Emma walks softly along the main street of the city, taking all the dead bodies in mind.

Stopping every few moments to look at the closest husk that lies on the street.

Observing their garb to understand just who they were in life before they were snuffed out.

 

Making mental notes of the well-worn but decently clothed peasants that dot the outer area of the streets.

Looking at the merchants folded husk over their wears, as they had bartered with the last customers.

Seeing the guards slumped where they stood to watch over important buildings for intruders.

 

Looking at the guard's husk, seeing the corpse's expression of confused death stirs his stomach.

Though Emma quickly suppresses the sensation readily, he can't suppress the intuitive knowledge he has.

That the man and everyone else he can see had died by their years stripped from them.

 

He continues walking along the street, noticing now that he isn't paying attention to the carcasses, that all the plants in the city have died.

As he sees all the prepared fields of grass for practicing herbalism or the aristocratic gardens dead.

Flowers hanging limp as they have become unable to bear their own weight in their end.

 

As any vibrant green that was left in their leaves and their stems has long since vanished.

With the animals that were skittering amongst the streets in the dark dead as well.

Dried like the people, husks that were mummified in the place they had left this life behind.

 

Emma looks at them with resignation as he returns his gaze to his arms.

Looking at the ethereal claws that cover his hands from the wrist to the tips of his fingers.

Trying to understand what that voice was but, continuing onwards unwilling to think on the matter further.

 

Thinking on the matter any further would make him depressed for no good reason.

As he had to get to the palace to see if the nobility and his highness remained alive.

Or if what he had felt had happened had occurred to them as well, or if it was just his imagination.

 

As he walks along the main path, he heads further into the more aristocratic center of the city.

Seeing that most of the worn garbed cadavers left are servants, with every other now a noble.

Many of which died unknowing and unaware of their appending doom.

 

Though most of them he had little love for, the sight was still sickening to stare at.

Since he woke up in his cell, he instinctively and visually sees the cause of their end.

Instead of stewing further on that matter, he turns his gaze towards the buildings instead.

 

Staring at polished marble and stone, with fancy decorations added to the wooden portions.

Though that is unsurprising for Emma or the noble part of the capital city.

For many of the buildings in the aristocratic portion of the city were made with exquisite care.

 

The Aristocrats of the country would not have anything less for their lifestyles.

Let alone for their reputations if the noble sector was anything but the most lavish.

Only a small minority of the buildings were actually devoted to other matters relating to the country.

 

Like things regarding the Guards or the Priest of the True Goddess.

Though as a result of their place of work relegated to a few important spots in the district.

They were uniquely designed from the backdrop of noble residential areas or high-class clientele.

 

Though that was an intentional design philosophy that the builders had in mind.

As the ones designing the Guard station wanted to respond readily to the concerns of the nobility.

And were unwilling to waste their time trying to walk to it if it was placed in the outer sections of the capital.

 

The church was also unwilling to have the same designs of structure as the mortals below.

As that would be a highly disrespectful gesture to the one and the only goddess, they had stated.

Which made sense at the time, though some like Emma never really enjoyed how they worded their statements.

 

The two buildings now stand as remarkable pieces of the capital and of the people that once lived within.

As their gilded and beautiful displays of personal wealth and prestige now hang on their mummified carcasses.

Now only a display of funeral items for any graverobber or researcher seeking to understand the capital's end.

 

Emma staring at the husk of guards inside their work when their lives had an abrupt end.

Looking at how they lay on their desks and slumped on the tables as if mid-conversation with friends.

Though Emma quickly looks away, he still offers up a prayer to the goddess for their souls as he moves on.

 

He walks past the prestigious halls where the nobility would occasionally host balls within.

Where now only the silence remains, and the halls have grown cold.

Emma feels apologetic about the entire situation but continues his walk to the palace gates.

 

Emma comments to himself as he walks through the halls of the royal palace.

As his sight cycles through the remnants of those who died here.

Looking at all the elite guards picked for their loyalty and brutality to any who dare harm aristocracy.

 

Now just a crumbled mess of husks and armor left abandoned by the death of their users.

Emma walks past them to stand before the royal gate, the gate he would pass through every day for work.

He would quickly respond to his king's courier to arrive early for his work as the court's jester.

 

Always ready to please his king with his jokes and his practiced skill in instrument and song.

Such a beautiful time it was to live was Emma's thoughts then.

But that time was not fated to last, as his majesty was found dead the day following a great feast.

 

The nobles of the court set up Emma as the traitor among the court.

The one who poisoned his majesty and ran that story to his highness.  

Though Emma knew himself innocent, the court and the puppet prince did not care for his pleas.

 

He was sent to be tortured to reveal the 'truth' of his crimes, as all Emma could do.

Was weep for the death of his best friend, the death of his happiness, and the fated loss of his life.

Emma now stands in front of the door, ready to enter to see just what tragedy he caused in turn.