Chapter 3: The Bookkeeper and the Enforcer

  Five days had passed since the hooded man came to speak of Moore’s execution. The day had finally arrived, but a letter arrived in the morning mail, bearing Moore’s familiar handwriting.

  Dear friend,

  I hope this letter finds you well. I write because, of all the Fallen members, I know you alone struggle with the decree on my life. Before you go through with the tragic act of writing my name in the Book, I would like to meet. I want to explain why I am doing this, for I truly believe this path will bring freedom to the people of the Fallen. We have lived this way far too long, bound by laws and roles forced upon us. Meet me at the Cathedral, in the confession booth, at 9 a.m. sharp.

  —Moore

  As I finished reading, I slipped the letter into my inner coat pocket. I turned to find Morbius standing in the doorway, his usual silent entrance catching me off guard.

  “Was I interrupting something, my lord?” he asked, red eyes fixed on me with that piercing gaze. I cleared my throat quickly, schooling my features.

  “No, nothing of importance. Just an old letter.” I could feel his suspicion but hoped he wouldn’t press further.

  He exhaled, pausing just long enough for my nerves to fray, before finally saying, “In any case, the carriage you requested for the cathedral is ready. Though, I must ask—why not take the hidden tunnels?”

  I met his gaze, careful to keep my expression neutral. “To avoid Justus. He’s still angry over Moore’s defection, and I’d rather not provoke him.”

  Morbius sighed, moving to straighten my collar, his fingers cold and steady. “That logic is tenuous at best, Marquette. Justus oversees every cathedral in the kingdom and can teleport between them effortlessly. But if that’s your choice, I’ll not question it further.”

  He finished fixing my collar, lingering for a moment before he led me down to the carriage waiting outside. The carriage was old and unassuming, worn from generations of service. As I climbed in, I caught a faint whiff of age and dust that clung to the woodwork, a reminder of my family’s lineage. Morbius climbed in beside me, his red eyes never leaving my face as the driver set us on our way.

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  As we rolled through the crowded streets of Lian Yu, hostility greeted us at every corner. Rotten tomatoes and vegetables splattered against the carriage windows, accompanied by angry shouts from the townspeople.

  “I can’t believe that demon is still allowed in our land!”

  “Our king must be mad, letting nobles like these roam free!”

  Morbius watched the scene impassively, his voice as cold as ever. “I’m surprised they’ve clung to their hatred for this long.”

  I looked over at him, a grim smile on my face. “You know better than most, Morbius—hate like this can last generations. You were there at the beginning, when the Fallen first formed. It’s a hate that’s festered and grown, regardless of who inherits it.”

  He looked out the window, his tone softer than I’d ever heard. “True. But after all this time, you would think it might lessen, even if only slightly, with each passing generation.”

  I chuckled to myself. “I didn’t know you held such hope, Morbius.”

  Before he could respond, the driver’s voice called out, announcing our arrival. Morbius opened the door, and as I stepped out, he leaned in close.

  “I’ll be waiting here, my lord. Call when you’re ready to depart.”

  The cathedral loomed before me, magnificent and intimidating, its structure adorned with gold and diamond accents that glistened under the sun. I made my way down the aisle, feeling the weight of the place press down on me, a constant reminder of duty. Finally, I reached the confession booth and entered, letting the silence settle around me. After a brief prayer, I heard the faint creak of the sliding door.

  Moore sat opposite me, his face obscured in shadow. Only a glint of light revealed his light brown eyes and the faint scar above his left brow, confirming his identity.

  “How was the ride here, my friend?” His voice was calm, almost nostalgic.

  I replied, my tone tinged with sarcasm, “Oh, the usual—a cheering crowd throwing gifts at my carriage.”

  He chuckled softly. “So, things are still that bad.”

  “Enough with the pleasantries, Moore. What is all of this? You, leaving the Fallen, ascending to the throne…” My voice trailed off, frustration clear.

  Moore took a long breath. “You’re still the same, Marquette—straight to the point. Very well. The reason I took the throne… is for the future.”

  My hands clenched, and I hit the side of the booth in anger. “The future? We are the future, Moore. The Fallen is the future. We are the past and the present of this kingdom, and you know that better than anyone.”

  Moore laughed, but there was no humor in it. “How can you say that? How can you believe in a future where none of us has a choice? Our children, their children—they’re all bound by the same rules, the same roles forced upon us by the Book and the Fallen. We’re little more than ghosts in our own kingdom, Marquette. Do you honestly think our ancestors wanted this?”

  His words struck a nerve, stirring a feeling I’d long buried. I had always questioned the path we were on, the weight of an oath that felt more like a curse. But duty—tradition—had silenced that doubt.

  “It’s not that simple, Moore. I have a responsibility to uphold. I swore an oath.”

  He sighed, the weight of his decision evident in his voice. “It’s because of your position, Marquette, that I hoped you’d understand. You, the Keeper of the Book, and I, the Enforcer of the Fallen—no one knows these burdens like we do. But something inside me finally broke. The killing, the control, the shame cast upon us for the deeds of our ancestors—it all became too much. So I’m putting a plan in motion, a plan to dismantle the monarchy and free our families once and for all.”

  I stared at him, a mixture of horror and disbelief coloring my thoughts. “You’re insane, Moore. Do you have any idea what they’ll do to you if you try to go through with this?”

  He took a deep breath, his resolve unwavering. “I do. And it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I only ask that you consider joining me. If you choose not to, I understand. But when the time comes, know that I will not hold back.”

  With that, Moore donned a mask, the thin strip of cloth casting his face into shadow once more. He slipped out of the booth, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the realization that the weight of my decision would soon come crashing down.