home

search

Why lie?

  "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. The pressure in the room seemed to amplify, a chill permeating the air, almost as if the temperature itself obeyed his command.

  "On the Erishkal 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.

  In the dimly lit hall, 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 design was streamlined, lacking the superfluous embellishments of vanity that often adorned the armor of the self-important.

  Instead, it was crafted for movement, with articulated joints that allowed him to maneuver swiftly and with lethal precision. His pauldrons fit snugly, not too wide to hinder his range of motion, yet broad enough to offer the necessary protection.

  The gauntlets, meticulously engraved with patterns that mimicked the fractals of ice, wrapped tightly around his forearms.

  They provided both protection and flexibility, enabling his fingers to wield his long, blackened spear with ease—a spear that seemed to absorb the very light around it, casting an unsettling shadow.

  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 breastplate, reinforced with overlapping layers reminiscent of scales, provided formidable defense against both piercing and slashing attacks. It was crafted to be both strong and light, ensuring it did not encumber his movements.

  His thighs were shielded by a skirt of overlapping metal plates, each segment designed to move fluidly with his stride, allowing him the agility of a seasoned warrior.

  Beneath the armor, he wore a tunic of thick, dark blue fabric that resembled the depths of a shadowed ocean.

  The material, though soft, was treated to be resistant to the elements, adding a layer of warmth against the biting cold that followed him like a lingering ghost.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The tunic's long sleeves peeked out beneath his vambraces, subtly embroidered with silver thread that caught the dim light, twinkling like snowflakes.

  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.

  His features were sharp and angular, his eyes glowing with an unsettling, icy brilliance. The pallor of his skin stood in stark contrast to the dark metal of his armor, enhancing the spectral quality of his presence.

  "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 fa?ade. 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 he had been wearing 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 fa?ade, 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 tower," 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, the weight of his throne and the burdens it carried pressing heavily upon him.

  Bel-ibni raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between his daughter and Lucius. The tension in the room thickens, like ice forming on a still pond. "Lucius," he says, his voice low and measured, "explain yourself. Why dosent Sin-iddin-apli want you to be her guide? in my opinion i think it to be too late to change."

  "long story short, your daughter is in a twisted fantasy, knight and shining armor that type" Lucius says slowly changing his gaze from sid to bel-ibni who looks really confused.

Recommended Popular Novels