Emil

The spire named Thanatos towered atop of a cliffside on the western end of Isarelle. It seemed to stretch to the edge of the skies, overseeing the Black Shoal and the Administrative District with its lengthy ebon shadows. Only the most heinous of criminals in Ardair were kept here. Most of them were infamous Desperados, criminals who were Exalted, but its inmates also included political enemies of the state. All who were imprisoned there were granted life-long sentences.

Emil wasn't exactly a staunch advocate of capital punishment, but even he had to question the practicality of having a prison that only jailed individuals who couldn't leave. Pragmatically speaking, executing them would be far more merciful and economical than letting them rot until a natural death.

As with everything that the elites of Ardair did, it had to do with reputation. Thanatos served as a symbol of the royal family's authority over not just its subjects, but also its unwavering control over the Exalted. Overstep your bounds, disobey the law, and risk permanently having your freedom seized from you. It was a necessary deterrence—a looming presence that lurked in the minds of every Exalted should they ever get too bold.

Not that it stopped Vigil.

What the hell are they planning this time?

Emil thought through gritted teeth as he followed the Courier back down into the Canticle. Despite the early hours of morning, Isarelle's streets were already packed with visitors for the inauguration of the Aurous Festival. Getting across the city on foot was impossible. Even the boat rides on the Isarelle canal had lines that stretched around the block. The sewers were the only part of the city that won't be crowded.

The ambient mana within the Canticle had diminished significantly since last night. The rest of the Lionhearts, Steiger, and Belle associates must have done their part to clean up any lingering Azurite fragments. They were still a few monsters lurking in the depths, but they posed little threat compared to the ones they encountered yesterday. Emil easily took care of them by himself.

"Do we know if Vigil was responsible for the Azurite fragments in the Canticle?" he asked after skewering a couple of monsters with Bulwark.

"No. I'm not privy to what has been interrogated out of the man named Kleine," Ingrid replied with a mechanical tone. Emil tried to pry more details out of the Courier, but she rebuffed him each time with either a "no" or a "I'm not authorized to speak on that."

He clicked his tongue after being stonewalled for the fifth time and chose to remain silent instead. Most Steiger agents were like Ingrid—ridiculously inflexible and a slave to their orders. They were machines with mechanical personalities and little will of their own. The perfect puppets. Emil found their nature pitiful and disgusting.

Still, he couldn't straight up condemn them. The bulk of Steiger's forces were orphans picked up by the organization and then raised into their role based on their personal aptitudes. He could hardly blame them for the environment that they grew up in. Agents like him and Van were unique since they had already developed their egos before they joined Steiger. Petra was likely the same given how normal she was in comparison, but that could have also been because she was selected to be a Fixer which required her to blend into society.

After an hour of non-stop running, Ingrid finally led him to an exit.

The morning sun peeked through the overcast skies. More ominous clouds loomed in the distance—a stark contrast compared to the rambunctious festivities happening in the Isarelle. After a few seconds of getting his bearings, Ingrid explained that they were in the western end of the Black Shoal. Dilapidated buildings worn by age were scattered about. The roads here were rugged and uneven compared to the clean and well-paved street in the other districts. The streets meandered abruptly and ended often without warning. If the winding streets of the Arts District were like a promenade through the forest, the Black Shoal felt like navigating through a ruined labyrinth.

Despite the dreariness of their surroundings, the Aurous Festival celebrations did not stop here. In fact, they felt even livelier. Residents of the Black Shoal filled the streets and the rooftop of buildings, singing songs and playing makeshift instruments. There was a frenzy in the air that veered on desperation. It was raw and primal—the energy intoxicating as though these people were trying to affirm their existences by having as great of a time as they possibly can.

Emil can understand their sentiment. Life in the Black Shoal wasn't too far off from his childhood spent in the Lower Dannan slums. For the commoners, everyday was a struggle to survive. The Aurous Festival was a break from that monotony and provided a respite that allowed everyone, even the orphans and miscreants, to feel human again.

Vigil's appearance haunted the back of his mind as Emil took in these sights. He suddenly felt compelled to protect the sanctity of this joyous occasion.

I won't let them do as they please.

The buildings of the Black Shoal gradually thinned as they neared the outskirts of the city. They soon found himself before a gated outpost. Thick steel walls and spiked barricades fortified the vicinity. Watchtowers flanked both sides of the gates. Guards affiliated with the Lionheart family protected the premise. Each of them radiated the presence of an army. A scowl was permanently etched on their faces as they glared at Emil and Ingrid's approach. On any other day, Emil might have caught himself cowering before their pressure. But Vigil's intrusion on the Academy was still fresh on his mind and his expression darkened at the possibility of another incident.

His face was masked when they reached the gates.

"State your affiliation and purpose!" the guards at the front shouted.

Ingrid and Emil showed the Steiger coin that denoted their affiliation to the organization.

"Miles, Cleaner."

"Ingrid, Courier. Escorting Miles to Thanatos on Branch Manager Graf's instructions," she said, handing over a document with official signed orders.

One of the Lionheart guard scrutinized the paper diligently, injecting a small dose of mana into the sheet. The ink of the Graf's signature and the Steiger insignia glowed with a characteristic pattern that proved its authenticity. Only then did the guard's pressure cease.

"He's waiting inside the fortress. You will be escorted by three of my men. Upon entry into the fortress, you will be asked to remove all weapons and Azurite accessories. These are necessary security protocols for entering Thanatos."

Emil nodded, and the two of them were allowed through the gates. A steep hill was in their way and atop of it was a massive fortress that placed the Sixth Hidden Laboratory to shame. Thanatos loomed behind it, its presence piercing through the ominous clouds. Emil removed the weapons hidden on his body once he was before the security in front of the fortress. A cloud of unease surged in his mind as he reluctantly took off his Azurite pendant. He felt more anxious to part with it than he expected. Ever since he was transformed into an Exalted through the Bestowed Project, he had never taken it off.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

For the first time in years, he felt Ordinary again.

The sensation was immensely uncomfortable. Panic welled up in his chest as he faced his powerless self. He squeezed his fists tight to hide his trembling. It took every ounce of willpower to keep his expression still as he became disconnected from the flow of mana. He personally found the security measures to be draconian, but he can understand the logic behind it.

Thanatos was built to jail the most dangerous of Desperados within the nation. But how do you keep an Exalted who possessed reality-bending powers in one place? The easiest answer was to trap them in an environment devoid of mana. Take away the sources of their power and Exalted became Ordinary.

Graf was waiting for them in the lobby area of fortress when they entered. He had a tense scowl and his eyes were narrowed with stress.

"Ingrid, remain on standby in case I have further orders. Miles, walk with me. We're heading into Thanatos," he ordered. His voice radiated authority like normal, but it lacked power and energy compared to their initial meeting.

"How are you feeling?"

Emil had little personal investment in Graf's wellbeing, but he did want to make sure that the leader of the Isarelle Steiger branch was fit to make decisions in the event of an emergency. A large part of the reason why Vigil was so successful in their raid on the Academy was because of incompetence from those in charge.

"Terrible. The situation in the Canticle is finally stabilizing. House Belle has finally agreed to send additional resources to augment security across the city. And just when everything was back on track, Vigil suddenly decides to show their wretched faces again," Graf muttered. The last statement was uttered with malice. For a moment, Emil felt a flash of bloodlust. But Graf quickly feigned a cough to regain his composure.

"Sorry, I'm on edge. I haven't gotten much sleep lately."

"You should take a—"

"Nap?" Graf scoffed, "I wish. The heavens aren't so kind to allow that. But it's not a problem, the Director trained me to operate a passable capacity for days on end. This is nothing." He suddenly casted a sidelong glance at Emil. "By the way, I know I said you could bring anyone with you to help with the monster extermination. But everyone doesn't really mean everyone."

Emil scratched his head and kept silent. There was nothing he could say to refute Graf's words.

"Your friendship with Her Highness is an asset. But that does not mean you can simply recruit her to do your missions for you. We serve the royal family—not place them in danger."

"The princess was simply looking for a more exhilarating evening experience," he wanted to say, but quickly thought better of it. Graf sounded composed, but the tension on his face looked like he might just snap his head off if he said the wrong words.

An unexpected face suddenly rounded the corner of the corridor. Emil raised his eye for a moment before suppressing his shock. For once, he was glad that he was still masked.

Prince Rory appeared.

"Your Highness," Graf lowered his head. Emil quickly followed.

"No need for formalities, branch manager. There's nothing respectable about me," Rory said, cold with self-condemnation.

"Even so, you are a member of the royal family. I know who I serve," Graf said. Emil felt like the man was shooting daggers at him from his periphery.

Rory sighed, his gaze distant and teeth clenched as though he was reliving bitter memories. After a brief second, he turned away. "Gratitude then, even if I'm unworthy of it."

Emil waited until the second prince was out of earshot before asking his question.

"What's he doing here?"

"Exile from the public eye until enough time has passed. In the meanwhile, he's training here with the Lionhearts so that he won't embarrass the royal family again," Graf explained. A flicker of recognition suddenly gleamed in his dead eyes. "Ah, right. It was you who caused the prince's downfall."

Don't remind me.

He winced. He never put much thought into it, but he really did have a weird and tumultuous relationship with members of the royal family.

"Don't make it sound like I was plotting against him. I didn't make him stab me in the back."

Graf grunted with disdain, but said nothing else.

The hallway of the fortress abruptly broke way into a siloed corridor. Lights dimmed. The sporadic window slits were sealed away. Walls of stone turned into thick plated metal. Torches illuminated the dark interior. The air was suddenly still and silent as though all noises had been drowned by the hostile miasma blanketing the space. Emil inadvertently gulped. It didn't take a genius to know that they were veering on the entrance of Thanatos. Lionheart guards once again were stationed before a massive door.

After confirming Graf's identity and Emil's affiliation, they were allowed through.

The gates slammed behind them with a reverberating thud. He was now inside the towering spire that oversaw Isarelle. Torches lined the halls with walls lacquered in steel. The air felt strangely thin as if there was an important component that was missing. The discomfort scratched at his throat and tugged at his subconscious until he finally realized the discrepancy.

It was the ambient mana.

This space was completely devoid of it.

Emil narrowed his eyes and strained his Exalted senses. For the first time in his life, he found nothing. Not a single vestige of azure or a mote of blue light permeated the area. Not even a haze or a minor reflection. He instinctively tensed. How else could he react if something that he was always surrounded by had suddenly disappeared? It was as though the world had suddenly erased a colour.

Despite its looming presence from the outside, Thanatos's interior was fairly straightforward. Each floor was nearly identical. The stairwells would bring them to a lobby area with two branching paths. One led to the main cellular areas and the other went to living spaces for the guards and staff on duty. The higher floor, the more dangerous the inmate being held.

Ordinaries were usually placed in the lower levels, and here they were mostly composed of political enemies of the royal family. The fourth level and above were all Exalted. The inmates were regularly fed with Archanum, a colourless salt that suppressed the activation of mana within living beings. That, along with the deprivation of mana were the two main mechanisms that allowed this facility to hold dangerous Desperados. Even if an inmate somehow managed to escape the spire, they would have found themselves in a deathtrap. The fortress of the Lionhearts blocked the main escape down the hill. The only other alternative was to descend the cliffside from which Thanatos stood. The steep, inverted slope made it impossible to scale down in an Ordinary's body. The last resort would be a leap of faith, but no sane individual could hope to survive a fall from those heights. Even with a miracle.

Wordlessly, Emil ascended to the top of the spire.

As they neared the final floor, Graf finally spoke.

"This man named Kleine who claimed to the leader of Vigil suddenly appeared near the gates of the fortress. He exchanged a couple of attacks with the Lionhearts. After brutally killing a few of them, he surrendered. Willingly. Without resistance as if his will to fight had been robbed," Graf explained, turning to face him. For the first time since their meeting, Emil saw a hint of fear and uncertainty in the Steiger leader's eyes. "I don't know what's going on, but it's obvious that he and Vigil are planning something. Assuming he really is who he claims to be."

"I've encountered Kleine once during Her Highness's rescue. I've seen his face and we briefly exchanged blows."

Graf nodded. "Good. Then perhaps I'll leave the interrogation to you given your histories. You're a Cleaner, you should know what to ask."

Emil smiled uneasily. He's dumping the job on me again.

The guards on duty waved them in and accompanied them down the corridor of cells. Emil glanced at the inmates jailed in the uppermost floor. All of them looked haggard, thin to the bone, while collared with steel confinements. Nameplates denoting their Exalted monikers were carved beside their cells.

Blighted Artist.

Flesh Devourer.

Deathstrider.

Spirit Alchemist.

The monikers brought out a sickening revulsion in the pits of his stomach. The last time he felt such visceral disgust was in the halls of the Sixth Hidden Laboratory.

These were all legendary Desperados who caused unspeakable horrors within Ardair. Their Gifts were abominations, and their practice of them left devastation in their wake.

Their situations were similar to Aria, the Songstress, where the Gifts that they were bestowed were simply too destructive to be left alone. But while Aria willingly relinquished the right to her Gift, these Exalted refused. The only reason they were allowed to live within Thanatos was so that they could be unleashed again as weapons of mass destruction during wartimes.

At the end of this hall of monsters was a lone man behind a cell. Long white hair draped to his shoulders. A pair of crimson eyes gleamed from a ghastly pale face.

Emil wondered why he was even brought here.

The man's appearance was so striking that it didn't require his presence to confirm.

Kleine raised his head at the sound of their footsteps. As their eyes met, he smiled with the creepy glint of familiarity.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.