Chapter 20: Ch20 The Accusation
The prayer hall was quiet, save for the far-off flicker of torches on stone walls. A thousand eyes—elders, priests, and apprentices—were trained on the old man seated on the raised altar. Father did not blink, did not even raise an eyebrow. He just sat, his staff laid out beside him, a pale smile playing on his lips.
One of the younger apprentices spoke too loudly, his voice ringing over the hush.
"Why is he smiling...?"
"Because he knows something," another growled back.
At last, the accusatory elder, a lean man with a pointed nose and too elegant a robe for his role, began to speak.
This prophecy of yours, allegedly, is a falsehood!" he shouted, his rage and terror making his voice tremble. "It was not foretold by Asmethan, the god of truth and light, but by Luffy—the god of jokes!"
Gasp spread in waves through the room. Murmurs welled up like a dam that had ruptured, battering against the walls of silence.
"Impossible—"
"Blasphemy!"
"Does he expect us to believe it? The god of jokes?"
"Father led us astray...?
But Father just laughed. The laugh was deep, rich, and seemed to ring down the hallway to take with it a sudden hushing of the talking. His eyes twinkled with mirth.
"So," he said, his voice teasing for one so old. "You tell me it was not Asmethan who came to you, but Luffy the fake?"
"Ah, yes!" the old man snapped back, roused by the limelight. "And what more joke is there than to deceive all of us here? This prophecy is a joke—a lie handed down to deceive the believers!"
Father tilted his head to one side, looking at the man as at an amusing insect. Then, with the same infuriating smile, he asked,
"Then tell me, child... if it was Luffy who gave me the vision, does that make me his servant?"
The question struck the hall like a hammer. Murmurs broke out again, faster, louder. Apprentices whispered nervously, elders exchanged uneasy glances.
"Servant of Luffy?"
"He cannot be serious—"
"But if the trickster god truly spoke to him—"
"Would that not taint the altar?"
The accusatory elder sneered, believing he had altered the course. He was going to speak—
—but another elder, a bearded man whose beard descended his chest in silver strands, thumped his staff to the ground. The boom resonated like thunder.
"Listen not to the venom of this shame!" the elder silver-bearded patriarch thundered. He tossed a finger at the accuser. "This fellow was driven out of our community for pestering the young apprentices. His charges are not worth the breath they breathed in these halls!"
Grumbles rose again, this time keener. Apprentices exchanged glances, grumbling.
"Harassment?!"
"So that gossip was true."
"He has the audacity to stand there and blame Father?"
The accused elder’s face flushed red. He bared his teeth like a cornered beast.
"Hypocrites, all of you!" he spat. "You stand there in your fancy robes, pretending to be pure, but not one of you has the guts to take on the old man’s lies. You’d prefer to uphold your authority than the truth!"
"You dare!" one elder snapped.
"Shut your mouth, wretch!" another bellowed.
The room erupted into pandemonium, people shouting over one another. There were those who demanded discipline, others who demanded inquiry. Apprentices tiptoed on their tiptoes, reaching to catch sight of the altercation, muttering amongst themselves.
"Think Father actually lied?"
"Impossible. The light has accompanied him all along."
"But suppose... suppose the trickster god actually did give it?"
"Shut your mouth before someone overhears!"
The accused elder, seeing the storm brewing, spread his arms wide and laughed mockingly.
"See? Notice how they turn on each other at the slightest hint of truth? Is this the great house of Asmethan? A den of cowards and deceiver’s den?"
It was when Father rose up.
His movements were slow, but intentional. He supported himself on the arms of the chair and stood up, staff held firmly in hand. Each step forward seemed to weigh the earth down. When he reached the edge of the altar, the room was silent again.
Father raised his staff.
The earth trembled.
A blinding flash radiated from him, waves of gold flooding the floor like liquid flame. Apprentices shielded their eyes, elders stepped back. The stone pillars of the hall glowed with a pale radiance as if reflecting the brilliance.
Father’s voice boomed, husked with something below age.
"Tell me, children... do I look like a servant of Luffy?"
The accused elder’s face turned white. He stepped back, his lips trembling.
"Beware," Father continued, throwing his staff. The golden glow intensified, warm and terrible. "Each god possesses a color. Asmethan’s is gold, as bright as the sun. But Luffy? The god of deceit has a gray divine light—teasing, cold, unbecoming. Do you see gray in these beams?"
The chamber remained quiet aside from the bitter gasping of the accused elder. Apprentices, half-blinded, murmured with ire.
"It’s gold..."
"True gold..."
"He can’t be lying."
Father drove his staff directly at the accused. His voice was thunder.
"You presume to stand upon this altar and call me bond-servant to a deceiver. Look at the light, and speak it again—I am bond-servant to a deceiver?"
The elder shook, his eyes darting, his heart flown. Finally, with a muffled shriek, he spun about and fled down the aisle.
"Seize him!" cried the silver-bearded elder.
Two younger priests dashed after the fleeing man. Robes flapping, they tackled him before he reached the great doors. The accused kicked and thrashed, spitting curses.
"You’re all blind! Blind hypocrites! He deceives you—he deceives us all!"
"Bind him!" shouted another elder.
But before they could drag him away, a new sound thundered through the hall—one that silenced even the struggle.
The great doors of the prayer hall swung open.
A herald’s voice boomed.
"Proclaiming the arrival of His Majesty Darius Asme IV, king of the realm, with the royal court and chivalrous knights!"
All the voices were choked into silence. Apprentices dropped to their knees, elders stiffened, and Father’s golden radiance softened just enough that silhouettes at the door could be seen.
The king advanced, cloak fluttering over marble. Behind him, the noble knights glittered in burnished steel, banners rippling in golden light. And in their midst—narrowed eyes, unreadable faces—were the princes.
The accused elder braced himself, still pinned to the ground. His eyes widened with horror.
"Your. Majesty." he gasped.
The hall held their breaths.