Shadow Slave

Gunlaug looked just like the last time Sunny had seen him.

…Like a golden demon born of some harrowing hell.

The Bright Lord was tall and had broad, powerful shoulders. His body was clad in a strange armor that seemed to be made out of molten gold. It was both solid and liquid, flowing over his mightly muscles and covering him from head to toe.

Not even Gunalug’s eyes were exposed.

In the place where his face should have been, there was nothing but a smooth and empty expanse of polished gold. The great hall of the Bright Castle reflected in it, and all the people gathered there did, too.

As soon as Sunny saw the golden mask, he felt the oppressive aura that radiated from the Bright Lord. Even knowing what was going to happen, he couldn’t help but shake a little and bite his lip.

The mind assault of the golden armor was truly hard to endure. Even with the protection of the Puppeteer’s Shroud, he felt it pressing on him, making it hard to breathe. Deep inside, a primal, bestial fear was clawing at his heart.

But this fear did not belong to him. It was fake. With a dark grimace, Sunny strangled it and made it disappear.

Walking out of the darkness of the alcove like a golden apparition, Gunlaug glanced at the mass of people below him and sat on the throne. His pose was relaxed and casual, as though he was here to leisurely resolve a trivial matter, not decide someone’s fate.

Hundreds of fates, perhaps.

However, despite his laid-back attitude, everyone gathered in the great hall swayed a little, pressed down to the ground by the incredible force of his presence.

The Bright Lord lingered for a few moments, and then said, his serpentine voice full of mirth:

“Ah, what a sight. All my precious wards gathered here, united in the desire to see justice prevail. This dedication, this fervor for the rule of law… oh, it just makes my blood boil with appreciation. Don’t you think it’s wonderful?”

He laughed and turned his head slightly, peering directly at Nephis. She lowered her head a bit, an almost imperceptible tremor running through her body. To Sunny, though, it seemed as though the plates of marble beneath her feet were about to crack from the terrifying pressure of Gunlaug’s gaze.

Nevertheless, she endured it without showing much of the tremendous strain she was under.

The Bright Lord paused and then echoed his words, a note of some dark emotion finding its way into his voice:

“Don’t you think it’s wonderful, Changing Star of the Immortal Flame clan?”

Nephis greeted her teeth, struggling to remain steady under the psychic onslaught of the golden armor. When she finally answered, her voice sounded suppressed:

“…Indeed.”

Gunalug remained silent for a bit. Although his face was hidden behind the golden mask, Sunny had a feeling that he was smiling.

Finally, he spoke:

“How nice. Somehow, I was under the impression that you would disagree. I’ve been told by my most loyal aids that you are a disagreeable person. I guess you just can’t trust anyone these days.”

With that, he glanced at his lieutenants, making them pale and shiver.

Sunny shivered, too. The message hidden in those words was clear: Gunlaug was letting Nephis know that he had known that she had a spy among the highest ranks of his people all along.

And didn’t care. Maybe even silently allowed it to happen.

‘Damnation…’

How much did he know?

Finally, the Bright Lord looked at Effie. After a few seconds had passed in tense silence, he spoke to her with a hint of sadness:

“We meet again, Effie. What a shame that it is in these tragic circumstances. If only you had listened to me and joined the Host… perhaps then you might not have fallen so low. Such pity…”

He shook his head and sighed.

“I had high hopes for you. But, alas… murdering innocent humans is not something that can be forgiven. Look at yourself! Instead of a noble Hunter, you have turned into a wild beast. But that is what happens when people refuse my grace. They become no better than Nightmare Creatures.”

His somber words echoed in the silence of the great hall, making people lower their gazes.

Effie trembled, pressed down by the force of his undivided attention. But then, she grinned and answered, her raspy voice sounding relaxed and carefree.

She only said two words:

“Fuck off.”

Gunlaug laughed and raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

“I rest my case. You all see how unrepentant this vile murderer is. There’s not a drop of remorse left in her corrupted, rotten soul. That is why, with a heavy heart, I have to sentence this once-promising young woman to death. She has to answer for her crimes, and leaving her alive would put you, my wards, in danger. I am left with no choice.”

A hum of voices rose from the crowd. Slum dweller or an inhabitant of the Castle, everyone was affected by his last words:

“Don’t you dare, bastard!”

“Kill that murderer!”

“Effie! We’re here!”

“Make her pay!”

“Lady Nephis! You can’t let them!”

“Kill her!”

“Kill all of them!”

Unaffected by this outburst of boiling emotions, Nephis put a hand on Effie’s shoulder and looked at the Bright Lord with a cold expression. Staring directly at the golden mask, she frowned and said, her voice clear and loud:

“I object.”

The storm of voices suddenly grew quiet. Everyone turned to her, two kinds of expectation hiding in their eyes.

One was full of hope. The other full of vicious glee.

Gunlaug tilted his head.

“Object? What do you mean? Her guilt has been proven without any room left for doubt. There is nothing you can do to change the outcome.”

He paused for a moment and then suddenly leaned forward, his insidious voice washing over the great hall like a wave:

“Well. Unless, of course…”

Changing Star looked at him with dark resolve and lowered her chin stubbornly.

Then, she said:

“I want to invoke the right of challenge.”