An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege-Chapter 26: Maesta...

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Krael sat in a horse-drawn carriage pulled by an exceptional breed of steeds—so rare they were considered precious.

These particular ones were called the 'Hell Mounts.' Some say that they had the lineage of the ancient hells just because of the ominous aura they had, but while they were rare, many with the ability to obtain them did not use them just because they were a lot to maintain and keep; besides, controlling them was even harder, and yet here they were, being used to pull the carriage of a lowly Count.

These horses bore coats of deep ruby, etched with black markings that looked like they were used to hold ancient records many could not even begin to understand. Their black manes were full and flowing with a hidden crimson that would alight like embers, and their bodies were packed with dense muscle, making them all the more magnificent. They were far larger than the average beast, towering over the count's carriage with an almost regal presence.

His carriage was crafted from dense black wood, fused with gleaming silver that shone like stars against the midnight sky. The body was sleek and finely articulated, and its windows of dark glass were etched with gold and lavender.

Dressed in midnight-blue robes, Krael sat composed, his form immaculate, his aura neat. He appeared at peace, his expression unreadable, but his thoughts swirled—there was much to consider.

The Academy and the future that awaited him there.

The matter of producing enough food to barely meet the quota required by the Academy.

And then, the elephant in the room—dealing with him, the entity that had woven plans around him like an inescapable web.

Not to mention the conditions of his awakening, which he doubted would be anything but simple.

Yet, as the carriage slowly descended from his estate and entered the town, he forced these thoughts to the back of his mind, turning his attention to his people.

Some searched desperately for loved ones lost to the horrors of the past year. Others clutched the cold corpses of those they had once shared meals with. There were those scavenging for anything salvageable, while a handful attempted to restore order amidst the ruin.

Temple nuns moved among them, tending to the wounded and purifying the dead for burial. Others labored to repair the county, restoring what had been damaged before the festivities began.

Those who mourned were given ten days to grieve and bury their dead. Those who had no family to claim them were taken by the temple.

For once the ten days had passed, all of Astrea was expected to cast aside their sorrow and embrace joy—whether they liked it or not.

To worship the Great Diearch, sorrow must never be shown. The festivities were held to thank him for prosperity, and grief had no place within them.

Krael's voice broke the silence. "What do you think, Adler?" He addressed his butler, who was manning the horses.

Though he spoke as if Adler sat beside him, the distance was too great for such a casual tone to be heard.

Yet, Adler replied just as easily, his voice carrying as though he were right next to the count. His tone was as smooth and deep as ever.

"I do not understand what you mean, young master."

Krael's gaze never left the road as trees passed by, lining his estate like a second shield.

"I mean, what do you think of how the mourning are not even allowed to mourn? Forced to wear fake joy, all so they can worship a being who merely watched as the darkness took everything they held dear?"

"Young master, if I am to be honest—"

There was a flicker in Krael's eyes as he noted the butler's tone.

"Why do you say such a thing, Adler?"

"If they truly wanted the right to grieve longer, they would never have allowed their loved ones to die in the first place."

Krael's fingers tightened around the fabric of his robe.

"They should have been stronger—strong enough to ensure the safety of those they loved."

"Weakness has always been a sin. If you are weak, you have no right to call the world unfair."

"Fight the world first. Gather the courage to stand above it all. Only then do you earn the right to call it unjust."

Adler spoke without hesitation as if the words had nothing to do with the young master at all.

To Krael, it was an insult sharper than any blade.

To Adler, however, it was a simple truth.

He had never considered the young master weak. Perhaps stubborn. Perhaps arrogant.

But never weak.

All his young master needed was to see—to understand reality for what it was. To awaken the will to use any and all means to rise to the top. Because if one did not stand at the top, their life would forever be dictated by those who did.

That was the fate of the commoners. Because they lacked bloodlines and lineage and lacked easy access to awakening in Aether, they were forever at the mercy of those who stood above them.

Forever Mortals, in the hands of those that transcended Mortality

And if the day ever came when they no longer accepted this cycle—when they changed the way things played out every time the Surge began—then they would have no reason to mourn at all.

And if it ever came down to it, where they had no choice but to mourn, for life had always been a fickle thing. Then they would mourn all they wanted without the time constraints because then they would be powerful enough to fight for what they wanted.

After Adler's response, Krael remained silent, his gaze darkening as his thoughts churned deeper and deeper.

He watched his people lick their wounds like beaten dogs, and if not for Adler's intervention all year long, many more would have died.

Many did not dare to come out of where they hid for a full year's worth of time, simply waiting for it all to blow over, in the chance they would survive it all.

Yet here they were, crying about it.

And though Adler's words had been harsh, they had been true.

None of them would be mourning if they had the power to protect themselves. Even if the loss had been inevitable, they would not have felt compelled to hide their sorrow and pretend to be happy.

A slow disdain began to take root in Krael's heart.