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Chapter 8 - Paulus

I

        Paulus glanced over his shoulder at the barn and shivered. He could feel it looking at him from the shadows. Those black impossibly hungry eyes. With forced effort, he cast his gaze forward.
        His sides throbbed. Walking hurt. Everything was pain. Aemilia had done fine work, but nothing could prevent the agony from the injuries he suffered. In reality, he knew he was lucky to be alive. Only time would allow his flesh to mend and the torment to end. For a moment, he relived the hot iron Aemilia used to seal his flesh and shivered at the phantom feeling it caused in his sides. The smell, the taste in the air, it made his stomach turn. At any other time, he would have been bed ridden. This was not any other time. Survival forced his legs forward and kept the suffering at bay.
        “How are you doing?” Aemilia asked as they reach the main road.
        Paulus glanced over his shoulder one last time and felt remorse cut through him. Somehow, he knew they would never return. They were abandoning the farm and his heart sank. He swallowed hard, to fight the knot in his chest and met his wife’s eyes.
        “Sore,” He forced a smiled in an effort to reassure her, “The walk will loosen me up.”
        Aemilia smiled back, but it held the same warmth as his own. She adjusted her pack and strode onto the road. Paulus kept pace and refused to look back again, even though it ate at him to do so and made his neck stiff as if it needed to be cracked.
        There was not much to say after a neighbour transformed into a monster and attempted slaughter everyone around it, so they did not speak for some time. One foot after the other in a steady rhythm was the only thought and action.
        The sun was muted by a grey haze, but the heat felt amplified. After a while, Paulus smelled smoke on the air and as they crested a low hill, the source plain to see. A farmhouse, distant but visible on the horizon, bellowed smoke into the air. The trees near it had also taken flame, creating a smoke funnel that rose far into the sky before it spread and thinned to obscure light.
        In the smog-filled distanced, at least three other columns rose. Paulus’s heart sank. He wondered if others suffered the same fate. His head was starting to become light due to the smoke and he was unsure which, but he knew one house was Bantius’s. Are there others like Bantius? He thought to himself. Selfishly, he was glad their journey would take them in another direction than the burning structures.
        “What is going on?” Aemilia whispered. Shock laced her voice and there was no forthcoming answer to her question.
        “We should keep moving,” Paulus said, “We’ll need to find somewhere to shelter for the night. I doubt I can make the full journey to Lavici without rest.”
        Aemilia swallowed and pulled her eyes away from the devastated land, “There is the river cove?”
        Paulus nodded in agreement and took one last look at the distant smoke trails, “Probably the only place we’ll be able to find shelter that’s nearby.”
        He took the lead and focused on his feet to keep the hurt at bay. It did not work as intended. As they reached the hill’s base, he stopped to take a deep breath that sent pained slivers across his nerves. He hoped he had enough strength to reach the river.
        Their pace was slow, but steady. Grey light began to turn into a deep blue and purple haze in the sky. Feint water burbling sounded in the distance and hope pushed them forward. The noise grew louder and steadier with each step. Fresh water aromas hit them like a wave, as if there were a wall against the carbon filled air.
        After cresting a small bluff, the river sawed through the landscape with dazzling power. Paulus knew it as the Gracus. He did not know what fed it - likely the glaciers beyond the Northern Mountains - but what he did know is that it fed into the powerful Tiber River and flowed to the Capital, Carthirose. The Gracus was not large enough to carry the massive ships that the Tiber was able too, but smaller scale skiffs and fishing boats patrolled the river’s calmer waters regularly.
        The cove was not hard to find. Its calm waters were clear and small fish glided about without care or worry. Beyond the sheltering rocks at the cove’s inlet, the Gracus raged in sharp contrast to the serine pool. The rapids drowned out the world with dull harsh noise and filled the air with mist.
        Carefully, Paulus ease down the steep embankment onto the sandy shore along the water's edge. He winced as he slid the last few inches and had to brace himself from falling by holding a tree’s exposed root. Aemilia landed beside him, with a graceful softness and gave a reassuring hand to ensure his balance was okay. A smile lifted his lips and she returned it.
        “Remember when we used to sneak out at night and meet here?” Paulus asked.
        Aemilia’s smile broadened, “I don’t think you are in the right condition for that.”
        “I am trying to remember something good,” Paulus said.
        “Let’s get you settled in the cave,” Aemilia suggested, “Then we can enjoy those fond memories.”
        Paulus did not argue. His legs wobbled. Exhaustion made his eyes heavy, and his mind was beginning to fog. The cave could hardly be called thus. It was little more than an impression in the embankment and could not claim to be a robust shelter. However, it was deep enough from them to fully seclude themselves within. There was nowhere else to go, and this was better than being in the open.
        Aemilia pulled a half-crushed bread loaf from her back and tore off two chunks before returning the remainder. She handed Paulus the bigger piece and took a small nibble from her own. There was not much to say, so they sat in silence and ate.

II

        It cut through the night with an almost physical presence. The sound was high in pitch, like a bat’s shriek, but had a roaring lion’s force and volume. A sharp chill ran up Paulus’s spine as he was woken by it. The night was silent, and, after a few moments, he thought the sound was his imagination -a nightmarish dream that woke him while on sleeps edge caused by his recent experiences. That was what he hoped. 

        The scream returned with more tenacity and all sleep left his eyes. It was closer, as if it were inside their natural shelter. He sucked in his breath and stifled a whimper in his throat. Rocks overhead screeched. The scratching noise was familiar to him; his mother used to run her nails across a marble cutting board to silence him when he was young. He imagined the Bantius-thing’s talons scraping and lacerating the stones above. Dust and dirt descended from the small cave’s ceiling with each clawing noise. With an inevitable slowness, the small screeches walked step by slow step towards the cave’s entrance. Sweat poured from Paulus’s forehead as panic took hold. This is the end, he thought, and his chest hurt from the stress.
        The footfalls stopped. Again, the night was silent for an uncomfortable time, which seemed to last forever. His breath refused to come, and he felt like he was drowning. He waited for the Bantius-thing to rear its hideous face into the cave’s mouth and leap at him with its impossibly long fangs.
        He looked at Aemilia, who was nestled beside him and slept soundly. Her face was beyond peaceful. He smiled - despite the fear - appreciating that her perfect beauty would be his last vision in life.
        Whatever was above had a heavy breath and its wet maw was audible as it licked its lips. Paulus wanted to see it, to know if it was his doom, and wholly did not at the same time. A low rumble, like a wolf’s growl emanated from the thing. He did not know if it was his imagination or otherwise, but he swore he saw long fingers with dagger-like talon’s dig into the ceiling’s edge at the opening. He imagined the thing arching its back and rearing its head at the full moon as it called out, in a horrific cry. Others joined the chorus, and new fears twisted his guts. Bantius was not the only one...
        The cave’s roof rumbled as whatever it was took off, in a sprint - back the way it came. Once again, the night grew silent, this time for good. Not even the crickets sang and the water from the nearby river seemed to still. He looked at Aemilia and smiled, despite the chill at his very core as his heart slowed back to its normal beat. She fidgeted slightly in his arms. Paulus was always amazed by her ability to sleep through everything and anything. For once, he was thankful she was not snoring.

III

        Sunlight spread across the cove. It was picturesque in its beauty. Paulus looked out from the cave and enjoyed the scene’s serenity, despite his body being a dull pain and almost unmovable due to the stiffness in his muscles and joints. Aemilia was just beginning to stir as the sun crept in. He kept his arms lightly around her as her eyes flickered open. She smiled and pressed against his chest.
        “Good morning, my love,” Paulus said.
        “Good morning, love,” Aemilia replied through a yawn.
        “We should get moving soon,” he said, “The sun has been up for about an hour.”
        “Please, a little longer?”
        He smiled and ignored the urgency he felt in his soul to get away. The day could wait. Taking a moment to be with each other, after all that transpired, was more important than getting a few extra yards down the road. Lavici was close and they would easily make it before nightfall if he could keep a steady pace for a few hours.
        Hunger caused them to finally stir. Aemilia produced more bread, and they ate slowly, unwilling to leave their embrace. After they finished, reality took hold and Aemilia pulled away. Paulus wanted to protest but the urgency returned to get away, and he winced as he pushed to his feet. A night on rocks had not been kind to his wounded body. He was beyond sore and had to force his limbs to move with conscious thought. After he took a moment to take in the sun’s position, he was relieved that it was still a few hours from its zenith. Their journey would not be as rushed as he thought.
        Aemilia filled their water skins in the cove, while Paulus spent his bladder on the tangled roots outside the cave. They gathered their belongings and Paulus felt bad that Aemilia hefted weight without aid. With some help, he managed to climb the embankment, and after he caught his breath, they moved on, back towards the road.

IV 

        The road was quiet. Silence stretched as if even the prairie animals refused to stir. Not even insects swam through the wet morning air. As Paulus took in the land, he noticed the grass had lost its luster and was beginning to yellow and grey at the tips. Leaves on the few trees that broke up the hilled expanse shared a similar sickly appearance as the grass. It was very unusual to see such a decayed state in the foliage so early in the summer, and he wondered what the cause was.
        They passed a large leafless frightening behemoth, who’s branches were swarmed with crows. The black birds watched them pass with soulless dark eyes. A few made catcalls and cried in high pitched squawks.
        “I hate those things,” Aemilia whispered, as if afraid they would understand.
        “We should keep moving,” Paulus said, “They ignore us.”
        More distance passed and just as Paulus noticed the sickly land, he found that not all was dying or tainted. As they got closer to Lavici the land seemed to improve. There were only bright green grass blades. However, the crows did not. They gathered on every tree that lined the road and their cackles. Paulus had the impression that they were taunting him. He knew it was his imagination but could not shake the feeling.
        Rancid death pushed away the still air, overpowering the feint carbon. Its smell was worse than the dung Paulus used to nourish his fields in the spring. Large bloated black flies swam lazily through the air and had to be swatted away as they gathered into clouds. After a few more steps, the source became apparent. He almost did not recognize the body at once but was not spared that mercy that came from realization. His heart shattered and he cried out, which caused the crows to stir from their tree roosts.
        “Argento...” He whimpered and fell to his knees. The horse was torn apart. Portions were missing and other parts were splayed across the ditch in a wide arc. Blood spattered the grass in wide jetting streams and ended with Argento’s detached head a few yards from the rest.
        “By the gods...” Aemilia rasped as tears welled in her eyes.

V

        Lavici lacked the vibrance it had during their last visit. It was as if the stones had aged a hundred years and became grey from weather wear. People milled towards the town in a loose herd. Many looked pale and others bore wounds. Carts burdened with personal belongings and family members, young and old, bobbled on the road’s cobblestones at a trickling pace, while those on foot shuffled forward only slightly faster. Everyone’s head was bowed, and their clothing looked battered from travel.
        “I guess we aren’t the only ones,” Aemilia commented.
        Paulus nodded but could not bring himself to speak. His mind’s eye was transfixed with Argento’s mutilated visage as if the decapitated head were seared into his eyelids. Tears refused to come to wash the image away; he had already spent enough to make his eyes swell.
        As they approached the gates, a bottleneck formed, and bodies pressed together. Paulus felt the same claustrophobic discomfort he had felt during their last visit to the town. At the same time, this was completely different. It was the people’s mood, he decided. He could feel the sour emotions upon the air and taste it from the scents from those nearby. Instinctively, he gripped Aemilia’s hand to prevent any separation in the crowd.
        Guards at the gates called for order repeatedly and the crowd did not object in their slow churn into the town. Paulus felt as if they were being herded. Anger flared in his chest. His blood heated. He could not explain why. Maybe it was the grief for Argento, maybe it was crowd, or maybe it was that he and Aemilia were displaced from their home, then forced to endure this discomfort. No matter the cause, he wanted to lash out. It took a significant effort to hold the feeling at bay; luckily, it eased as they crossed Lavici’s threshold and were afforded a little more space, because the guards spread the people evenly across the square to keep the order.
        “Please!” A guard amongst the crowd cried, “Do not push! We must remain civil until accommodations can be made!”
        More guards made their way to the yelling one, and Paulus felt a wave from the crowd, as whatever disturbance the guards sought to hold shifted the herd. With a sigh, Paulus did his best to let the remaining anger go. It helped that his body was so battered. Being mad stole the energy he needed to stand and move, while his body sought to heal.
        “So many...” Aemilia said.
        There were far more gathered in the crowd than gathered outside the town’s gates. Paulus felt fortunate to get in, with how full the square was becoming. The rural folk were quickly overcoming the town's ability to accommodate. Paulus prayed to the gods that they would not be sent back out, to whatever fate or ends that could meet them beyond the walls.
        “The bastard bit me!” A guard cried from within the shifting disturbance. Paulus could not see the interaction and was too tired to worry about it. The crowd continued to shift against the commotion and the pressed bodies caused him into a stumble. Pain shot through his nerves as he used to much force to remain standing. He was forced to put his weight on Aemilia, and it was as if what little strength he had was sucked from him. She held onto him with effort but managed to keep him upright, after a whimper.
        “Chain him!” One newly arrived guard cried at the commotion.
        “Everyone remain calm!” A burley guard right beside Aemilia screamed with a lion’s roar. Paulus had not noticed the burley guard before but was thankful to be near someone with authority. His thick beard and wax pointed mustache stretch beyond the t-shaped opening in his helm. The simple armour on his chest, shoulders, and forearms glistened in the smoke muted sunlight. It did little to hide his bulk and only added to it.
        “Sergeant!” A female’s voice cut through the crowd noise, like a warm knife through butter.
        The burley guard turned and saluted. Paulus caught the stress in the guard’s features, and his eyes drifted to approaching woman. Although slight in stature, she had a commanding aura about her. The crowd seemed to naturally melt away from her, creating a channel for her and her entourage. Her armour was far more complete than the burley guard’s but was not ostentatious and looked as if functionality was its primary design consideration.
        “Captain,” The burley guard stammered and saluted.
        The woman stopped and met the burley guard’s eyes with ease, despite being more than a head shorter. It was as if she were a foot taller than the bearded man. Her hard eyes were cold with unflinching authority and the tight muscles in her face were imposing to a degree that seemed impossible for such a slight woman. Paulus was reminded of his mother, when he and his brother accidentally broke something while they played as young boys. He guessed the burley guard felt the same by how he sucked in his gut and straightened his posture.
        “We need to stop the flow and bring order those who have already entered,” The woman said, “The healthy and those who can walk must be brought in and given rooms in the halls or apartments where there is space. The sick and severely wounded must remain here in the courtyard. We will build tents to keep them once we disperse the crowd.”
        “Understood mum,” The burley guard sergeant said.
        “Maintain order, Sergeant,” The woman said, “Two escorts per group.”
        “By your will Captain,” The burley sergeant saluted again.
        The woman returned the salute and pressed on. She gave a stiff but not unkind nod to Aemilia as she passed and placed a hand on Paulus’s shoulder. Her piercing eyes twitched up and down and her lips grew tight. “Sergeant,” The woman called over her shoulder, “Put these two in the first group, this one is pretty bad, and I want him cared for before he is unable to walk.”
        “Thank you,” Aemilia whimpered as a tear rolled down her face’s contours.
        “You are safe now,” The woman said, “We’ll find what caused this.”
        Before anything else could be said, a commotion outside the gates caused the woman to turn her attention away. She marched into the crowd with an arrow’s surety.
        “Alright you two,” The burley guard announced, “Move this way. You can join the first group about to leave the square. We don’t have much space for everyone, but you’ll have a small room to yourselves.”
        “Thank you, Sergeant,” Aemilia smiled as warmly as she could muster.
        “My pleasure, ma’am,” the burley Sergeant returned the smile.
        “My I ask your name sir?” She asked.
        “Dexsius ma’am.”
        Aemilia nodded, “I’ll remember the name, thank you Dexsius.”
        He smiled with real warmth, “We’ll do our best for you all. Please, join the group, least you be left behind.”
        “Goodbye for now, Sergeant.”
        Paulus let Aemilia lead and struggled to find any strength. His feet dragged with each step and his knees sought to buckle. The journey had taken more from him than he thought. His sides felt wet, and it wondered if the wounds had reopened even though they had been cauterized.

VI

        Lavici’s streets seemed abandoned. Only sickly, hairless rats roamed the alleys and gutters. Paulus did not like their look. It was as if their albino red eyes glowed in the shadows, but he was sure that was just his imagination. The thick black veins throbbing beneath their pale skin was equally disturbing and they hissed like cats at any in the group who strayed near. A particularly fat rat crawled towards group and Paulus could have sworn it was trying to bite his ankles.
        “Watch those damn things,” A guard said and kicked the rat aside with is armoured boot, “They have gotten vicious recently. Especially the hairless ones.”
        Paulus watched the rodent spiral through the air a short distance and his neck tightened in irritation when it landed and squealed from its back. He said weakly, “They look wrong.”
        The guard nodded, “Something has gotten into them. The healers think rabies. Don’t want to get bit, that’s for sure.”
        Before Paulus could reply, the guard at the procession’s front called out, “Uulius, did you get drafted for the patrol?”
        The guard who kicked the rat, who Paulus assumed was Uulius, called back, “Yeah I drew the short straw.” Uulius gave a quick chin tilt, signaling their conversation was over and raced up to the other guard.
        “Unlucky bastard.”
        “I am guessing you won’t be joining us, Mettius?” Uulius asked.
        “By the gods no!” Mettius laughed, “I am going to enjoy a hearty meal and warm bed while you and the others prance across the countryside looking to get killed by whatever is stirring all these people to Lavici.”
        Paulus detested Mettius for his causal dismissal. He knew no one wanted to be displaced from their homes and forced to endure this march. None wanted to accept charity. They had no choice. Monsters roamed where they once carved a meager life from the soil. He knew Mettius would miss those crops when they spoiled and when winter made food sparse.
        Uulius chuckled, “You are such a noble soul.”
        “I am a soul whose belly will be filled with a proper meal tonight, not shit rations!”
        “Better luck next time, asshole.”
        “Oh, you don’t mean that Uulius,” Mettius said and gave a playful pushed to his comrade’s shoulder.
        Uulius laughed.
        Suddenly serious, Mettius said, “You look after yourself, kid.”
        “Don’t worry about me, old man.”
        The friendly banter brought no smile to Paulus’s face. But he was glad there was still mirth in these dark times, even if it was unintentionally at his and the others expense. There was a faint hope that he could find enjoyment again after he healed; despite what he and Aemilia had seen. He had always been a positive soul. The real miracle was that he still had some, despite what had happened. He could see in the others’ dead tired faces that they did not share his hope.

VII 

        The apartment was a small space. Beneath the spaced floorboards, light from the hall reached up like fingers and danced through the dust in the air. The walls did nothing to disguise the noises from the next room and felt thin to the touch. In a way, after what had happened, these discomforts were pleasing. There was an unconscious primal desire for safety in numbers.
        “It's not so bad,” Aemilia said as she helped Paulus to the bed.
        With a slight hiss and wince, he twisted into the small bed and settled in. The guards said food would be brought to them from the inn’s master and that the Captain had arranged payment, but Paulus had little mind for food. He was sure he was famished but exhaustion did not allow him to feel his stomach’s anger.
        Aemilia began to strip him and check the wounds. He winced as she had to peel away the fabric, which stuck to his scabbed flesh. He could feel the wet and wondered how bad the wounds were. He did not have the courage to look.
        “We are safe,” He said and weakly pulled Aemilia to his side as she took a clean cloth to the rent flesh.
        “I hope so,” Aemilia said.
        “The guards seem like good people and the town’s walls will keep out any troubles,” Paulus said confidently. He could see Aemilia was not convinced and so held her tighter. She set the cloth aside after the wounds were clean and lay down, then nuzzled under his chin; careful to not push on his wounded sides as she draped her arms around him.
        “I love you,” She whispered into his chest.
        “And I you,” He said and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Thanks for reading!

Brett

Wait if you have not read the previous Chapters, click the Carthirose Saga button above or Click here.

Chapters 7 - Talinnius

I

        Talinnius stormed into the crypt chamber and his heart broke.
        “How...” He said, “Quintis, who did this?”
        An elderly but well-built man knelt in reverence before the body on the stone slab, with his back to Talinnius. With a tentative hand, the elderly man took the body’s shoulder and gripped it as only a close friend or family member could.
        “I don’t know,” Quintis replied as he stood, “He was acting strange, before he left Carthirose to pursue whatever compelled his behaviour. This is the fate that felled him...”
        Talinnius’s heart dropped in his chest. He stared blankly as if he had lost all power and conscious thought. A void consumed his gut as tears rolled down his face. How could this be possible? He asked himself.
        “Achamus was old and his strength was ebbing,” Quintis said as he turned from the body and met the young man’s eyes. “Still... he met someone or something with incredible skill. He may have been old, but, as you well know, his prowess was still beyond any other in our Order.”
        Talinnius sucked in a breath and his eyes fell onto the slab. His mentor, a Gods’ War hero, and the Champion Order’s commander lay on it. He whispered solemnly, “Achamus.”
        He approached the slab and stood beside Quintis. More tears rushed his eyes and spilled down his face. He could not pull his eyes away from the slack face. Somehow, this person on the slab did not look the same as the man Talinnius had spent his remembered years with - even though all the features were identical. Without life in the muscles beneath the wrinkled skin, the most familiar face in his life seemed more like a statue on a building lining Carthirose’s great avenues and streets. Age lines circled under the dead warrior’s closed eyes, like tree rings, and spoke to the sights the once living man had experienced. Despite the age in the grey skin, defined musculature still held its edge across his prone form, even in death. The gash that bisected the flesh across his torso - from shoulder to hip - was deep and grotesque. The skin’s edges were smooth as if opened with surgical care. Talinnius looked at the armour neatly arranged at the slab’s base and was astonished that it was split like a shear through fabric. Whatever tore through Achamus’s armour was something he had never seen before or thought possible. He recognized what caused the wound but could not grasp the how. It should not have been possible for such a weapon to do such damage to armour.
        “How could a sword do this, Quintis?” Talinnius asked. “How could it split a Champion’s armour with such ease? Our armour is almost impervious to all but the most direct blows.”
        “It is not something I have seen in some time,” Quintis said and paused. “I have not seen such a thing since the Gods’ War.”
        “Who did this, Quintis?” Talinnius asked with a dark tone.
        Quintis sighed, “Would you ride out from the capital to seek revenge?”
        “You know the answer to that.”
        “Yes, I do. That is why I must keep the knowledge.”
        Talinnius squared himself to the older warrior.
        “I am not intimidated by your youth or your skill,” Quintis remarked, before turning his steely gaze to meet Talinnius’s eyes. “Do not try to threaten me with your stature boy. You know full well how that will end.”
        Talinnius sighed and took a deep breath. His shoulders deflated and he took a step back. A fresh tear rolled from his eye as he turned to gazed on Achamus once more. The void in his chest opened and pain eagerly filled it, crushing his heart with renewed fury.
        “I’m sorry, Quintis,” He said after a long silence.
        “My heart hurts as well, Talinnius,” Quintis said, “But, we cannot lose ourselves to grief. Achamus would be disappointed in us if we did.”
        Talinnius nodded and remained quiet.
        “You will lead us now, Talinnius. I cannot have you running into the wilds, hunting something that will get you killed. I withhold my theories for now, to protect our Order and its new leader. Once your head is clear and grief is not so close, I will tell you what could have done this.”
        “Lead?” Talinnius asked.
        “It was Achamus’s and the council’s will for you to lead us after his passing. I agree wholeheartedly with that choice.”
        “I-I... can’t,” Talinnius stammered.
        “You can, you must, and you will,” Quintis said. “Come see me in the Throne Room, after you have paid your respects. We must report your ascension to the Emperor and the Senate, before any ceremony can take place.”

II

        Talinnius left the crypt and ensured the door was closed behind him - wanting Achamus to rest peacefully until the undertakers made his body ready. He felt cold, not just from the air in the underground tunnel. He was not sure how much time had passed since Quintis took his leave, but it felt significant. Time did not soothe the hurt in his chest and just seemed to hollow him out. He donned his helm and enjoyed the familiar sensation given from being fully enclosed in his armour. Pressure built in his shoulders as his thoughts trailed from grief to what was about to happen, and he was not ready for it; for what it meant. The burden of leadership was soon to be his and he had no idea what to do with it.
        Without haste, he made his way down narrow dark tunnel. The uneven cobblestone floor attempted to trip him in his distraction, but his body carried him without incident. Even with his heart broken, he was still a Champion within the Order and held a mastery over his body that few could dream of. In his youth, he was trained to death’s edge and pushed beyond the physical limits his body tried to keep him within. Age had not given him sanctuary from the trials that would destroy most men. His life was devoted to the skills he had gained as well as pushing them further and ever closer to perfection. When he was not heightening his limits in the Champion’s training yards, he was hunting the threats within and outside Carthirose’s borders. Although times were relatively peaceful – from a historian’s perspective - with no major wars on the Empire’s borders, in the recent past that was not the case.
        Without realizing his progress, the sun shook him from his revelry. He momentarily glanced down the stairs behind him; not remembering his ascent. The crypt’s gloom seemed alive and ready to crawl up after him. His imagination was playing tricks on him and he pushed the nerves away with trained practice. Training had taught him, control over his mind was just as important as control over his body. He moved on, more centered then when he first saw Achamus. The grief was still there, just stored, like dried goods for before winter.
        The shadows seemed to twist into a hungry smile behind him.

III

        Talinnius made his way through the courtyard. The palace was a vast display before him. It seemed impossible. No man should be able to build such a behemoth. The only structures that came close, but were still dwarfed, were the Senate House, Amphitheatre, and Colosseum. Curtain walls - as tall as a cliff’s face – were fogged at their heights by the distance from the ground. Still, the Palace’s peaked rooves could still be seen – peaking above for all to see. White stoned spires and towers attempted to touch the clouds with their reach, and triangular banners fluttered in breeze at various heights. He could not help but feel pride as he gazed at the eagle and tree motif on each crimson pennon. It was Carthirose’s sigil and majestic in its artistry as well as its simplicity.
        “Talinnius!” A familiar voice called from behind.
        “Cordia?” He said and spun to seek the speaker. “When did you get back?”
        She walked coolly towards him, and he could not help but admire her grace and poise with each step she took with her thick powerful legs. It had been a long time since he had seen her without armour and her loose robes did nothing to hide the sway in her hips and their curves.
        “Is it true?” She asked, ignoring his question.
        Talinnius removed his helm and met his oldest friend’s eyes, then nodded, “It is.”
        Cordia took his arm and guided him to a stone bench near the court yards perimeter wall, and well away from the patrolling guards’ ears. She sat down and played with the robe’s belt. Talinnius knew the feeling well. Every Champion felt uncomfortable without the dark steel plate armour covering their frame and he did similar gestures when he was unprotected. The armour was a second skin in a way. He guessed Cordia felt it the most compared to the rest in the Order. She had a dedication to the Order’s teaching beyond all others and that was an incredible feat. The Order housed the most skilled and accomplished warriors in the Empire. Each was trained from youth and made to be a weapon. The Order had fought in the Gods’ Wars, helped found the Empire, and took a prominent role in ensuring the Empire’s ongoing prosperity. There was a reason the other nations that bordered Carthirose called the Order’s members Demons. It was their martial capabilities, not their political status that gave them that appellation. Although, the Champion’s numbers were the lowest they had ever been, they were still an imposing force and individually skilled to a seemingly superhuman degree; causing them to become almost mythical as they were rarely seen outside the capital in any large numbers these days.
        “I never thought it possible... I came to find you as soon as I heard.”
        Again, Talinnius nodded but more funereal than before. The day was hot, but not unpleasant. He watched the fountains rocket water jets high into the air and the light caught in the droplets, which created rainbows amongst their mists. Birds hovered overhead. The sun had just passed its zenith and the cloudless sky did nothing to impede its light. All shadows were almost defeated, having crawled back to whatever casted them and hid until they could spread once more.
        “What happens now?” She asked.
        “I don’t know, Cordia,” He said.
        Cordia placed a hand on Talinnius’s lap. Talinnius met her gaze and enjoyed the depths in her blue almost white eyes. Her eyes were too big in comparison to her other facial features. Yet, somehow it made her more beautiful. Her cheeks were high, her chin narrow, and her lips full. Light chestnut brown hair - that could have been mistaken for a deep blonde - framed her face and was tied in a utilitarian ponytail at her neck’s base.
        Talinnius took her hand and squeezed. He broke their mutual eye contact when he began to feel lost and let her go, then stood. With a sigh, he ignored his desire to stay and announced his withdrawal, “Quintis will be waiting.”
        “When will your ascension be announced?” Cordia asked.
        He looked over his shoulder at her and said, “Ascension? Rumours travel fast.”
        “Despite what you think,” Cordia smiled, “There is no other to lead us. For once, Achamus did not hide his wishes. He wanted you to take charge. It's your own fault for not seeing it.”
        “Soon, the Senate and Emperor will likely want to make a show of it.”
        She chuckled, “Probably... Good luck you poor soul.”
        Talinnius smiled at her jest but did his best to ignore the mental dread that weighed on him. He did not want to command the Order and wondered if he was ready for the burden. His preference was to be second in command. Following Achamus’s lead had suited his strengths. He enacted his late master’s will without failure. Doing, not pointing, was his strength. He dreaded becoming stuck in the Capital and unable to protect Carthirose with his sword. Sending others into harm in his place was worse.
        He met Cordia’s large eyes one last time and the need to stay grew to an uncomfortable degree as he took his leave. He felt those eyes on his back and something stirred inside his chest that he could not explain.

IV 

        Talinnius marched down the narrow but high ceiling hall and saw Quintis standing close to the stone doors that blocked the portal to the throne room. The plain stone was white marble and veined with pale blue, which sparkled when light touched. Talinnius knew there were plans in the works to bring more ornamentation to the great double doors as well as other decorative features within the throne room. He also already knew he appreciated the simple smooth marble more than anything an artist could sculpt onto them. However, the new Emperor did not appreciate simplicity.
        Tiber Carth the Third was not like the previous two Emperor’s Carthirose had employed if the rumours were to be believed. The Senate had criticized him for lacking leadership and vision when compared to his predecessor, and father. To be fair, a similar could be said about Tiber’s father when compared to the First Emperor - who carved Carthirose’s original borders with blood, sweat, and misery as well as built the Old Defenses after the Gods’ War. But it was Tiber’s father, the second Emperor, who stretched the Empire’s lands beyond the Old Defenses and into new frontiers. It was He who negotiated a tentative peace with the Jaipenese to the East and He who bested the Great Northern Chieftian’s armies and scattered them back beyond the Northern mountains, giving his life for that cause.
        Since Tiber’s ascension to the throne, the Empire had ceased its conquests in the North and East and its newly professional Legions had become defensive in nature. This was a much different policy when compared to the first two – who sought conquest. Carthirose’s Empire was still young and fresh lands brought riches. Without those riches, the logistics to support the newly created Legions were crumbling and there were disgruntled rumours beyond Tettius mutiny. Disbanding was not an option as the recently conquered lands were far from stable and the Legions acted as a policing force.
        To make matters worse, the island nation, Jaipen, was beginning to ignore the peace and the barbarians beyond the northern mountains recently renewed their raids. Many believed these new raids were happening because Carthirose’s Legions had stopped their pressure on the foreign parties and moved away from their borders. A few border settlements had even sacked without retaliation. Although these raids took place in lands far from the Capital, the struggles were being felt in the Empire’s heart. Grain storage was beginning to dwindle as refugees fled, and trade was crumbling to dust.
        Talinnius had heard some parties within the Senate argue to renew offensives to push the invaders back, while others debated to refortify the Old Defenses and give up the lands recently conquered by Tiber’s late father. Talinnius did not have much patience for these debates, preferring to keep to himself and his duties. Achamus was the one with a mind for politics. He ensured the Champion’s Order was used for the Empire’s betterment and not for an individual’s cause. Talinnius hoped he could fill the gap Achamus had left but doubted it.
        “Quintis?” Talinnius whispered as he approached.
        The old warrior placed a finger to his lips and eased away from the closed doors to join Talinnius part way down the hall. Talinnius could see the unease in Quintis’s expression.
        “What’s the matter?” Talinnius asked.
        “It appears your ascension will not be a glamourous affair,” Quintis announced quietly. “The Senate is berating our young new Emperor for his failures to respond to the current crises in the East and the North.”
        “What!?”
        “Quiet,” Quintis raised his hand.
        “Sorry, master.”
        “I am not your master.”
        “I-” Talinnius stammered.
        Quintis interjected, “This development will make things interesting...”
        Talinnius felt that was an understatement. What little he knew about Tiber, was the Emperor had little command over his emotions, which was likely the reason the Senate was arguing with him. Achamus had often told him about the Senate’s desire to test the Empire’s Emperor. If rumours were to be believed, Tiber had not responded well to the upheaval on the borders and only kept the Legions’ support by increasing their coin. But with the treasury almost emptied, the increased pay was becoming a burden the Empire could not afford. One thing Talinnius knew about the Senate was their hatred when it came to spending coin and their anxiety when it came to empty pockets. He was thankful greed was not within the Order’s personality and did not understand the compulsion to have more than one’s needs. Luxury and money were a weakness. Both were foreign concepts and often caused Champions to look down on those who were prisoner to it. The Empire’s betterment was their reward and all they needed. His eyes darted to the doors as they were pulled open from within – disturbing his revelry.
        Richly robed men marched out in a horde with all the negative emotions one could imagine turning their scowling cragged faces. It felt like a mob’s tempest about to break out into a riot. They did not acknowledge Talinnius or Quintis as they marched down the hall. By their number, he guessed the entire Senate had forced its way into the throne room to confront the Emperor. That was a rare thing to see as it was customary practice for many members to not attend sessions and debates within the Senate’s house, at Carthirose’s heart, let alone gather in any great numbers within the palace. Traditionally, it was the Emperor’s duty to go to the Senate, not the other way around.
        The last man to leave the throne room was on middle age’s wrong side by a long way and was struggling with the pace the younger Senator’s set. The old man paused before the two Champions and seemed to debate whether to stay as only an old man could. Talinnius knew the man by reputation only and bowed deeply to show his respect.
        “You are Talinnius?” The Senator asked with a whistle on his word’s tail.
        Talinnius nodded.
        “It is good to meet you. I have heard many good things about you,” The Senator said. “How have you been?”
        One thing that did not show their age was the Senator’s eyes when they focused. They cut into Talinnius’s soul but were far from unkind. Within a few seconds, they read him as one might a book. He guessed they saw through any barrier and straight to the truth, similar to a beloved parent analyzing their child. It should have bothered him, but did not, as there was no scrutiny behind them.
        “Senator Proculus,” Talinnius said, “I am well, thank you. And yourself?”
        “If I did not know of your honest nature, asking me how I am after such a meeting could be taken as an insult,” Proculus chuckled. “These are tough times, and they keep me from restful slumber... to be truthful for once.”
        The Senator turned to Quintis and placed a hand on the old warrior’s shoulder, “Quintis it has been too long since we have spoken. I see you are none the worse for wear.”
        “I am well, Senator Proculus,” Quintis smiled with genuine warmth.
        “Still looking young, it must be all that exercise you Champions do,” Proculus said.
        “I assure you; I feel my age Senator. Us old dogs must stick together.”
        “I hope for Carthirose’s sake that is untrue. This Empire needs your arm strong, Quintis,” Proculus’s face turned grave, “Is it true about Achamus?”
        “I am afraid so, Senator,” Quintis’s expression grew dark
        “The Empire is a lesser place without him. I fear his presence will be missed in the coming days...”
        “He would be sorely missed no matter the Empire’s circumstances,” Quintis remarked.
        “Truer words have not been spoken,” Proculus said and turned back to Talinnius, “And so you will take up Achamus’s mantle of First Champion I assume?”
        Talinnius mouth gapped, “How-”
        “Achamus and the Order’s council has deemed it so, Senator,” Quintis interjected. “Only the ceremony remains.”
        Proculus’s brow furrowed in thought but a sardonic smile creased his face a moment later. It was a bittersweet expression and Talinnius knew the Senator meant no harm in it. The old man’s mind was dedicated to politics. He could tell that the Senator was determining what this meant for the Empire; both the benefits and consequences that would derive from his appointment, like a Gotess player out maneuvering an opponent in the strategic game.
        At last, the Senator spoke, “Carthirose will be grateful for your service, Talinnius. I trust you must speak to the Emperor about these Order matters. I very much doubt he is aware that Achamus has passed on to the next life. Until I saw the hard looks in your eyes and got your’s and Quintis’s confirmation, I assumed the rumours were not true. Who could believe that he could fall, afterall?”
        “As ever, your hearing and touch stretch far, Senator,” Quintis remarked. “We did our best to hide the precession to the crypt.”
        “I will take that as a complement, Second Champion,” Proculus said as he met Quintis’s hard gaze without hesitation.
        “It was not meant as an insult, Senator.”
        “I know, old friend,” Proculus gave a grandfatherly smile.
        “We must take our leave now that the Emperor is free from the Senate’s council,” Quintis said and saluted, by placing a fist to his breast.
        “Talinnius,” Proculus said, “I would speak to you when you are free to do so. Please come to my estates when you are able.”
        Talinnius nodded, “Yes Senator.”
        “Noble Champions,” Proculus announced, “I must return to my duties as well and catch up to the other Senators who are not as age stricken as myself. It did me well to speak to you both. Whenever I see one from your Order it makes me feel safe within this Empire and glad that you are not against it.”
        “It is our honour, Senator,” Quintis replied for himself and Talinnius.
        Talinnius watched Proculus take his leave. His respect for the politician grew beyond what he knew from reputation alone. He would never admit to it aloud as his opinion did not matter, but he felt men like Proculus should lead nations. They saw past themselves and did what was necessary to create some prosperity in the unending turmoil life brought.
        When Proculus was beyond earshot, Quintis whispered, “Be careful with that politician.”
        Talinnius raised a questioning eyebrow.
        “Never trust a man whose only skill is the manipulation of others. Even if their intentions are just, they would seek to bend you and the powers you wield to their will. Our duty is to be impartial to Carthirose’s politics. The Order does not serve the Emperor, nor do we serve the Senate. We serve the Empire. Carthirose’s interests are our only interests. We ensure any threats from within are ruthlessly put down just as those from without. That is our oath, Talinnius.”
        Talinnius nodded, “I know this, Quintis. I swore it and have not forgotten.”
        “Your youth makes you naïve,” Quintis said, “Be skeptical of everything. More so than ever - if the most powerful men in the Empire seek to make war on each other.”
        “War?”
        “Yes. Mark my words, if the Emperor does not improve in the Senates eyes, they have the authority to strip his powers if they act as a united front. If that balance shifts, we will have to keep an eye on more than just one tyrant.”
        “Does the Senate really have the focus to become tyrannical?”
        “Perhaps, if they can direct their efforts as one... the new Emperor is making them into that unified entity. Their coffers are becoming light and although I have some faith in Proculus, I have none when it comes to others with equal or more power as him within the Senate.”
        Talinnius nodded, not fully understanding.
        “Come, let’s give the Order’s will to the Emperor and get this over with,” Quintis said and marched towards the throne room without further pause.
        Again, Talinnius missed Achamus. He wished to relieve the stress that threatened his neck and shoulders within the Champion’s training yard. Unfortunately, he had no choice in the matter, and he reluctantly followed Quintis beyond the throne room’s large double doors.

V

        The Emperor had withdrawn from the throne to his office. Two Champions resided beside the office door, one flanking each side. Their skeletal helms followed their approaching brethren with cold impassive stares. The black steel armour, with its sharp edges and contours did not reflect the light that entered the throne room from above like metal. Instead, the material seemed to absorb. Gauntlets, ending with spiked fingers, rested easy on their sword’s pommels. Talinnius knew their relaxed posture was a guise that would be dispelled should any threat approach.
        Quintis moved past them without pause and they did nothing to bar his passage. Talinnius gave a curt nod to each as he passed, and they returned the gesture. He followed Quintis into the large square space beyond. He enjoyed the sun coming through the massive windows that lined two walls. They stretched from the floor to the ceiling with curtains, similar to the crimson banners hanging from the palace’s towers. The view beyond the windows gave a clear sight to rolling hills and small wood thickets stretched to the horizon. The Northern Mountains loomed as feint blue-grey monoliths and were almost invisible against the open sky backdrop. Majestic was the word Talinnius would use to describe it and he took a moment to appreciate the beauty.
        A massive fireplace dominated the wall to the right. It made a unique feature within the space, with its roughhewn black rock surface that was an opposite to the smooth white marble stone that made up the room’s walls, floors, and ceiling. Two richly adorn high backed chairs rested unoccupied and angled to face the fireplace. A small round table resided between the chairs and an untouched Gotess board was set to play. The only other furniture in the room was the Emperor’s desk. It seemed simple in design in comparison to the rest, even though the room was basic, aside from its incredible open scale. Beyond the desk, the Emperor stood with his arms behind his back and his attention directed to the scenic land beyond the windows.
        Quintis marched towards the desk without pause and Talinnius followed with a slight hesitation. He could feel himself tense and took a deep breath to center his thoughts. Anxiety was beneath him; he was about to lead the Order and was the most skilled swordsmen since Achamus. His training took hold and his mind cleared. He was ready for whatever was to come.
        “Emperor,” Quintis announced and bowed.
        Tiber turned his head slightly before returning his gaze back out the window, without a word.
        “My lord,” Quintis insisted.
        “I assume you know what the Senate intends?” Tiber replied.
        “Lord?”
        “Mark my words, they seek to dethrone me,” Tiber said with a melancholic chuckle, “Can you believe this treason?”
        “It is not our place to interject in politics, lord.”
        The Emperor finally turned. His eyes were shadowed and cold. He waved a hand dismissively and took to his seat behind his desk. Talinnius could have sworn he could see the brooding thoughts brewing in Tiber’s mind as clear as day as their eyes met.
        “Talinnius right?” Tiber asked.
        “Yes, Lord,” Talinnius saluted and bowed.
        “So, I finally am deemed worthy to meet Achamus’s mysterious apprentice. Where is Achamus anyway?” Tiber asked. “Normally, it is he who comes at the Order’s behest to boss me around.”
        “Lord,” Quintis said, through gritted teeth, “Achamus has fallen.”
        Tiber’s eyebrows peaked in surprise.
        “Talinnius will take leadership of the Order,” Quintis continued, “The Order’s council has decreed it.”
        “And what of my opinion?” Tiber asked. “Do I not get a say in this appointment? I believe I should. Is it not the Order who is sworn to defend my life?”
        “The Order is sworn to protect Carthirose and the Order chooses who to best serve, Lord,” Quintis glowered.
        Tiber was either oblivious to Quintis’s restrained outrage or ignored it; Talinnius was unsure which. Talinnius felt the Emperor’s dark eyes as they turned towards him once more. He met them without restraint but would have lied if he said he did not waiver. No matter what the rumours were about his competence, the Emperor had learned his father’s imposing presence and stare.
        “Why should you be appointed?” The Emperor asked.
        “That is not for you to ask, lord,” Quintis’s outrage was more direct.
        “Do you wield his swords as well, Quintis? I suspect he will not fill Achamus’s absence if this is the case. I would have him speak for himself, if that is okay with you, oh worthy Champion of the Order?”
        Talinnius could feel Quintis’s ire and wanted to end this game. With narrowed eyes, he stepped forward and felt something rise within him. With a confidence he only felt when exercising his will with a sword, he spoke with authority, “Lord, I understand your reservations. Our dealings have been minimal and never in person. Achamus put his faith in me and made me ready for this eventual appointment. I ask you to give me faith as well. I will not fail Carthirose.”
        The Emperor leaned back in his chair and peeked his hands under his chin. His eyes were cold, like a winter storm at night. They took in Talinnius, by scanning up and down. The silence bordered on the uncomfortable before Tiber finally broke it, “We will see, Talinnius. We’ll see...”

Thanks for reading! Hope you are enjoying the story so far! Leave a comment and feedback!

Brett