Lord Of The Mysteries: A Slug of Time

"You seem to be in some deep thought?"

A cheery, colourful voice echoed aloud, a striking dismay to the monotone and damp atmosphere that clung around Morgane like mold. She blinked slowly, her eyes landing on the wandering magician who so loved to call her his apprentice.

He was sitting with his back against the rough brick wall, one leg stretched out with just enough bend for Morgane to lie across it. His other leg was awkwardly folded and jammed between them, so much so that his foot was uncomfortably brushing up against her crotch. Morgane simply reached down and gripped his leg firmly with her left hand to stop him from moving.

As for Morgane herself, one of her legs was resting along his body, foot pressed against the wall right beside his head. The other was folded close, her knee nudging his stomach, though not hard enough to actually hurt him.

The whole setup was... not ideal to say the least.

Merlin's hat, adorned with beautiful red feathers, had ended up resting on her folded leg like it belonged there. His calm maintained and his facial expression looked perfectly at ease despite how cramped and uncomfortable their current predicament was. Moments like these made Morgane genuinely wonder what went on in his head.

Her thoughts drifted back to his earlier question.

"I'm wondering how we even got here," she muttered.

Right now, Morgane and Merlin, the Knight and the Wandering Magician, were stuffed inside a jail cell smaller than a dressing room, definitely only meant for one person. From what Morgane could tell, they were probably thirty to forty-five meters underground. Outside their cell laid a narrow corridor made of the same old bricks, slightly wider in proportions than the cell itself. A couple of torches were fixed to the walls casting the fleeting illumination that didn't do much to erase the gloom.

"Sometimes things just happen, and you have to let them be," Merlin chirped back, tapping a few fingers gently on her relatively thick thigh. Morgane raised a brow, her lips twitching. This mess was partly thanks to one of Merlin's bright ideas... and partly because she hadn't stopped him.

A Fool's troupe...

Then, without meaning to, a series of memories began to resurface in her mind.

…

[A few hours ago]

"Is that it?" Morgane lifted her hand and pointed toward the hazy outline of a distant settlement. From their vantage, sprawled across the horizon lay a massive city one that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. "How did it get so big?"

"It's just as "He" said. This city grows by the day. As "They" seize control over more and more human settlements." Merlin stood beside her, one hand tucked neatly into the pocket of his black robe, the other tipping his classic hat adorned with red feathers. A small, amused smile tugged at his lips, while his gaze calm and serene took in the sight of the kingdom laid ahead of them with great interest. 

"We should approach and observe quietly for the time being. The kingdom may be massive, but it's not like we're in any rush." Merlin suggested this with a mildly calm tone that felt far too reasonable. Morgane blinked slowly. A thought churned in her head. Quiet and sensible approach… Who are you, and what have you done with my Merlin…?

She suspiciously gazed at the mischievous magician watching intently for signs of possession or imposter behavior. Merlin, naturally, either didn't notice or couldn't be bothered to acknowledge her suspicion. He had already begun walking forward.

Morgane sighed and shook her head with an amused grin. "Tch," she muttered under her breath, before catching up to him.

It didn't take them long to reach the gates.

Towering above them stood an enormous pair of blackened iron doors etched with intricate patterns of scales, balance beams, and law runes all glimmering in the pale sunlight. Two guards stood at the gate, one on either side, their armor dull silver, helmets cloaked their faces.

As Merlin and Morgane approached, the guard to the left stepped forward. His voice was loud but measured, rehearsed, carrying no emotion.

"You must be here to seek refuge."

Actually, no. Both Morgane and Merlin thought in silent unison.

"You need not concern yourselves with your past hardships," the guard continued, his voice unchanging. "So long as you abide by the rules of this kingdom and remain upright citizens, The Council will offer you food, shelter, and full protection."

The other guard then stepped forward and spoke, his tone much lower, like a whisper, but sharp enough to cut through the air and land clearly in their ears. "There is no need to fear. The rules are absolute. But they are fair."

Taking everyone in, huh? Providing care, peace, and protection in return for obedience? That's not a bad trade… So what's the catch? Morgane narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, her gaze drifting sideways toward Merlin.

Instantly she noticed something deep in his calm expression. The lack of smile and the brewing anticipation. He was waiting for something but what?

The first guard continued. "Once you enter, you will walk straight ahead. Two hundred steps to the town center. There, you will be given a parchment listing all rules you are to follow. Housing and food will be assigned immediately after."

Sounds simple enough. But Morgane had stopped trusting anything that sounded simple.

Then the guard's tone sharpened.

"But before that, there are three absolute rules you must obey."

"Rule One: You must walk in a straight line with other citizens."

"Rule Two: You must not speak in public or create any noise."

"Rule Three: Your gaze shall remain fixed forward at all times. Do not wander."

"…"

"…"

Morgane's eyes widened, her lips and brows twitched. Her whole face contorted, forming an expression that appeared something close to grim. Merlin, meanwhile, simply exhaled. Of course. Just as expected. Having previously dealt with the Trunsoest Brass Book, an artifact made from the Justiciar's Uniqueness, Merlin had anticipated this much

Let's just see where this goes. If the Justiciar Uniqueness works anything like the Trunsoest Brass Book then this is only the beginning. The thought whispered in his head as he watched the guards turn around in perfect synchronization and placed their hands on the gate handles.

With a loud, scraping groan of iron against stone, the enormous doors swung open revealing quite a spectacle to Morgane and Merlin.

The first thing that struck the both of them was silence. Loud deafening silence. Not a single sound echoed through the sprawling city despite the overwhelming number of people pacing through its pristine, white-stone streets clean to the point of feeling unnatural. There was not a single stain, not a pebble out of place. The buildings lining the road were elegant and simple, almost symmetrical in architecture, all painted in dull shades of grey and white.

The people—men, women, and children alike all dressed the same: plain grey tunics, black belts, polished boots—adhered strictly to Rule One. They moved in perfect lines, heads bowed, faces devoid of any expression. None looked side to side. None muttered a word. Their pace was uniform, each step landing with uncanny precision. Their movements were almost reminiscent of ants.

Morgane instinctively held her breath. What even is this? She questioned internally, sharing her thoughts with the replicated virtual persona of Merlin, created using the abilities of a Sequence 4: Manipulator from the Visionary Pathway.

A Kingdom ruled by Order and Disorder, Law and Imbalance. The Virtual Persona replied in a calm and cold voice, contrary to Merlin's usual demeanour. Where freedom is not restricted—because it never existed in the first place.

Morgane gulped. Of all the things she had expected, this was not it. She discreetly turned her gaze towards the Merlin in the real world. His expressions devoid of any emotions and his eyes narrowed with a slight tilt of his head.

He took a step forward and walked in front of Morgane motioning her to do the same as well and follow behind him. "Come. Let's follow the rules for now." Morgane nodded after a moment's pause, slipping in behind him just as the gates slammed shut behind them. It seems the law didn't apply to these objects.

Spotting a gap in the marching line, they quietly merged into it. Heads hung low and steps slowly and deliberately matching those around them with perfection. 

Two Hundred steps… I doubt taking any less or anymore won't result in something bad. It seems this thought didn't need to be voiced to Morgane as she herself was mimicking the people around her without question, understanding non compliance could result in unwanted trouble. 

Both Merlin and Morgane carefully counted each step they took, even as they looked around themselves and whispered to one another in hushed tones shrouded by concealment and illusions.

"What is this, a school?" Morgane muttered, her eyes darted around landing at one building after another as she took the sight in front of her. Each and every building appeared almost completely identical with very little distinctions that could be made. It made the whole city appear like a maze of white and grey, bright and monotone. It was heavily oppressive, even she, a King of Angels, felt the oppression sink into her bones.

67, 68, 69…  

Her gaze fell back on Merlin, the wandering magician walking in line in front of her having maintained his silence. "Merlin?" Morgane extended her hand and nudged Merlin's shoulder. The man flicked his gaze back on her. "Shh, Mona. I'm thinking."

Mona? She raised an eyebrow. Did he just give me a nickname?

Merlin's thoughts were racing. Is this what the end result for Belltaine City would have looked like? His attention snapped to the spire slowly rising in the distance. This immediately caught his interest as Merlin used his status, or more specifically, the Sequence 0 status of his True Body to expand his gaze and take an unseen look at the whole Kingdom at once.

123, 124, 125…

He held his breath for a moment. Beyond the spire right, laying at the heart of the whole Kingdom, was an enormous dark gloomy palace, its exterior pitch black, its shadows casting Order itself. Despite the bright sunlight, the palace seems to reject its illumination, as its gloomy dark is maintained without falter and the effects of its oppression wash over the entire city, drenching the city in its wake.

An Embryonic Divine Kingdom? Can Uniquenessness alone forge such a thing? But then again there are two and they seem to have at least some level of Living Characteristics within them even if they might be in direct possession of Genie. Merlin chirped in his head, a small smile curling on his face.

167, 168, 169…

That erases the need to search for the target, not that there was ever a need for one. If an Embryonic Divine Kingdom is being maintained in the real world, then the entity, or in this case 'entities', that it belongs to would highly likely be inside of it. The question is how do we get inside? It isn't that simple to barge into a Divine Kingdom, even if incomplete, without making a ruckus. The last thing these people need is just that…

Merlin's gaze wandered and landed on a poor, weakened man. His knees actively showed the signs of struggle with every forceful step he took. Eventually his body gave into his exhaustion as he collapsed on the ground, his legs badly shaking.

Merlin flinched. It was bad, very. Without wasting a second, his eyes landed on Morgane whom noticed his unusual reaction and turned towards him. They both stared into each other's eyes. There was no need for an exchange of words, only their mere gaze was enough to pass on the message to each other, such was their tacit understanding.

She raised a hand, her gaze still entwined with that of Merlin and with a flick, the man collapsed on the ground vanished—erased like a scribble on a piece of paper. The people around him froze for an instant, Fooled. Then resumed their marching as if nothing had happened.

192, 193, 194…

Not good. What kind of work are the people doing here to result in that heavy exhaustion? Merlin pondered for a moment before forming a probable hypothesis. It's probably not the work itself, no, but the provided resting hours. Their lives must be dictated by rules down to the hour. This isn't exhaustion from labour but the lack of rest.

Before he could have entertained this train of thought further, he realised they had arrived at the town's centre. There sat on the base of the towering spire, was a man cloaked in a brown robe, his face pale and his eyes distant and cold. He looked over at Merlin and Morgane, maintaining his gaze for some moments.

Then, without speaking a word, the man reached into the bag that rested at his leg and pulled out two parchments from it, handing them over to Morgane and Merlin respectively. He then pointed at the streets towards the right of the spire and spoke, "Five Hundred steps." 

The two of them nodded before crafting an illusion and making it seem like they had left, when in reality they still stood in front of the spire. Merlin unrolled the parchment in his hands and swiftly began to read through it. His expression quickly mortified and his eyes bulged from their sockets.

What… are these rules? 

'You must sleep when the moon is atop and wake up before the sun arises.'

'You may not eat meat and only healthy vegetables.'

'You may not sleep on your stomach.' 

'You must meditate for one hour after sleeping.' 

'You may not have sexual intercourse on that Day.'

'You may not have any physical relationships with animals.'

The more he read, the more specific the rules became, making Merlin wonder how the situation got to this point. If this works anything like the Book of Rules… Merlin gulped and wondered if these lives around him were as innocent as he initially thought. He sighed and glanced at Morgane, whom had pulled her hood upwards and turned away from him but Merlin could notice her shaking hands that held the parchment and the twitching of her lips.

He shook his head and looked back at his parchment, even though he did not want to read much of it anymore, one specific thing caught his eye. ' Offending the law will result in heavy punishments. Continuous offence will result in imprisonment within the Palace and a proper trial will be held.'

Merlin read through that statement again. Oh… His grimace disappeared and a grin took form. This could be our entryway! Merlin had initially proposed to watch and observe, but after the previous spectacle with that exhausted man and reading this parchment, Merlin suffered a change of mind. He did not want to stay a second longer in this city.

Wonderful. He looked back at Morgane, her gaze now fixated on him. It seems she has caught on to Merlin's line of thinking after reading through the parchment herself. "Merlin…" She spoke quietly and in a measured town narrowing her eyes.

The wandering magician chuckled and responded. "Mona, have you ever been whipped?"

"Should I have been?" She said in a flat tone before sighing. "No…"

"Well, the first time is for everything!" As soon as Merlin said that, he dispelled his illusions and intently looked at Morgane, the latter hesitating with an incredulous expression. She gave in and dispelled her concealment.

Not a part of the line anymore and their heads up and high, Merlin initiated a simple chatter with her, loud and clear. They were now certified law breakers. The man sitting at the entranceway to the spire, the one that had handed them the parchment, looked at them, his facial expression contorting for the slightest moment.

But Morgane and Merlin paid no mind to it. Instead they stared into each other's eyes and continued talking. Then a sharp cut of air resounded in their ears.. In a single instant, Merlin's cloak was torn down to his back, his bare flesh exposed as his skin had been completely mauled. Small maggots suddenly emerged from his exposed wound, completely repairing it as well as his torn clothes. Whereas Morgane's hooded robe only slightly rippled, absorbing the impact in its inky darkness. Neither of them paid any mind to this as they continued their chit and chatter.

They didn't have to wait long before another whip came. Then another, and another. The intensity and frequency of them increased by every instance as Morgane and Merlin defied the law in continuance.

And eventually they hit a breaking point.

The whipping stopped and so did their chatter as a high sound suddenly pitched from behind Morgane. She turned around and watched as three men on the back of their horses loudly swirled through the air and stopped just besides Morgane and Merlin, nearly knocking the former off her feet. 

"You both are under arrest!"

About time! Merlin and Morgane took each other's hand and flashed the man a simple smile.

…

And that's how we got here.

Back in the present time, Morgane slightly shifted her body on Merlin's leg completely missing the slight jolt that coursed through him. "How long do we have to stay here?" She asked, locking her eyes with Merlin's. Despite their ability to escape this predicament with no issues, Merlin had insisted on not making a move for the time being.

His reasoning being a hunch. An intuition. Merlin was a Seer, the best Seer in this world at that. And a Seer's intuition was not one to be ignored. Morgane herself had a strange feeling, like something great was about to happen, something…

Misfortunous.

Morgane drove herself into a deep wisp of thoughts, grantingMerlin a rare moment to exhale and take back some level of control over his heavily palpitating heart. Just why… Despite the calm expression plastered on his face, Merlin was, in fact, heavily struggling to keep the blush from creeping up on his face. I have never been this physically involved with a woman…

And a woman as beautiful as Morgane? Merlin inhaled deeply again and again while some of his worms of spirit quietly slithered, using the Door Authority to peek into the outside world. He was praying, quite literally to himself, that whatever ominous spiritual intuition that had been brewing would just happen already, because truth be told, he wasn't confident on how much longer he could keep up this fragile act of composure.

Forget about keeping up with the calm act, this persona is on the verge of shattering. Even my main body sitting in Sefirah Castle is shifting uncomfortably in his chair!!! Merlin lampooned and silently cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. This wasn't just awkward. This was torture. The intimacy was suffocating, and the proximity? Unforgivable. If only I had the emotional numbness of a Saint... Maybe turning into a woman would make this any less weird?

He did consider it. Briefly. Then immediately dismissed it. The look Morgane would give me… He shook his head dispelling the thought. One of his eyes crept open slightly, catching the elegant image of the beautiful Morgane stretched lazily across his leg, her dark eyes slightly narrowed, their pupils shifting faintly with some internal thought. Merlin wondered what she was thinking.

And Merlin was better off not knowing it. 

Because Morgane's thoughts were a bunch of jumbled scattered mixes. On one hand, her mind remained focused on surveilling the outside world through 'Darkness', waiting for something to come up so they could finally take action. On the other hand, Morgane found herself almost shivering from how physically close she was to Merlin.

His scent… He smells so nice. It's so different from Klein's too… Morgane felt another shiver curl up her spine. As a demonic wolf, her hearing and olfaction were far beyond that of most Mythical Creatures. Many times this gives her a slight advantage in terms of pure physical prowess. 

But right now? It was an active curse. She clenched her teeth, swallowing the saliva that dared flow in her mouth. This is torture! She, just like Merlin, too cursed under her breath, stealing a side glance at him, his eyes closed, his expression as calm and pragmatic as ever. How could he always stay so calm?!

Unbeknownst to either of them, neither was calm. Not even close. Both trapped in this uncomfortable, awkwardly intimate coil of limbs, silently begging for the situation to end.

Fortunately their salvation finally arrived. Both Morgane and Merlin abruptly straightened, instinctually attempting to stand up. But before Merlin's foot could shift an inch, Morgane's hand snapped around his leg like a vice. She was already spiraling in her intense emotions and did not need her crotch to be kicked by his foot.

The surrounding darkness rippled as if pulsing to life. It thickened, growing in intensity and began to surge gently like calm waves of ocean and swallowed Morgane's body as a whole leaving only Merlin in the cold, damp cell. But that mattered naught. Merlin's body abruptly began to contort. His chest tightened, his limbs drew in, and his expression twisted grotesquely. His eyes bulged; his flesh clung to his bones like wet parchment to stone. Then, with a grotesque hiss, his form unraveled.

It dissolved into a cluster of small, curling, translucent maggots with a three dimensional pattern etched into the surface of their writhing body. They twisted and tangled together forming a strangely shaped mass of tentacles and flesh. The grotesque mass crawled on ground and effortlessly passed through the rusted metal bars. 

Once outside in the corridor, the abomination convulsed, collapsing as it bloated and began to take the shape of a human body. First came his long legs clad in neatly pressed, white checkered pants and polished brown shoes. Then the torso formed, draped in a crisp white shirt beneath a red vest, layered beneath a long coat and a black cloak. Finally, the head emerged—his face was unremarkable, painfully ordinary, but his neck bore a beautiful red scarf.

Merlin blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting as he watched the darkness in front of him suddenly took form and revealed from within itself a beautiful woman, her features sharp and her long hair flowed into the damp air gently, strands weaving and curling together into a neat, locked flock as if combed by invisible fingers. In her hands rested her neatly folded black hooded cloak with mysterious symbols draped over it. 

She took a step forward towards Merlin, the heel of her black polished shoes clanked against the brick floor making loud noises. "Giants?"

"Giants." That was Merlin's intuition alerting him of an incoming happening. Giants, an entire army of them marching towards this city of order and disorder, led by whom Merlin deduced to be the kin of Giant King. 

Badheil… Morgane took another step, now standing only mere inches away from him. The previous awkwardness between them had dissolved almost instantly once the situation was over. "I propose we use this opportunity to our advantage," she said softly. "Advance through this castle and get to the two Uniquenesses. The giants won't take long to breach the outer perimeter, and even less to draw attention away from the castle. The Enforcers will be occupied with defense and containment. As for whatever guards are inside…"

A smile took form on her lips, plain, simple yet so pretty and serene. "We could do this stealthy or we could hold a spectacular show like the fools we are. Your call." For a moment, Merlin was completely taken aback by this, but quickly composed himself as he came to reassess a point about Morgane. 

She can be both calm and serene and explosive and chaotic. 

"Do I really need to say it?" Merlin snorted and tipped his classic hat, chuckling and smiling as he narrowed his gaze at Morgane and slightly bowed down. "Show me your best, my lady." He pointed straight ahead towards the exit to this floor as Morgane chuckled over his gestures and raised her hands stretching her body as a few crackled sounds resounded in the air. 

"Fine then, my prince—would you hold onto this for me?"

Morgane threw the cloak in her hand towards Merlin whom skillfully caught it in his arms. Wait, Prince? His brow twitched. He looked back at her and paused.

Without hesitation, Morgane raised her arms and undid the first two buttons of her white shirt. She unbuttoned her sleeves before rolling them upwards just above her elbows, enough to see the muscles in her arms. She reached into the swirling inky dark and drew forth a blade. An obsidian longsword. Its design on the handle and on the blade made it appear like an inverted colour version of the famous legendary sword from Arthurian legends, the Excalibur. 

"Tale closes, my liege," Morgane said, voice proud, ceremonial. "Let this Knight be the guiding path for this wonderful endeavour."

She raised the sword high, its tip aimed directly at the path ahead. Then, with theatrical precision, she shifted into stance, feet angled, spine straight, every movement echoing the discipline of a Knight. Her head turned sharply back to face Merlin, a wide grin tugging at her lips.

And Merlin, in response,

Stood silently. 

Because as he had just come to understand 

Today was going to be the most interesting day of his life.