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Chapter 10 - Veturius

I

        There was no chance for the land to heal. Little more than a week had passed since the fires were set to ravage it. Trees, burnt black and feathered with grey, reached into the sky like ravaged hands. Thin smoke columns rose in slow moving funnels as if escaping from some hidden depths within the earth. Despite the time that had passed, small embers still glowed on ash piles and were buried within fissures wrought into the ground.
        The two riders blended in the bleak hellish landscape. Their black armour reflected no light, even though the sun managed to cut the through the smoke’s cover in tight rays. Ash billowed in a trail behind the hard pace the riders set for the horses. With a sudden jerk, the first rider twisted his reigns and his horse skidded to a halt; coals and loose, dry, earth scattered away from the hooves. The second rider stopped a few feet past the first and they dismounted in unison. Neither deemed the need to tie their mounts – the horses were expertly trained and would not stray. 

        Veturius took off his helm and looked at Attia as she moved to stand beside him. There was recognition in her eyes, and he knew she shared his thoughts. Tettius had always been a thorough soul. Whatever caused his betrayal, he enacted his vengeance with a tenacity that left a holocaust to both land and people. This land would bare scars for a long time and act as his legacy.

        Attia marched forward and Veturius smiled; she had always lacked patience. The pace she set was far from careless, but it was direct. This destruction’s heart was the town’s remains. It stood ruined and obscured by the haze like some great extinction event caused to an animal herd – still standing burnt out building husks standing out like flesh clean skeletons.
        Veturius replaced his helm and kept Attia in his periphery as he circled wide. He resisted the urge to draw his swords. The air felt wrong and not because it was laden with ash. It was as if an unseen presence watched from within the smoke haze, which hung over the land like a morning fog. He refused to be spooked by shadows. Talinnius had given him this duty. Their friendship had been forged during childhood as Order Aspirants. It was because Talinnius’s that he never gave up and that he was a Champion today. He knew full well, he would have never passed the trials if it were not for Talinnius’s strength.
        He shook those thoughts and feelings from his mind; then began to breath in a control rhythmic manner. The Trance crawled across his mind, like water questing along a flat surface. Emotion fell away into a dull background noise and he could feel his body in its entirety. He imagined this was how an apex predator must have felt on the hunt: focused, controlled, and vigilant.
        Attia fell from sight as the towns remains began to obscure his view. Within the Trance, he could hear her soft foot falls and measure where she was amongst the jutting burned out wood. It did not look like a town anymore, more like a burned-out forest. Only a few cross beams breached the gaps between the columns – showing what it once was.
        A wide and open road cut through the wreckage, straight into the towns heart. It was there that Veturius found the first corpse. The burnt remains were scattered, but not from wind or any other postmortem source. Although the flesh was blackened and cracked from heat, the remains' limbs were torn and flayed. He knelt beside the body and, with a careful touch, he shifted it with is taloned fingertips. Sundered flesh crumbled at his touch, leaving cracked bones behind.
        His eyes narrowed. The bone looked gnawed upon at its broken tip, as if a feral dog or some other wild beast chewed on the flesh before the flames consumed what was left. That did not seem to make any sense. His only theory was whatever animal did this would have been very desperate to brave the firestorm Tettius had caused in order to eat the remains.

II

        There were more bodies – all were equally perplexing. Only a slight minority were whole. Veturius studied those who were intact, and it was easier to identify what caused their demise. A Legionnaires gladius left a telltale sign when it landed. The wounds were wide and devastating. What confused him the most was that not all the remains were common folk. There were just as many Legionnaires with the same horrific wounds and mutilations. He could not piece it together, not just because the fires had burned the evidence away. The whole seen played out as chaos. The carnage reminded him of an army being routed and slaughtered in its retreat.
        Attia was outside his senses but he was not worried for his fellow Champion. She was an accomplished warrior and judging by the scene, he doubted there would be any troubles for them to find. Tettius had done his heresy in a manner Veturius would have not believed possible, if he were not here to witness the aftermath. He did not understand why there was a need to burn the bodies and the town after they were slaughtered. What also confused him was why the legionnaires in the town were also put to the sword. He found signs of Tettius’s Champion blade work on sliced armour and other remains just as often as he found the bite marks and Gladius wounds. He wondered if any other Champion within the order could enact such a free-for-all violence.
        Veturius had insisted on interviewing a few Legionnaires from Tettius’s rebellion before they were crucified, but they had yielded little information. All they could say was that only Tettius exited the town after it was set ablaze – all others who had entered the town did not return. Veturius wished a few Legionnaires had been jailed; more information could have gleaned with further interrogation, but it could not be helped. He knew full well none could be left to question.
        He pushed onwards and entered the town’s square. This area was the most intact, as the buildings were made from stone and cement in the town’s centre. Even still, the fire had made the structures soft and brittle. Cracks raced across the black soot-stained surfaces and many buildings had collapsed on themselves after losing their integrity to the flames.
        As he rounded a pillar, he sucked a breath in through tight lips. A mound dominated the square. Blackened bodies piled high on one another filled his sightline. Their mouths were agape, screaming soundless cries like some grotesque monument. Somehow, the flames did not devour their structure; aside from being black and cracked, he could pick out their individual features. Legionnaires, farmers, and townsfolk all were intermixed without any order or thought.
        How could Tettius manage such a feat? He asked himself but found no answer.
        Horror took hold in his core at the wanton devastation surrounding him. Death was no stranger to him, but massacre was a different story, especially when the majority were townsfolk and more so when it was caused by someone who had worn the same armour as he. The Order’s Champions should be honourable; to slaughter an enemy was one thing, to do this was another.

        The debris shifted behind him and Veturius spun with a dancer’s grace, in one fluid movement, drew a sword. Its silver-white edges danced like fire in the poor light. The ash fog swirled around him and dispersed as if blown by a wind. In the ruins, an open cellar’s door rattled in the breeze. His senses told him the door had been closed when he first entered the square. They also told him something was still alive.

III

        Without fear or hesitation, Veturius marched towards the cellar. However, he was not reckless in his approach, though to an onlooker they would have believed otherwise. The Trance widened his senses and if anything approached, he would feel it. At the cellar’s lip, he found that the ladder had been tipped inside beyond use; so, he dropped down with a slight hop. He fell into a crouch to absorb the fall impact. His eyes adjusted to the dark by the time he stood. After a quick scan, he pushed deeper into the space.
        No fire had touched the underground. Thick rectangular stones sided the walls and ceiling, while round flat ones made up the floor – all remained pristine with only dust coating their surfaces. Shelves, staged like a library’s, filled the space in rows. He was surprised that most of the food on the shelves was unspoiled and attributed it to the cold that permeated the air. His breath misted with each exhale as he eased through the shelves careful not to disturb anything. Shadows from the room’s corners reached for him as if alive, but his sword’s glow dispelled them.
        He heard it, in the furthest corner to his right. The sound happened so fast. If it were not for the Trance, he would have thought it his imagination. A breath; a pained sharp one.
        With care, he maneuvered closer to where the breath came from. His footfalls were soundless, despite the metal that enclosed his feet; there was no metal-on-metal rattle or the scraps on the stone floor. Not even the air seemed to move as he ventured closer to his target. In the last few feet, he angled his sword so that it was parallel with his collar bones, while he reached forward with his free hand.
        In the final few feet, rot filled his nostrils and almost made him gage. He briefly wondered how he had not smelled it before and stopped to refocus. The corner’s shadow gave a pained moaned and a pale hand – with black veins stretching inside like lightning bolts – reached out.
        Dirt crusted nails dug furrows into the stone as the long digits sought purchase. A second hand followed the first, but this one had been touched by the fire. Black and cracked skin wept putrid blood, leaving blemishes on the stone.
        Slowly, the shadows seemed to pull back – like a curtain being lifted for an audience’s enjoyment. Unfortunately, there was no actor on this stage; instead, a grotesque thing that, to Veturius’s eye, defied natures order crawled out into the pale light towards him. The tattered, black-burned flesh covered over half its body. Where the flames had not touch, the skin was the putrid white with forked jet veins. Hungry eyes glowed in the dim light and saliva strands flowed from its mouth’s corners. It rasped a voiceless cry as it pulled its half-ruined body forward with its one unburnt arm.
        Veturius took a step back. His hold on the Trance fell away as uncertainty and fear overtook his breathing. His logical mind screamed for him to resume the meditative state – knowing full well it was his only chance for survival – but the cold dread icing his veins refused to let him breathe.
        A shelf prevented any further flight. The solid barrier steeled his nerves. He took a deep breath as the thing’s long gnarled fingernails scraped against his greave. There was no time to resume the Trance, but he did not need it to strike as a normal man would. The creature clawed up his leg, dragging its limp body up and pressed its weight onto him. Veturius spun his sword into a reverse grip and took it in both hands. With clenched teeth, he raised the sword’s hilt above his head and aimed the tip towards the hideous creature’s upturned gaping fanged mouth.
        Silver white flashed across his vision, faster than he could follow. The thing’s face grew stupid and hits head rolled backward down its arched back. Black gore exploded from the open neck cavity and drenched Veturius. His stomach emptied at the blood’s sour and rotten bouquet. He pushed the seared corpse away and fell in the opposite direction. An arm embraced him from behind and he looked over his shoulder to see a helm that matched his own.
        “Attia,” He breathed with relief, but realized he was completely wrong as the breath settled in his lungs.
        The clawed hand around his chest tightened. His armour bent from the pressure the claw’s points put on the metal. Before he had any chance to react, he was spun to face the newcomer who easily stood a head taller than he.
        “No,” It said in two voices with hell’s depths laced in their tone. “Not Attia.”
        Veturius had no chance to respond. The newcomer’s hand gripped his throat with a force that stole his breath. He felt his feet leave the ground and his vision immediately blurred. A sword’s point – similar to his own – was pressed under his chin, where his helm gave no protection. Consciousness left him quickly and his last thoughts were driven by panic.
        Is this the last thing I will feel? He wondered.
        He managed to look down at the newcomer, one last time, as his vision turned to nothingness. Eyes with a fire’s raging intensity met his own. True fear overtook him in his final thought and what little air in his lungs escaped in a rasping squeal.

Thanks for reading!

Brett

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

Chapter 9 - Talinnius

I

        The circle.
        It was the shape that was basis to everything Talinnius knew. It was drilled and beaten into him continuously throughout his life.
        His childhood was spent walking the circle in the Training Yard’s sands, until blisters burst on his feet and, even after, he was forced to continue on raw feet without remorse; only when he was perfect could he rest. Overtime his feet healed and his soles became hard.
        In his teenage years, dull swords were thrust into his hands and new circles were taught as he swung them, until his hands became as callused as his feet. He was taught circles that overlapped each other and as he perfected them his muscles thickened as he grew into his full frame. He dueled those he grew older with and those who had mastered the Champion’s sword arts, perfecting his failings. The training only intensified as he gained mastery.
        He was thrust into the wilds and made to survive. With starvation knotting his stomach, his muscles shrank and became hard. He learned nature’s unforgiving harshness and began to understand life was also circle in that time. By watching everything from insects to the forest’s alpha predators, he was taught how to coexist with his environment and thrive without a single comfort.
        In all stages throughout his life, he had a choice to learn and see the circle, or to die – death was not an option; even if it would grant release to the horrendous pain his body was put through.
        Lastly, he was taught the Trance. He learned to cycle his breathing in its own circle. Within the circle he could push everything away and center himself in the Trance. Pain, discomfort, and emotion became meaningless distractions. His body could move faster and with more strength than any person ought to be able to. All the survival barriers the mind put over a person to prevent over exertion and self-induced harm were erased. He had no fear and no inhabitation to how far he could push himself.
        Only after he used the circles to take his first human life did he understand the weapon he had been forged into. It was easy to do, and he had done it again and again as adulthood took hold in the name of the Order and Carthirose.
        The Champions ranked themselves - it was an informal thing. Competition was encouraged and knowing who the best inspired those below to become greater. Achamus had always been the greatest, even as age stole his speed and strength. Although Talinnius would never admit it – he was too modest to even believe it – he knew the other Champions thought him as the next best.
        What he did know, is he killed the most often. Whenever possible, he would take on the executioner’s mantle and dispense the Order’s justice. It was not a pleasurable thing and he did not enjoy it – no Champion did. Every time it was hard and became more difficult to do as the years passed. He saw the dead in his dreams, and they looked back at him from across the Underworld’s crimson rivers and oceans. The pain from taking a life was a burden he sought so others would not have to. Maybe the consequence of his selflessness was skills with his swords.
        Thick veins pulsed across his limbs as he traced the circles with his feet and swords as fluidly as a dancer. Sweat coated his body and steam rose as the day’s early heat sought to evaporate the perspiration running along his chiseled frame. His muscles protested every action. They had been at work for hours without a rest, having started when the stars were alight and the sky dark. However, he did not feel their cramps or fire. At the circles heart was the Trance and the Trance made such feelings beneath him. He pushed through the hurt without even the slightest pause or exhaustive sign.
        His breath was even. Beyond the circles, he was taught breath was the most important thing. Not only did breathing sustain the Trance, but it also maintained it. The entire World sought to distract one from their centre. Enlightenment was found by accepting and overcoming that fact. Breath was the only way to stay at the circle’s centre and centre oneself. That is why the lungs and heart were found at the chest’s centre and breath was the calm to those organs. Everything else sprouted from them. To be at the centre was to be at peace and in peace, the Trance was found.
        In this state and deep in the Trance, Talinnius felt as if he watched his body move from above. It was as if his soul ascended to a bird’s view. The circles should have made him dizzy, but just like his burning muscles, he did not feel the sensation. This world view gave him the ability to see the oncoming threat as it approached, and the newcomer broke his solitude in the sand pit.
        Their swords clashed, but the circle continued without pause or flaw. Talinnius weaved around the blows and arced his blades with enough power to drive his foe away. His foe bent around his countering attacks in an almost casual, but nimble spin, before slashing outwards in a wide sweeping arc, which took away any momentum Talinnius had gathered and created separation. Talinnius relented and gave in to the newcomer, letting her go outside his twin swords’ reach. Despite the trance stealing his emotions, a grin twisted his lips upwards as he met the newcomer’s hard stare.
        “Cordia,” He greeted.
        “Talinnius,” Cordia acknowledged.
        Talinnius took a deep breath and refocused his mind. He flicked both his wrists in opposite twirls to ensure they were loose. Cordia mimicked the gesture and began to circle along the sand pits perimeter. Talinnius followed and edged inwards ever so slightly with each step. He knew she would not take his bait, but soon he would force her hand. Her excited smile sent a thrill along his spine.
        She was fast, almost impossibly so. If it were not for the trance, Talinnius knew his body would be missing its head. He redirected her decapitating blow with one sword and slashed with his other, in a diagonal uppercut. Again, Cordia contorted to dodge the blow, but this time, she retaliated by drawing her second sword and swept its razor edge towards Talinnius’s stomach. He rolled with the strike, crossing his arms, and used his first sword to guide the gutting blow wide.
        Their swords clamoured against each other, always using the blade’s flat facings to parry and counter in order to prevent sharp edges from notching. Talinnius dug his feet into the sand and pushed forward aggressively. His blows fell like hammers but were far from graceless. Cordia fell back and was like water - she spun and twisted with a grace that seemed inhuman. They reached a stalemate, strength versus agility. If there were any onlookers, the two combatants would have appeared as dancers locked in a choreographed ballet.
        Talinnius could not help but become enthralled by her movements – even within the trance where that reaction should have been subdued. How she swayed her hips and the elegance possessed in her footwork lulled him into her trap. She parried his vertical cut and twisted to his side. Talinnius did not have time to take the breath his body demanded as he reacted to reposition himself. His eyes watered and the circles were interrupted. He stopped his momentum with all his strength, and it jarred his muscles to do so. If his balance was not perfect, he would have stumbled, a death sentence in a duel with this intensity. A gasp left his throat as he craned backwards as far as his hips would let him. Her blade flashed – silver white – millimetres from his throat.
        No longer distracted, Talinnius broke the engagement and circled away to the sand pit’s edge. Sand settled in his flight, but a thin haze from smaller dust particulates marked the extraordinary speed the duel was fought at.
        “You are getting better...” Talinnius breathed and let the Trance go. With its absence he felt the fire in his muscles. His stomach rumbled from hunger and thirst. Sweat dribbled down his body and sizzled as it dropped onto the sun-stricken sand.
        Cordia smiled like a seductress and said, “You got distracted.”
        Talinnius felt a flush in his cheeks. He met her large eyes and enjoyed their intense stare. Something he did not recognize stirred in his chest. The feeling was beyond good, but its foreign nature was concerning. He pushed it away and took a long breath to centre himself once more. With the Trance resumed, his eyes narrowed and focus. “It has been too long since we have been able to do this,” He said.
        Cordia lowered her gaze and smiled, “It has.”
        In a blink their swords flew at each other once more.

II

        Talinnius leaned against the wall. The yard was in full activity as his fellow Champions took to their training. Whenever he was in the capital it was his practice to watch the others and always enjoyed their individual pursuits for perfection. The Order understood perfection was not one thing, but many. It was an unending quest. Perfection lay with mastering one’s strengths and pushing to new limits in all endeavours they took.
        Cordia sipped water from a simple clay cup, beside him. She smiled as their eyes met. This was a customary practice for them; to stand aside and spend the little free time they had with each other; if their duties allowed them to be in the same space. Their conversations were often simple, and just hearing each other’s voice gave a guilty pleasure. It was a practice they had developed as children, when they were first brought to this place and began their training to become Champions within the Order. Talinnius often wondered why he had always been drawn to her. It was an unconscious force. The only time he felt truly whole was when she was near.
        He returned her smile, before looking back out to the other’s train. An invisible weight pushed against his shoulders, tightening them. Soon he would be responsible for all. His command could very well send these people to their deaths. The thought was unsettling, and he could not find comfort in holding that power. He twisted his head, ear to shoulder, both ways to loosen the tension crawling in his muscles.
        “Are you okay?” Cordia asked.
        Talinnius wanted to say, yes but could not bring himself to lie. “I do not want the power that I will be given. Leading these men and women is beyond me.”
        Cordia smiled as only a friend who knew everything about the other could and said, “Talinnius, you are the only choice for this.” 

        Talinnius looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
        Cordia continued, “Achamus has been training you for this. Why do you think he spent so much one on one time with you in study and brought you everywhere his duties led?”
        “My words could lead to their deaths,” Talinnius said and pointed with his chin to the bustling yard.
        “Do they not already? You told me you sent Veturius and Attia to discover why Tettius did what he did? Was that not sending them to their potential end?”
        “I-I did not think...”
        “And you have sent me on far more dangerous tasks then that in the past... or am I expendable compared to the Veturius and Attia?”
        Talinnius glowered at her playful grin, “This is different.”
        “How so? Seems the same to me. Achamus had no say in those decisions and trusted you to make them.”
        With a sigh, Talinnius relented the point but it did nothing to lift the weight from his shoulders. “I guess, the difference is it all falls on me now. The Order’s wellbeing in the current and the future is dependent on what direction I choose. Achamus was always there to guide me if I strayed...”
        “We’ll be here to guide you,” Cordia said. “All the people in this yard, the Champions of the Order are here to ensure the future. When you become First Champion and the Council is disbanded – it does not mean you will be alone in this. It is our strength, the Order’s strength, that we all have a voice, yours is just the final voice to be heard. Is that not what Achamus taught and did? To listen as much as you can and speak when necessary after all others have spoken?”
        “I worry about my strength to speak when it is necessary.”
        “What do you mean?”
        “The New Emperor... I met him for the first time yesterday. He is forceful and Quintis did most of the talking. There is more to Tiber the Third then anyone gives him credit for. I saw it in his eyes.”
        “Tiber’s father was unique to the role. It is not often that the master gets to know his servants as he did. Our new Emperor is vastly different. I have the impression he wants to rule as a king.”
        “Servants?” Talinnius raised his eyebrow once more.
        “We are servants to Carthirose’s Empire are we not? Is not the Emperor an authority within that Empire? One who we are sworn to protect from all harm. Afterall, only we can carry weapons in his presence.”
        “Except our own. That duty you speak of also instructs us to assassinate the Emperor, should he subject Carthirose to tyrannical rule. We serve the Empire’s people first.”
        “Do the people get to know us? Or do they shuffle from our paths when we walk the streets?”
        Talinnius grinned, “You are trying to be difficult.”
        “I am glad you still have some wits; leadership tends to make men stupid.”
        “What about women?”
        Cordia’s brow furled in a playful seriousness, “You know full well I could have taken your spot as First Champion and Master of the Order while you were too busy looking at my hips as we dueled this morning.”
        “I’ll be sure to sleep with one eye open.”
        “Best that you do. You know full well I am the most technically sound with the sword in the Order and, also, ambitious.”
        “You lack imagination though,” Talinnius baited.
        “Would you care to back those words?” Cordia said.
        “Let’s,” He grinned.

III 

        Talinnius nursed the wounds Cordia had given him. He had won the bout, but only just. However, he took more punishment than her in order to achieve victory. First blood from the torso was their usual terms, and he had managed a slight cut to Cordia’s clavicle in the duel’s decisive moments. It was by no means a death blow. He could not help but wonder if the duel’s terms were more severe, who would win.
        With careful pressure, he cleaned the wounds along his arms and legs. They were not severe but stung and bled due to their depth. After properly dressing them, he took on simple robes and made his leave from the Champion’s barracks.
        Although the barracks housed the greatest warriors in the known world, it was a simple place. There was no ornamentation on the walls and what little furniture there was, was simple with little thought for comfort – especially if function was at risk. The rooms to the hall’s either side were little more than cells, similar to those found in the dungeons.
        The barracks opened to the training yard, which was the only other space allotted specifically to the Order. Compared to the palace, the barracks and yard were insignificant in size. The courtyards at the palace’s entrance easily quadrupled the Order’s space and the throne room alone was as big. This did not bother Talinnius or any other within the Order. To sleep in the barracks was a luxury, as duty often took the Order’s Champions to the Empire’s roughest and most inhospitable lands.
        He stared at the palace’s great spires and structure as it loomed over the yards far side. It was impossibly vast and its scale defied perception. In some ways it looked smaller than it actually was; due to the size some parts appeared closer than they actually were, while others seemed so far that they appeared indistinct and fogged by the distance but, in reality, were close. Talinnius had always wonder how men could build such a thing. He wondered the same about the Senate House, the Circus Hippodrome, and the Coliseum; even the Temple of the God’s that resided on the cliffs, which overlooked the Eternal City, well beyond the Capital’s walls. He wondered about all the great wonders within Carthirose’s civilization. Some came from a time before the God Wars, such as the aqueducts, which were made by men whose bones were likely dust but had been rebuilt to a grander scale by the First Emperor, or the Great Library of Arthexandra that was built by the First Emperor to commemorate his rule.
        However, the Palace was still greater than all and its immensity made him feel small, which made his unease about his coming appointment worse...

IV

        For once, Talinnius did not pay attention to the journey. His mind was preoccupied with recent events. His feet knew where to go and he let them take him. This was not the norm and went against all the lessons drilled into him throughout his life. In this case, he could not help it; he was still human, and his attention could be stolen by turmoil on rare occasions.
        Cordia had help during their conversation, but a new revelation twisted his mind after they parted ways. He was ashamed his insecurity about becoming First Champion overshadowed Achamus’s passing, and the grief tied to that loss. It was a knot in his gut that he could not untie.
        Soon there would be a funeral, now that all the senior members in Carthirose’s society were aware that the former First Champion rested in the next life. Talinnius did not look forward to that event. It would be a great fanfare and the whole city would express their anguish. Achamus was a great man and well loved by the people. Talinnius knew Achamus would have preferred to leave in silence though. But that was an impossible request. Achamus was the last to see the Empire’s founding and was the last survivor who fought in the Gods’ wars. No other could claim to have been as instrumental too Carthirose’s creation. If it were not for him and the first Emperor, the great city Talinnius strolled through would not exist – let alone the surrounding lands and culture. Though Carthirose’s foundation was the ancient bones from another great city, they rebuilt the Eternal City into a splendor which had never been seen on the World. Achamus and the First Emperor made the World greater rather than squabbling over a carcass like the other nations that rose after the God’s War – or so the historical scholars wrote. They progressed civilization rather than regressed and that attitude was carried forward as the Empire’s national identity to this day. It was an amazing thought, how one or two people could shape the World and leave their mark to forever change it.
        Before long, Talinnius found himself outside a walled villa, which gave him a palace’s impression. It was nowhere near as great as Carthirose’s Palace, but the villa’s size and obvious luxury made up its own splendor just the same. Vines and other greenery covered and lined the walls, which obscured the white stone beneath. Vibrant red flower bushes – housed in massive pots decorated with myths and legends – lined the walls heights every few feet. The bushes intermixed together to form an arching hedge that reminded Talinnius of an aqueduct.
        The rich coral pink gates opened as Talinnius approached without prompt.
        “Lord,” A servant addressed. “You are expected, noble First Champion in Waiting.”
        “I am no lord,” Talinnius said, “But I thank you for your prompt service.”
        “It is my pleasure, First Champion in Waiting.”
        The servant beckoned him forward and Talinnius bowed his head in thanks as he crossed the entrance’s threshold. Another servant arrived as the first closed the gates and bowed low. Talinnius recognized the mute’s brand on the new servant’s bare chest. The mute gestured to follow. Talinnius smiled in thanks and the mute spun to face the villa, before marching towards it at a formal pace.
        Talinnius never understood why the nobles took the voices from their most loyal servants. It was said, this practice was done to ensure they could not speak their master’s most intimate secrets, but Talinnius felt they would have no trouble writing them. Also, if they were the most trusted, should they not be able to be loyal? His life was vastly different from Carthirose’s nobles and he often found it difficult to interpret their culture. Even though he spent more time with the rich due to his position, he understood the lower classes with more affinity.
        The cobblestoned path veered left and right at the villa’s entrance in a crossroads. The mute turned to meet Talinnius’s gaze once more and bowed like a performer. He swept his arm outwards to point right in a theatrical way that Talinnius deemed unnecessary. It was another cultural piece he did not understand within rich society. Protocols to make interactions longer were anathema to him. The Order trained to make each movement as efficient as physically possible, whether it be walking or slaying an opponent.
        Talinnius followed the right path and found Proculus was in his gardens – seeding freshly turned soil. Garden did not do justice to the exotic jungle-like plant life that grew in ordered rows in some areas and foreign unorganized bunches in others. Other servants milled about nearby, ready to serve their master with food and drink, while others helped in the garden by churning black earth and planted their own seeds. Rich soil aromas filled the air and pollen made the earthly smell sweet.
        “Talinnius,” Proculus greeted with a wave.
        “Senator,” Talinnius bowed his head with a fist to his chest.
        “Please, Please,” Proculus said, “Such ceremony is unnecessary. I am pleased that you were able accept my invitation and to come speak with me. I was afraid you would be too busy in your new role.”
        “Not much has changed yet. After the funeral I will accept my new responsibilities.”
        “That is good. Achamus should be honoured first.”
        “I agree, Senator.”
        Proculus waved to a servant and the boy approached, back straight, at a dignified pace. The boy held a silver tray with ornate cups – made from a red tinted metal Talinnius could not name. When the boy reached his master’s side, Proculus took the cups and offered Talinnius one. Talinnius accepted the cup graciously and admired the details wrought into the perfectly smooth, almost slippery, metal. Figures sculpted in impossibly fine detail danced along the cups lip, while mythical creatures roared and wrestled each other along its base. Carthirose’s proud eagle and tree sigil was entrenched seamlessly in between on the flat surfaces.
        “Cheers,” Proculus smiled.
        Talinnius lifted his cup and tapped it against the Senator’s, then took a sip and was pleased it was only water. He was not in the mood for wine or any other finery – Though, this water vintage was crisp and clear; only in the mountains had he tasted its equal. His second sip was a polite gulp, and he enjoyed the coolness it gave his throat and stomach as it ran down.
        “This is very good,” he said.
        Proculus smiled, “A particular eccentric legion engineer found an ingenious way to filter and cool the water using piping in the earth. I am unable to explain the process, but I am able to enjoy the fruits of the labour.”
        Talinnius returned the smile and finished the glass, “Thank you for the drink, Senator.”
        “Proculus please,” Proculus said, after taking the cup from Talinnius and placing it, as well as his own, back onto the tray. The boy bowed and backed away.
        “Proculus,” Talinnius corrected.
        “I trust your journey here was pleasant? I am told you walked.”
        “Your villa is still within the Capital’s walls. It was not far.”
        Proculus chuckled, “Of course. Excuse my decorum. I forget those within the Order are uncomfortable with the pleasantries of small talk.”
        “It is not that we are uncomfortable. We are taught to only speak as necessary from a young age. Small talk is not something we practice.”
        Proculus nodded his understanding and maintained a neutral, unreadable, smile. “I will get to the point then.” He paused as if for dramatic effect, “I will be honest with you Talinnius, I am worried.”
        “About?”
        “There is unrest in the capital. You only just became a witness to it. A power struggle is beginning. It is in its infancy, but just like a newborn babe, it is growing. The Senate and the Emperor are about to collide. This collision will test our Empire and test Carthirose’s strength to its very core,” Proculus’s voice took on a politician’s guise and inflection. Each word was spoken perfectly and with appropriate emotion to express their gravitas.
        “What part am I to play is this conflict, Proculus?” Talinnius asked. Quintis’s warning about Politician’s rang in his ears and he grew cautious. “The Order does not take sides in political bouts. We protect the Empire from threats within and without. That is our duty.”
        “Are politics not the biggest threat to the Empire?”
        “Are you suggesting I should slaughter the Senate and the Emperor in order to protect the Empire?” Talinnius raised his eyebrow.
        Proculus laughed, “My good sir, for once the rumours speak true. You are a no-nonsense man and have a head on your shoulders. This pleases me. Achamus left us in good hands.”
        “I hope so,” Talinnius said.
        “All I intend to do is offer my hand in friendship and act as an advisor, noble First Champion in Waiting,” Proculus extended his hand outwards. “The politics of Carthirose are complicated. Sometimes, too complicated. You will need friends and advisors such as myself in order to navigate them.”
        “All men who seek power make things complicated,” Talinnius said as he accepted the offered hand. “But I think you for your friendship Proculus. I wish only to do what is right for Carthirose, what is right for the Empire and the people.”
        “Noble to the core,” Proculus smiled sardonically as he let the handshake go, “It is my hope that you keep your nobility in your new rank. Carthirose always needs men of character to be an example and to stand up to men who have none.”
        “Are you a man of character?” Talinnius asked with narrowed eyes.
        “In some ways, yes, in others... perhaps not.” Proculus waved to the villa, “I am not sure I could live without luxury. I have grown accustomed to this lifestyle and grown old in it. However, I try to be a man for the people. I am not like your Order, Talinnius. I could not live in cramped quarters and swing swords all day to strengthen my body. I fight a wholly different war and it requires different skills. Also, I will admit that I enjoy my finer lifestyle because to do otherwise would be disingenuous. I have never proclaimed to be a man of the people, but I try to be a man for the people. ”
        Talinnius chuckled, “Few can live as we Champion’s do, and we would be uncomfortable to live as you do.”
        “I would agree to that statement if even half of what I knew to be true was. My battlefield is the Senate house. My luxury could be burned away, and I could be thrown into a smaller cell than you sleep in, should the people rebel. The people hold the power and I try to remind those around me about that fact. If we do not meet their needs and ensure they are fed... well a hungry soul can be driven to desperate acts.”
        “I have seen such things.”
        “I can only imagine,” Proculus nodded, “I have seen it as well. Is that what happened in the west?”
        Talinnius swore at himself having let his guard down for a moment and raised his defenses once more, “Quintis did not make light of your reach, Senator.”
        Proculus patted Talinnius on the shoulder, “Quintis is a smart man. Do not let it trouble you. My reach is far, and I hear further still. Knowledge keeps me alive in my war.”
        “Forgive me,” Talinnius said, suddenly uncomfortable. He did not like being outplayed or ambushed, “But I will not speak of the west. It is another tragedy the Empire is facing without reasons as to why.”
        “I understand.”
        “Forgive me again, Senator,” Talinnius straightened, “but, I must take my leave.”
        Proculus smiled warmly. It reminded Talinnius of an old man enjoying the summer’s heat on a bench by a pond. He also saw through it and knew the Senator had made him uncomfortable on purpose, despite the friendly outwards demeanor. He did not enjoy being tested in such a way and cursed himself for coming while distracted.
        “I understand. Will you visit again?” Proculus asked sorrowfully.
        “I will,” Talinnius paused to regain his composure, “This was an illuminating conversation.”
        “I have no doubt,” Proculus clapped his hands, and the mute strode into the garden. “Please escort the First Champion in Waiting to the gate.” He turned back to Talinnius, “And please join me for dinner when you are able.”
        “Thank you for the invitation and the hospitality today, Senator Proculus.”
        Talinnius bowed low and took his leave. He marched behind the mute, deep in thought. The conversation had unsettled him, and he hoped he was able to keep his face from registering that discomfort. He would take Quintis’s warning about this politician more seriously but also refused to hide. It would be best to keep these powerful men under close watch and he felt Achamus must have done the same.
        The mute bowed deeply at the open gate and Talinnius nodded his thanks. Talinnius decided going back to the Champion’s compound could wait. He would travel as a simple citizen through the streets for a while and give himself the quiet to think.
        Shadows grew behind him as he strode to the poorer districts at the hills base. It crawled across the ground, as if chasing to catch his long strides.

If you like the story so far, share it with a friend and Thank you for reading!

Brett

 One Hour Paint 2021-02-08

Another one hour paint. Sometimes there is just an urge to draw death.

Let me know what you think, hope you enjoy!

(click to enlarge)

~ Brett

One Hour Paint 2021-02-07

Trying out some speed painting. See what I can get done in 60 minutes. Pretty happy with my first try and was a fun exercise. Will definitely do this more often. This is a Knight's Templar from the crusades. Let me know what you think :)

(click to enlarge)

 ~ Brett