible that you were only moments too late to save him.
You hear more sounds from down the castle hallway, the entire place unnaturally dark and oppressing. ]
[charles does take a moment to kneel down, uncaring if this gets blood on his clothes (HE'S ALREADY BLOODY, FOR THAT MATTER) and check for any signs of his life, keeping his expression unreadable even if there's no one here to see him. it's not real, he knows. so, there's no point in thinking about it or lingering. the only thing he has to worry about is whatever the situation is; whatever it was that killed gimel in this scenario.
with that in mind, he gets back up, although even then, he closes his eyes for just a second in silent mourning. (remembering a man who pledged his life to charles and meant every word of it.) then, he goes to follow the noise.]
[ The surroundings are a little messy -- the implication definitely is that Gimel went down fighting, but failed in the end. He's very sorry he couldn't keep up his pledge, Charles. He would've liked to see how your journey ended.
Further down, you see more blood, with specks of colour here and there. You hear the consistent sound of something unfamiliar to you -- which is, it's only unfamiliar because it's machinery really. The source becomes clear when Charles stumbles upon a second body, the whirring coming from a mechanical wrist still weakly turning. It's mumbling nonsensically to itself, clearly in delirium and hardly alive. This is another friend of yours -- but the lines are blurring a little bit when you see a wizened face, dark eyebags, a brown fringe that used to be quite nice. A cane, broken in two.
'Become. Strong? Protect. Others. Failing. Was I strong enough?' ]
[great! this can be el, even if it's kind of mindtrippy to see her blur into someone who is very much not her.
... well, not that it's her, either way. (and it hurts, to see her, and to see her memory disrespected yet again.) even so, he finds himself saying—]
... You were strong enough. You protected everything you meant to, Elrica.
[alaune and i will take care of the rest. but he keeps that thought to himself, aware that this mimicry likely isn't even coherent enough to understand him. in the end, these are simply the words he wishes he could say to his old traveling companion.
(he warned her that pursuing her goal so single-mindedly would get her killed. he wishes he hadn't been right. even if he doesn't regret why he parted ways then—because his country will always be his first priority—he's still sorry that he couldn't have done more for her.)
does it seem like it might be a mercy to cut this body down here and now, or would it be better to simply move on?]
[ 'Have to. Finish? Goal. Important... for the betterment of...'
He can mercy-kill them if he wants to -- this is a confessional space, created specifically for Charles and only Charles. He can do whatever feels the most right as he's forced to face his past failures and burdens. People who Corroded where he didn't. People who died where he didn't.
[he thinks of gimel, who died believing in the future charles would create. if charles had never reunited with him in clearbrook, he'd probably still be alive. there's no point in thinking like that, though; he knows better than to disrespect the path gimel willingly chose for himself. (have i made you proud?)
he thinks of elrica, who set a standard he probably hasn't reached yet. after everything, after how cruelly she died—the least she deserved was peace, and she wasn't even granted that in the afterlife, instead turned into a monster sent against her loved ones.
...
he doesn't know what he can do to grant this soul peace. so, all he can do is cut down this form, as swiftly and mercifully as he can.]
[ The blade cuts easily, putting the distorted body to rest. Does it actually make it easier for Charles though? Does it lighten the burden any?
He can keep walking. As he does, the torchlight will reveal more and more bodies in the castle hallways in various states, some actually deceased, some in the process of it. The hallway is entirely too warm.
Is the price of war worth it, if it's to make a better world?
He can keep moving forward until he reaches the throne room, where a silhouette will be waiting. ]
[the act doesn't do much to grant his own soul peace, but he always knew that this was the path he'd walk down. (even as a child—this is why he was trained ni combat, after all. because even when young, he knew that one day he might have to raise his sword and fight.) this is what it means to be a leader—to bear the responsibility of these lives. to know that his choices mean the difference between life or death for so many.
he keeps walking. rinyuu, whom the guardians of light could not help. all the riven soldiers who died fighting for causes he championed. the revolution of edoras, repelling g'roha's invasion, the fight against the underworld.
... in the end, he still doesn't regret it. he believes in peace, will strive for it—but sometimes, that means fighting blood with blood when others threaten it. all he can do, as the one who continues to survive, is be someone worthy of that sacrifice. to make them proud and achieve the future they couldn't live to see.
still gripping his sword, he reaches the throne room.]
[ The silhouette should be familiar to you, you've seen it enough times -- mostly. Though the crown on its head seems a little larger than you remember it, when you last saw it probably somewhere around barely half an hour ago.
The throne room smells of fresh blood. The king raises a hand and looks down into it, new crimson staining his palm -- he wields a sword just like Charles's but larger in his other, still dripping.
It doesn't turn around to face Charles, not yet. ]
The voice is familiar, of course. Have you ever forgotten it? When it was a wise man giving you advice, when it was a warmonger bringing down sharp orders.
["when i was a boy, he taught me how a nation ought to be. but then, one day... he started speaking of invading our neighbours, and only thought of himself. i came to hate him."
it's been years, and even now, he hasn't forgotten his voice. of the man who was his role model, and then his antithesis—a representation of what charles would not be. even knowing this isn't him, it hurts. because he misses what once was, because he regrets how things became, because he thinks of what could've been. (if he hadn't been too late.) what version of the king is this?]
No I'm sorry. Anyway, you're not sure yet. I'm assuming there isn't a major physical difference between pre- and post-, but if there is, he seems to have the features of both.
'...Then what are you here for?'
'There is naught here which you believe in, I thought.' ]
there is no physical difference, really. what charles is really wondering is who this is—a man who believed he did the right thing or the one who regretted it. and ultimately, it doesn't matter, because this is a FUCKING FAKE.]
I'm here to find my friends. Are you here to get in my way?
'You must have seen the slaughter on the way here. Destruction follows us both.'
He doesn't answer whether he stands in Charles's way. Sure, he is objectively there, but this is the throne room -- there is no pathway behind him (or rather, in front of him?) to which Charles can proceed. Looks like he's stuck here, talking to a simulacrum of bits of his past, organised into a jumble.
'Blood stains both of our hands, boy. Do you think you're any better?' ]
[this is still getting in his way!!!!!!! leave you fuckin illusion so he can move on from this whole thing and find shoma and isabel.
anyhow. the accusation does sting, despite what charles would consider fairly thick skin. not because he's distressed at the thought of blood on his hands, because he's long since accepted that. it's as he told throné: "i've killed more than i'd like—and i'd do it again if my home's peace is threatened again." it stings because he believes his father—the real thing, not this insult—would likely be proud of him and what he's accomplished. the complete truth, however, is that he has no way of ever knowing. not with how he and his father parted ways.
he just shrugs, his tone flippant.]
Well, y'know. The old man [and you're not him] tried to have an innocent king assassinated for his plans of world conquest, and I've never done anything like that. So as a matter of fact, I'd say I'm a lot better.
[king riven wasn't a cackling madman. charles still disagrees with the man's decisions, but he can understand why made them. even so...]
Still, you're right. We're both greedy, he and I. Father wanted more land, more power, because he thought that was the only way to secure Riven's stability, and Riven's alone. To that end, he trampled over everyone else.
But as for me, I just can't settle for Riven's happiness, you see. I won't be satisfied with a world where I've only thought of myself—and I fight alongside those who feel the same way.
[because he's greedy for peace, for freedom, for happiness, and more importantly he wants those things for all. he has no interest in ruling the world, when he could instead pursue a path of working with others instead.]
So yes, I'll raise my sword in defence if need be. Should people hate me for it or criticize me, then so be it. If there's anything else I inherited from the old man, it's stubbornness.
[ The silhouette listens quietly -- or does it? Charles is well-aware that this is nothing but an illusion, his confession spilling forth as urged by the Golden Bough laying it all out on a platter for him to see and consider it.
'Yes... I can see that. I suppose you always were stubborn.'
'You cannot see the vision I see, ███████. You lack the mark. To sow new crops, the land must be bared anew -- loss begets growth.'
'Do you think your words of faith and speeches of friendship will save them? Only power stands strong in our world.'
'You cannot save everyone living in an idealist's world.'
'Or will you simply allow others to keep bleeding in your stead?' ]
Yeah. I can't save everyone, and I won't delude myself into thinking I can.
[he's seen what happens when someone places that obligation on themselves and truly believes they're meant to. charles will try, of course, but he will never forget that it's simply not realistic.]
But by pursuing power alone, Father almost brought Riven to ruin. Sorry, but I'm not so modest as to not give myself credit for fixing his mistakes.
[his father will be remembered by many as a warmongering king. already, ███████ is known as a king who made history and achieved peace. light of orsterra, hope of the future. his burden, his legacy, his gift to the next generation. he will make sure the world is a better place than the one he inherited from his father.
he points his sword at the king, prepared to attack.]
More blood might be spilled, but I won't disrespect those who stood by what they would fight—and die—for.
[he'll place his own life on the line too, and he'll continue to move forward, living in a way to make the dead proud.]
[ There's no derision, somehow. Maybe you expected it, maybe you didn't -- but there's a clear absence of it as Charles doubles down on his creed. The king can't even look at him, only lowering his gaze. His back has, and seemingly will to the end, be turned to Charles, where he cannot see the King of Riven's face.
'So in the end... you still will not join me.'
There is no disappointment, no relief. Only a distance that feels insurmountable now, a wide chasm. When did the cracks first appear? When did it grow?
Was there ever a point where you could've stopped it, where you could've reconciled?
'I expected as much of you.'
'One day, you will understand.'
The entire castle shakes, a strong tremour under your feet as the ground abruptly splits, dividing Charles from the King. He seems to proceed onward, flicking the blood off his blade as the scenery shifts and changes, as he walks straight back into his war. His bloody campaign tearing apart the land and the people until one day, ultimately --
A crown is a sign of power, but poor protection. It's only so long until the king himself is slain, far away where Charles can't reach him. ]
[the sad reality, charles knows, is that perhaps they could've reconciled. if he'd tried hard enough, if he'd stood his ground; but when his father told him to leave, he did. it's something he both regrets and yet knows also saved his life. and so, staying would've only doomed them both.
such is the unfortunate nature of politics, and what placed the crown on his head years too early. all he can do is live with the guilt of not being able to protect his family.
still, he won't follow his father into despair and death. (even if he might understand, he will not choose the same path.) with that in mind, he turns and leaves.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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he follows the trail of blood, gripping his sword more tightly. anything he can hear from the outside, or is everything silent?]
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As you step forward, you might accidentally kick something though, and it disappears into the dark. It wasn't very hard, and felt rather soft, actually.
Did you have a light source? You could probably pull a torch off the wall. Me like this world seems kinda medieval fantasy right. ]
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[great!!! but yeah, he's from the medieval octopath. so, he will in fact grab a torch for light.]
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A green present box! Wow, where have you seen that before. However, there's no body attached to it.
With the torch in hand, you can see further though, spotting bloody balloons and tinsel until you finally come across an unmoving, monstrous body.
Instead of Isabel though, it looks like someone else. An old companion you once had? Someone who isn't with you anymore. ]
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charles freezes for a moment. fury flares—but hey, at least now he's alone so no one has to feel his murderous vibes—before his mouth presses into a line.]
... This place just insists on disrespecting the dead, doesn't it?
[he will carefully approach the unmoving body.]
no subject
That's definitely dead. There's swords in it. One of them might be Charles's, the selfsame one he used to stab Isabel earlier. The light of the torch flickers over him, and the dead do not answer.
That being said... the blood seems fresh, actually, and the corpse still warm. It seems like he died very recently. It's entirely possible that you were only moments too late to save him.
You hear more sounds from down the castle hallway, the entire place unnaturally dark and oppressing. ]
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[charles does take a moment to kneel down, uncaring if this gets blood on his clothes (HE'S ALREADY BLOODY, FOR THAT MATTER) and check for any signs of his life, keeping his expression unreadable even if there's no one here to see him. it's not real, he knows. so, there's no point in thinking about it or lingering. the only thing he has to worry about is whatever the situation is; whatever it was that killed gimel in this scenario.
with that in mind, he gets back up, although even then, he closes his eyes for just a second in silent mourning. (remembering a man who pledged his life to charles and meant every word of it.) then, he goes to follow the noise.]
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Further down, you see more blood, with specks of colour here and there. You hear the consistent sound of something unfamiliar to you -- which is, it's only unfamiliar because it's machinery really. The source becomes clear when Charles stumbles upon a second body, the whirring coming from a mechanical wrist still weakly turning. It's mumbling nonsensically to itself, clearly in delirium and hardly alive. This is another friend of yours -- but the lines are blurring a little bit when you see a wizened face, dark eyebags, a brown fringe that used to be quite nice. A cane, broken in two.
'Become. Strong? Protect. Others. Failing. Was I strong enough?' ]
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... well, not that it's her, either way. (and it hurts, to see her, and to see her memory disrespected yet again.) even so, he finds himself saying—]
... You were strong enough. You protected everything you meant to, Elrica.
[alaune and i will take care of the rest. but he keeps that thought to himself, aware that this mimicry likely isn't even coherent enough to understand him. in the end, these are simply the words he wishes he could say to his old traveling companion.
(he warned her that pursuing her goal so single-mindedly would get her killed. he wishes he hadn't been right. even if he doesn't regret why he parted ways then—because his country will always be his first priority—he's still sorry that he couldn't have done more for her.)
does it seem like it might be a mercy to cut this body down here and now, or would it be better to simply move on?]
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He can mercy-kill them if he wants to -- this is a confessional space, created specifically for Charles and only Charles. He can do whatever feels the most right as he's forced to face his past failures and burdens. People who Corroded where he didn't. People who died where he didn't.
What could you have done, though? ]
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he thinks of elrica, who set a standard he probably hasn't reached yet. after everything, after how cruelly she died—the least she deserved was peace, and she wasn't even granted that in the afterlife, instead turned into a monster sent against her loved ones.
...
he doesn't know what he can do to grant this soul peace. so, all he can do is cut down this form, as swiftly and mercifully as he can.]
no subject
He can keep walking. As he does, the torchlight will reveal more and more bodies in the castle hallways in various states, some actually deceased, some in the process of it. The hallway is entirely too warm.
Is the price of war worth it, if it's to make a better world?
He can keep moving forward until he reaches the throne room, where a silhouette will be waiting. ]
no subject
he keeps walking. rinyuu, whom the guardians of light could not help. all the riven soldiers who died fighting for causes he championed. the revolution of edoras, repelling g'roha's invasion, the fight against the underworld.
... in the end, he still doesn't regret it. he believes in peace, will strive for it—but sometimes, that means fighting blood with blood when others threaten it. all he can do, as the one who continues to survive, is be someone worthy of that sacrifice. to make them proud and achieve the future they couldn't live to see.
still gripping his sword, he reaches the throne room.]
no subject
The throne room smells of fresh blood. The king raises a hand and looks down into it, new crimson staining his palm -- he wields a sword just like Charles's but larger in his other, still dripping.
It doesn't turn around to face Charles, not yet. ]
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charles approaches steadily, sword still in his hand and poised to fight.]
Show yourself.
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'███████.'
The voice is familiar, of course. Have you ever forgotten it? When it was a wise man giving you advice, when it was a warmonger bringing down sharp orders.
'You've returned. For what reason?' ]
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it's been years, and even now, he hasn't forgotten his voice. of the man who was his role model, and then his antithesis—a representation of what charles would not be. even knowing this isn't him, it hurts. because he misses what once was, because he regrets how things became, because he thinks of what could've been. (if he hadn't been too late.) what version of the king is this?]
Well, old man, I'm not here for you.
no subject
No I'm sorry. Anyway, you're not sure yet. I'm assuming there isn't a major physical difference between pre- and post-, but if there is, he seems to have the features of both.
'...Then what are you here for?'
'There is naught here which you believe in, I thought.' ]
no subject
there is no physical difference, really. what charles is really wondering is who this is—a man who believed he did the right thing or the one who regretted it. and ultimately, it doesn't matter, because this is a FUCKING FAKE.]
I'm here to find my friends. Are you here to get in my way?
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'You must have seen the slaughter on the way here. Destruction follows us both.'
He doesn't answer whether he stands in Charles's way. Sure, he is objectively there, but this is the throne room -- there is no pathway behind him (or rather, in front of him?) to which Charles can proceed. Looks like he's stuck here, talking to a simulacrum of bits of his past, organised into a jumble.
'Blood stains both of our hands, boy. Do you think you're any better?' ]
no subject
anyhow. the accusation does sting, despite what charles would consider fairly thick skin. not because he's distressed at the thought of blood on his hands, because he's long since accepted that. it's as he told throné: "i've killed more than i'd like—and i'd do it again if my home's peace is threatened again." it stings because he believes his father—the real thing, not this insult—would likely be proud of him and what he's accomplished. the complete truth, however, is that he has no way of ever knowing. not with how he and his father parted ways.
he just shrugs, his tone flippant.]
Well, y'know. The old man [and you're not him] tried to have an innocent king assassinated for his plans of world conquest, and I've never done anything like that. So as a matter of fact, I'd say I'm a lot better.
[king riven wasn't a cackling madman. charles still disagrees with the man's decisions, but he can understand why made them. even so...]
Still, you're right. We're both greedy, he and I. Father wanted more land, more power, because he thought that was the only way to secure Riven's stability, and Riven's alone. To that end, he trampled over everyone else.
But as for me, I just can't settle for Riven's happiness, you see. I won't be satisfied with a world where I've only thought of myself—and I fight alongside those who feel the same way.
[because he's greedy for peace, for freedom, for happiness, and more importantly he wants those things for all. he has no interest in ruling the world, when he could instead pursue a path of working with others instead.]
So yes, I'll raise my sword in defence if need be. Should people hate me for it or criticize me, then so be it. If there's anything else I inherited from the old man, it's stubbornness.
no subject
'Yes... I can see that. I suppose you always were stubborn.'
'You cannot see the vision I see, ███████. You lack the mark. To sow new crops, the land must be bared anew -- loss begets growth.'
'Do you think your words of faith and speeches of friendship will save them? Only power stands strong in our world.'
'You cannot save everyone living in an idealist's world.'
'Or will you simply allow others to keep bleeding in your stead?' ]
no subject
[he's seen what happens when someone places that obligation on themselves and truly believes they're meant to. charles will try, of course, but he will never forget that it's simply not realistic.]
But by pursuing power alone, Father almost brought Riven to ruin. Sorry, but I'm not so modest as to not give myself credit for fixing his mistakes.
[his father will be remembered by many as a warmongering king. already, ███████ is known as a king who made history and achieved peace. light of orsterra, hope of the future. his burden, his legacy, his gift to the next generation. he will make sure the world is a better place than the one he inherited from his father.
he points his sword at the king, prepared to attack.]
More blood might be spilled, but I won't disrespect those who stood by what they would fight—and die—for.
[he'll place his own life on the line too, and he'll continue to move forward, living in a way to make the dead proud.]
no subject
'So in the end... you still will not join me.'
There is no disappointment, no relief. Only a distance that feels insurmountable now, a wide chasm. When did the cracks first appear? When did it grow?
Was there ever a point where you could've stopped it, where you could've reconciled?
'I expected as much of you.'
'One day, you will understand.'
The entire castle shakes, a strong tremour under your feet as the ground abruptly splits, dividing Charles from the King. He seems to proceed onward, flicking the blood off his blade as the scenery shifts and changes, as he walks straight back into his war. His bloody campaign tearing apart the land and the people until one day, ultimately --
A crown is a sign of power, but poor protection. It's only so long until the king himself is slain, far away where Charles can't reach him. ]
no subject
such is the unfortunate nature of politics, and what placed the crown on his head years too early. all he can do is live with the guilt of not being able to protect his family.
still, he won't follow his father into despair and death. (even if he might understand, he will not choose the same path.) with that in mind, he turns and leaves.]
(no subject)