~Interlude 4~

~1159~

~Seven years prior~

Days after the ritual, Denile was able to witness his own funeral. They buried him with past kings, and he heard the words of appreciation the citizens had for him.

Commander Ein never shed a tear, of course. A man as strong as him would never do such a thing. But he took every opportunity he could to remind the court of what a great friend King Denile was.

After all had been said, Whedon was crowned the new King.

When Whedon was alone, he and Denile would take turns speaking through their shared body. Whedon allowed him to have brief stints of control so he could simply feel what it was like to truly have a young body again.

"I wish we could tell the others. But they wouldn't understand," Whedon pondered.

Denile took control and spoke, "They might think you insane. But perhaps one day, we can tell them."

Whedon smiled to himself, "I've always worried what I'd do without you. How I'd lead this city on my own. It's relieving to know I won't have to."

"We've been given a gift. Together, we can make this city the greatest in the world. I see no reason why it would have to end in your lifetime either."

"What do you mean?"

"When you grow old like I did, we can have those monks perform that ritual again. Perhaps Norton will be able to help us. When his time comes, he won't have to act as King on his own either. He'll have us to help him," Denile voiced his aspirations.

"...We could go on forever."

For a few days, all was well. Whedon slid into his new role as King quite comfortably, knowing his father would be there.

Denile was slightly perturbed by the fact that many of his closest confidants were moving beyond his death. Besides Ein, they did not appear to grieve anymore. Perhaps they were only putting on a strong face, or maybe now that he was 'dead', he didn't really matter to them.

But it didn't bother him much. He'd surpassed a single life and could live forever. What people thought of him when he was alive was inconsequential now.

But one day, during one of the many kingly meetings, he started to feel... faint. Whedon was fine; he showed no sign of noticing. But Denile's essence felt somehow weaker. He didn't understand why.

It terrified him. After having a grasp at eternal life, it felt as though his tether to this world was now shaken. Denile had no idea what to do.

He felt relieved when the monk Felli came for an audience with the King. The bald man knelt before Whedon's throne before rising.

"Nice to see you again, my King," Felli greeted.

"You as well... Where is the leader of the Hall of the Dead? Where is Barja?"

Felli feigned a glum expression, "She passed mere days after Denile. I've taken her place since then."

Whedon knew that was not true but played along, "I'm sad to hear that."

Felli drew a thin book from his robes, "It's a modest offering, but I thought I'd present this to you, my King. As a gift to your new reign."

"Thank you very much," Whedon said. He motioned to one of his servants, who then retrieved it from Felli. The book was nothing special; just another copy of the history of their city. They already had countless copies of this book in their library. But he doubted that this gift was so simple.

"I'd check page 96 later if I were you. I think you'll find it enlightening," Felli said before departing.

Whedon thumbed through the book before coming to page 96... a seemingly blank page. But later, when he looked at it in a dark room under candlelight, he saw the secret message Felli had left him.

Meet us at this address alone at midnight.

Whedon and Denile's shared body snuck out of the castle late that night through one of the underground passages, dressed in commoner's robes. All the while, Denile felt even more faint.

They came to a home in the inner ring where a rather hulking man stood at the entrance. He looked up, and they saw the man had bright amber eyes.

"Come with me," The 'man' whispered, escorting them through the city to a second location. They found another house in an alleyway which the hulking man entered.

Whedon's heartbeat quickened, and he stopped before entering the house. But Denile seized control and had them walk inside.

Under candlelight, they found Felli waiting patiently at a table, a glimmer in his eye as they entered, "I'm glad you came."

"What's happening to me?" Denile asked.

Felli raised his eyebrow, "Is Denile still lingering inside your body, Whedon? I thought for sure he would've transferred himself to another vessel by now."

Denile slammed their fists on the table, "What is happening to me!?"

"Your essence is fading because you haven't paid tribute."

"Tribute?"

Felli raised a finger gently, "Do not worry. We'll show you how."

The monk stood from the table with a candle in hand and began descending a staircase behind him. The hulking man followed.

"Barja... Is that you in there?"

The hulking man turned and gave a familiar soft smile, "After seeing the ritual done to you, I was eager to transcend as well."

"Who is that you're in?"

"A blacksmith. His consciousness is asleep, so I have absolute control over his vessel for now. He won't have any recollection of what I do."

At the bottom of the stairs was a metal door that Felli had to unlock. He gestured them to enter the basement. Denile could feel Whedon growing more anxious when Felli locked the door behind them.

Across from them was a second metal door. Felli began to unlock this second door and warned, "Brace yourself for what you're about to see."

Felli parted the door. From behind it, they heard a struggling woman's voice. Both Whedon and Denile stopped in place, but Barja nudged them forward into the room.

There was a woman in tattered clothing on a bed, with her wrists and ankles tied to the four ends. Several deep cuts were carved into her flesh. As they entered the room, she panicked and struggled immensely to break from her binds. But a glint of hope came to her eyes when she saw the King.

"King Whedon! Please help me!" The woman said, nearly crying, "These men have kept me here and have been cutting me... please don't let them do it again!"

Both Whedon and Denile were silent. That hope that was in the woman's eyes began to dim.

"My King?" She pleaded.

"Wha-What're you doing with this woman?" Whedon quivered.

"The Mark of the Master must be carved into living flesh as tribute," Felli answered, "The Master has offered you and Barja a gateway to immortality. The only price is to leave his mark."

"This... is wrong!" Whedon said.

"You've felt your essence fading, haven't you, Denile? As if all you are could vanish at any moment. If you don't do this, then you will."

Denile couldn't deny it. Every moment, it felt as though his presence was waning. At first, when he looked at the woman, he saw a victim, a steward of his city that needed to be saved... now he saw her as a path to keep living.

Whedon spoke, "You're deranged! I'm going to contact the Kingsguard and report this immediatel-."

Whedon's body suddenly became stiff. He tried to walk out, but something kept him there. His father. The body they shared became stiff and rigid as each of them tried to enact their will over their shared vessel. As they wrestled for control, Felli and Barja began to smile.

"F-Father, s-stop," Whedon spluttered.

Denile could feel himself overpowering Whedon. His son was weak-willed. Denile grew up in a time where he had to lead soldiers and defend his land, while Whedon grew up in the cozy aftermath. He didn't have the same willpower that he did or the ability to do what must be done.

Whedon did all that he could, but soon Denile wielded complete control over his body. There were pitiful bouts of resistance from Whedon that manifested as twitches. But it didn't matter; Denile was in command.

Denile reached out to Felli, "How do I make this mark?"

Felli drew a knife and the book he carried before from his robes. He opened to a page that had the mark in all its glory. The symbol of a diamond with two half circles at the ends and a line drawn through.

"Cut this into her exactly. You'll know if you've done it correctly. Be careful not to kill her; we want to keep her alive for as long as possible," Felli stated calmly, terrifying the imprisoned woman.

Denile inspected the mark, took the knife in hand, and went to work.

The screams and sobbing didn't escape the room they were in; it was what those hefty metal doors were for. She begged for him to stop, but after completing his first mark, Denile felt a surge of gratification and relief. He was no longer fading. In fact, he felt even more powerful than ever. After that, her screams fell on deaf ears. With each completed mark, he felt his essence become stronger.

He would've kept going until the girl was dead if Felli hadn't stopped him and pulled him out of the room.

"Now don't get carried away..." Felli advised, locking the door behind them, muting the woman's pained sobs. "I'll dress her wounds later."

Denile looked at his blood-covered hands and dropped the knife. He should've been disgusted with himself... but he wasn't.

"You took to it rather quickly," Barja praised through the blacksmith she resided in. She passed him a rag.

Denile cleaned off his bloodied hands with the rag, "So, will I be fine now? Is my essence safe?"

"For now. If you go on too long without leaving the mark, you'll start to fade again. Which is why we want to keep this woman alive for as long as we can."

Denile leaned against the basement's walls, "And after that?"

"Then we'll dispose of the body, cover our tracks here, and look for another we can detain and use for tribute. We try to choose people who few care for," Barja explained, "We'll have to find another safehouse to use too. We're 'borrowing' that woman's home for now."

Denile interlocked his fingers and thought for a moment. Deep within him, he could sense Whedon screaming out in disapproval, but Denile managed to push aside his thoughts.

"This isn't a very good process, is it?"

"It's what we've been able to manage. It's not ideal," Barja replied, "A few years ago, when Tradon was a spirit, one of his detained tributes escaped. It led to the case with Urba Dolor. We've been looking for a better way."

"Tradon was the leader of the Hall of the Dead before you... you said when he was a spirit."

"He and his vessel were killed. If your vessel dies before you manage to transfer to a new one, you'll die along with them," Felli explained.

"Tradon was possessing Horace at the time?"

"Correct."

Denile nodded to himself. It was clear what happened in the Urba Dolor case now... and why these monks came to save him in the first place. "You need my resources to create a safehouse for you."

"And for yourself. If you can provide the safehouse, we'll provide the tributes."

Denile smirked, "There are underground tunnels beneath the castle. I'm sure that those can be expanded. Perhaps, we could even link it to your Hall of the Dead."

"That would be... very helpful. But it must remain secret."

"Of course."

"And Whedon... he was prepared to tell everyone. You must keep him quiet," Felli urged.

"My son's will is weak. As soon as I was determined to take control, I did. I am King Whedon now."