The Ghost of Vermil-Chapter 19: Marco XIII

A letter from the Vermilon Palace had arrived. His mother's tone was seething and untethered even in writing. She expressed deep concern about the incident in the Ashwood Forest, mentioning the grief that the families of the departed were going through. At some point, she scorned his decision to have continued on the Pilgrim Road given the gravity of the situation. At the latter half, she reminded him again of their agreements even though 'You won't take these words to heart,' she wrote. Do not fall into in the assumption that that thing cares for you like you care for it. Never trust it.

He could almost feel the weight of her hand as she pressed the quill on paper angrily. Write back, as soon as you receive this, she ended. He sighed, stashing the letter into a drawer.

The chamber provided to him was more spacious and better furnished than most. A balcony overlooked the sprawling Academy grounds. Marco would sit there sometimes if he fancied the sight of trees as students jogged beneath. Only heirs to the crown or earldoms were given such privilege.

As he stared in the mirror, he pinned the badge that flickered with the number 3 on the chest of his blue vest. He cocked his head, studying the long scar on his cheek. It had been once a deep gash, but not as deep as the wound of a knight named Ser Harol who passed crossing the Ashwood Forest.

His classmates used to ask him about the scar. "An accident," he would lie. "I was a pretty reckless kid."

New novel 𝓬hapters are published on freёwebnoѵel.com.

Perhaps it was true of him now. He still did not know whether he was making the right decisions or the stupid ones. Marco kept every strange detail about his little brother in a small booklet titled 'Herbs'. Sketches of shrubs and leafed plants populated the first few pages but along the center pages he had scribbled:

Father Pietro's death.

Lying about a companion when he visited Father Pietro.

Lying about the companion in his room. This one bogged Marco the most. Yet he had not seen it again.

Lumen Veritatis could not judge the truthfulness of Lucas's words when asked if he killed Father Pietro or not.

Someone intended to delay us in the Ashwood Forest.

He was the sole survivor in the incident in Ashwood Forest.

Something else killed his escorts before the cursed wolves came. Alice's body is missing. If she's alive, she would know something.

Ser Harol said, "He's... demon... kill."

They all have deep gashes like the scratches in Lucas's house.

Lucas touched the dead wolves at Cobalt Passing. Then they returned as cursed beasts.

Lucas cannot remember the ambush in the Forest at all.

The Star of Michael did not light upon contact with Lucas. Instead, it shattered.

Does not want to be healed with holy power.

He had drawn lines over them to show their relations, encircling some to denote them as raw facts instead of assumptions.

Today, Marco laid the booklet open and wrote a new line. Can defeat a cursed tumbleweed that absorbed a demon's blood. He encircled it.

"Is some entity following you?" Marco said with furrowed brows. "But why are you not asking me for help to eliminate it? Perhaps... are you not aware..."

Marco found Catherine Ashwood in the cafeteria. She sipped on a cup of coffee as she pored over a newspaper, legs crossed.

"Apparently, the Holy Army had reclaimed a watershed territory in East Bismuth," she shared to him without looking up. "How are you, my sweet lord?"

He set his own tray of cheese, bread and bacon next to hers. "Well, every Crusade starts with small victories because the demon was caught off guard. But then when the opponent strikes back, the army falters and it goes downhill from there."

"Is it true, though, that there are more than ten demons in Atamar now? What do you think? An intellectual should assume so."

"No living soul has been to Atamar since the day it had fallen. It's better to expect the worst, yes. But to publish an unverified theory on paper, that's just fear-mongering."

She put the paper down and stabbed at her bread with the fork. "This whole Crusade feels so Sisyphean. We push the hive back then it sweeps us back, farther than before. If only some angels would help. But I understand, if they fight, they must fight for victory or else it will take more than a century for them to recover their full strength."

Two known angels had fallen so far. Michael and Uriel. Michael disappeared during the First Crusade. Uriel, on the other hand, had gone into hiding after losing most of his power during the third attempt where no one came back alive. With his downfall, the Order of Uriel also lost influence. Most of their members had shifted to the other Orders. The only reason the Michaelic Order still had the largest hold on Araya was solely because of the Royal Family.

"Why did you only come today?" Marco asked. "I didn't see you in the welcome feast."

"It has come to the attention of my house that some lord was near gutted by cursed wolves in the Ashwood Forest. So, I couldn't leave the mansion until it was certain that no cursed beasts were prowling in our territory anymore."

"It was an ambush," he said.

"And a knight lost his life along with a few escorts. Can cursed wolves accomplish that?"

"Perhaps. But did they find anything in the Forest? I suggested to scour the whole of Ashwood Forest for any lingering curses or cursed beings."

"Curses? " Her brows furrowed. She looked straight into his eyes, the giant blue tint of her iris reflecting him. "The Earl's messenger reported cursed beasts. Is there anything else we should know about?"

That the demon could either be in Gallagher or here with us. Marco kept those suspicions to himself.

"Unrelated to that, did you know Lucas got in? In Ordination class, imagine that."

"Really? Good for him. But how did he make it to Divine Ordination without holy power?"

"I want to tell you, but we'll be late for Artifact Studies."

The whole of their morning was spent on Immediate Artifact Studies wherein one student after another were supposed to present about renowned artifacts of their interest. More merit points were given if the materials discussed were well researched, twice if they were new and verified information. For their first day, Professor Allyra let a senior take the dais to demonstrate.

"What I wanted to humour your curiosity with is the Trinity of Justice," the senior named Lance began, writing the name of the artifact on top. "Consisting of the Cage of the Tribunal, the Scales of Retribution and the Shield of Virtue. They were bestowed to the Royal Family as heirlooms by the angel Michael to ensure Araya was governed with fairness and accountability. You might think they operate as a set, but they do not. Although it is believed they could have some effect when used together, we might never know because the Shield of Virtue was stolen more than a decade ago. Regardless..."

Marco listened intently. What interested him the most was that the Trinity of Justice came directly from Michael himself, which meant these artifacts had the most remnant of the angel's holy power. If used properly, one could use them to trace the location of the angel.

These artifacts were not powerful on their own, after all they were not weapons of war but tools of rule.

The three differed in appearance. The Cage of the Tribunal was a triangle necklace that could summon a prison wherein no one but an angel could interfere until the user had exacted their justice.

The Scales of Retribution was a staff topped with a miniature gold figure of a woman holding two scales, all enveloped by a halo. It had the power to mete out punishment as pain equal to the gravity of crime committed. In severe cases, it was said to have taken lives.

On the other hand, the Shield of Virtue was rumoured to grant defence against demonic possession as long as the user remained true to a particular virtue of their choice — which if broken would render the shield ineffective.

"The staff is currently used by the King, while the necklace is something that could be borrowed with a price," the senior concluded. "The shield was said to be in a form of a branding iron that could be used to mark anyone who wanted the protection of the Shield."

"The entire Royal Family must have been branded with the shield then?" Catherine said, raising her hand with the veneer of timidity.

"Indeed, the records state as such. Every royal born before the Shield's theft were marked as soon as they were able to discern what is right and wrong." Lance said.

She followed with another question? "Are their marks still present?"

Lance stiffened. "Unfortunately, to ask or answer that question is tantamount to insulting the Royal Family."

"I apologize, I am shamelessly inquisitive," she said, bashful.

"The curiosity is much appreciated and encouraged, but I am in no position to indulge it. My apologies," Lance replied. "Are there any other questions? I will answer to the best I can."

"How does one borrow the Cage of Tribunal?" It was Marco who spoke.

During lunchtime, the sight of his brother on a table with three other students softened Marco's sullen countenance. Despite all the dread pooling in his heart, for a moment he felt at peace with his decisions. He wanted to drop by and meet them, but he feared intruding on Lucas's company.

"He's doing well, I see," Cat commented behind him. "Now, move. You're in the way."

Two more of his classmates joined his company.

A boy named Oliver spoke as he ate, spilling some beans, "How was your break? Did you attend the feast? I've met some good looking freshies."

"You should work on your hairstyle first," Cat said, pulling away her tray, wary of his droppings touching her meal.

"What's wrong with my hairstyle?"

Marco's fork stopped halfway to his lips. He looked at the poor state of his friend and said, "It's a crow's nest, Oliver."

"But it's natural to me. And I look good with it. My mother told me so," he said, adamant in his outlook.

"The angels bless you then," Cat rolled her eyes, sipping mushroom soup.

Seeing his friend's confidence crumbling, the other boy named Kelvin rerouted the conversation, uttering, "Hey, did you hear about the Zayin class?"

Marco's head perked up.

Kelvin went on, having their curiosities piqued, "Apparently he doesn't have holy power, but he got in in Ordination. That's a bit suspicious, isn't it?"

Marco went on eating, hiding his undue interest. He said, "What's so suspicious?"

"I mean, a professor can obviously recommend someone," Kelvin shrugged, "But bringing in a student without talent, Demach does not deserve that. I heard the director is looking into it."

Marco's fork dropped. "On what grounds? Why would the director get involved?"

"Well, some freshmen do not like it. They've filed a complaint, I think. If I were in their shoes, it would feel obviously unfair to me too. They had to risk their lives fighting in the Henge Field, as you know."

When the bell rang for the afternoon period, Marco's mind was in the swells again.

"...Mr. Vermilon. Mr. Vermilon!"

Marco was shaken back to reality by the disgruntled voice of Professor Turington — a barrel of a man whose humble origins made him haughty and intolerant of any hint of impertinence.

"I am sorry, Professor, I did not catch the question," he apologized.

"I hate repeating myself." Turington clasped his hands behind him and met his gaze coldly.

"The soul," Oliver murmured beside him, covering his mouth.

"I heard that." Turington's head pivoted to Oliver's direction, startling the boy into silence.

"I wasn't paying attention, Professor, I recognize my mistake and would like to ask for your forgiveness," Marco admitted, bowing just slightly.

"Do you know what this class is about?" He stood taller after puffing his chest.

"Power Strengthening, Professor," Marco answered curtly.

"Now, I'll demonstrate the difference between those who had strengthened their holy power and those who need to. But I will need a volunteer. Can I ask for your participation, Mr. Marco Vermilon?" Turington eyed the number on Marco's badge.

He wants to humiliate me.

"It will be my pleasure," he replied.