The wall was colored red. So red, that it almost reminds people who have seen it of the color of blood. With mostly pure white on the tile roof.
"Ancient," Some say, while others see the massive palace as a strange building that already stood there inside the Capital before even the Capital was constructed.
The palace in question was the Scarlet Palace, the private property of the Second Daughter of the Hallmeavan Family, Glamoria Hallmeavan.
This ancient establishment has 5 main buildings in total, which are constructed in a triangular arrangement, with two golden-red buildings located at the center. The palace was constructed in a style that looked like a combination of eastern and western styles, which somehow tells how knowledgeable the first owner of the palace was in designing such a complex mix of architecture.
But no one knows. Almost. About the existence of another main building of the palace, the existence of the oldest establishment here, in the Capital.
The very owner of the palace was now heading towards the building in question. Her slender, long legs made her way forward, passing by the barracks and the training grounds where her soldiers and knights train, the small canopy of trees, and then, she stopped before a stone-paved hut.
'Requies.' That was what was carved on the stone door of the hut. A word so ancient that people no longer knew its meaning.
Glamoria's golden pupils locked on the hut, her lips tugged up, as always. She brought her legs forth, step by step. She slowly moved closer to the door of the ancient establishment.
The warm breeze of spring dances around the leaves and logs of the trees, making a calming, natural song of nature.
Glamoria's face was so cutely and gently formed that she looked like a harmless and friendly being to every living being. Her presence is so low and soothing in the perspective of the small animals and insects that reside here.
A petite bird thought she was merely a harmless being and landed in her front to catch a moron worm, but when the bird raised its head to look up, it faced a massive sole of the being it at first thought was harmless.
Kept her smile fresh on her face, Glamoria nonchalantly stepped on the bird, ground it to merely a pulp of meat and a little pool of blood. The cries of the bird she abandoned as merely an irrelevant noise.
She stretched her right hand, grabbed the knop of the stone door, and pushed it open.
She tugs her smile wider, her eyes look deeply at a man soaked in blood inside the hut, whose hands and legs are chained to the wall.
The interior of the hut was damp and moist. Moist by the red liquids, not water. And these liquids were not the chained man's. These liquids were dropped from tens of humanoid meats hanging on the ceiling. Even now, the rain of crimson is still pouring down on the man.
"The Steel Fist, Farrone."
The sweet, sweet voice of Glamoria brought the man to open up his golden eyes. His Fist cupped tightly, even started to bleed, since the strength contained in that muscular body was too much for his own skin to resist.
"Glamoria...!" The man growled.
His hands were shaking as the man tried to reach the woman standing right in front of him, but he couldn't. The chains were no standard chains, the chains were something that was used to restrain a powerful monster capable of obliterating a small town.
He glared at Glamoria's face and spat on it.
"Devil... I knew it, you Hallmeavans were indeed evil, just like what rumors said!"
Glamoria is silent still; her smile unwavering. Her fake smile was never ever waved. Because she'd been taught so, because she'd seen and experienced more, more, and more than merely getting spat on the face.
So she opened her plum lips, while her hand calmly wiped her face clean using a handkerchief, and said.
"Your order has been set, Farrone."
Above the pool of blood, they smiled.
"I'll allow you to return to the Academy."
Stepped on the mountain of corpses, they rose high.
"But."
Hallmeavans was their kin.
"You should do me a favor first if you desire freedom."
Their smiles were empty masks, while their words were lies.
In the dark, they laughed, above miseries, they rejoiced—they were the Devils of Night and Blood.
The Children of Scarlet.
Requies o to feur Lord.