He had been a Black Knight before he had met Amaria. Only two years prior he was fighting in the trenches of North Barus, trying to assist the Barusian rebels with their opposition against the country's great houses and the tax levies they imposed in addition to those of the Empire.
The war was brutal and left an impression on him. He saw his friends killed, shot his own share of Govian and Barusian soldiers, and nearly died himself when a canister of "Grim" a weaponized chemical gas, burst in front of him. He escaped that war, that way of life with Amaria and with the terrible and intense opposition of his parents, he left the Army and became a citizen of the Govian Empire.
He looked down at his son and shook his head. He knew he had made the right decision, that if he hadn't betrayed his family and abandoned his duties, then Roc never would have been born. He was happy with his sleeping son; he never could have asked for more of a blessing than Roc, "You are such a…”
“Beautiful boy..." A deep and unknown voice suddenly, though gently, filled Rubaan's ears and finished his sentence. Rubaan felt a strange sort of breeze against his skin and a chill ran down his spine. As the hairs on his arm rose, he quickly hopped from the bed and spun around in place to find that there was nobody else there.
“Who is there?" Rubaan croaked as he scanned the small room with wide, fearful eyes. He was confused; the room was small, barely big enough for his bed and dresser. There was no closet and no curtains… nowhere to hide.
Rubaan's first impulse was to doubt himself. Perhaps it had just been the pipes; perhaps he was vividly hearing a memory. He shook his head and panted for he was certain that he had heard somebody speak. He dropped to the floor and looked under the bed. Nobody was there...
“Well, what the Hells..." Rubaan finally whispered. He rubbed his forehead with his fingers and felt nervous as he looked around the room once more. He resolved that he was perhaps spending too much time in the mines with his coworkers and was beginning to hear one of their voices reverberating in his head. He sighed at the thought; he needed to keep himself together. He needed to request more time off before he went mad.
“I love you Roc," Rubaan whispered as he turned toward his son once more. He reached out and touched Roc's tiny head, “Daddy will always love you."
Rubaan turned to walk out of the room and felt the light, barely present breeze blow past him and oddly enough he thought he heard the sound of laughter come from it. It was not joyous like a child’s laughter, nor was it pleasant. Something about the sound left him uncomfortable and made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up.
Rubaan paused with the doorknob in his hand. He looked at his son once more and he hesitantly closed the bedroom door.
“Open up!” a male voice suddenly shouted from behind the front door. A fist pounded against the wood and made Rubaan jump, “This is the Inquisition. We command you to open the door!”
Rubaan hurried to the living room and saw that Amaria was already standing in front of the white door that led to the apartment hallway. She turned to look at him and shook her head as she begrudgingly, yet obediently pulled the door open.
“Take a seat," the black and blue uniformed Inquisitor commanded as he stepped into the apartment. He wore light black armor over his clothing and had a visored helmet over his head. A pistol was at his hip and a baton was in his hand, “This is a fidelity check, your cooperation is required."
Amaria lowered her head and cautiously spoke, “May I get my baby?” she asked softly, “He is asleep in my room."
“You can sit, citizen," the Inquisitor sternly commanded as he reached his gloved hand out and pointed to the red sofa, “Sit and wait. No harm will come to you or your child."
Amaria nodded submissively and walked over to the sofa with a lowered head. Rubaan, with a pounding heart and boiling blood, quickly raised his hands and joined his wife.
“It is okay," Rubaan whispered as he tried to reassure his wife, “They will be gone soon." Amaria scoffed and glared at Rubaan with a spiteful shake of her head. Fidelity checks always triggered her anger, and unfortunately for her husband, she always took it out on him.
“Just be quiet,” she spat, “I am sick of this."
Rubaan pursed his lips together and lowered his head. He watched as the black and blue uniformed inquisitors searched through the house, scanning things with small devices and recording their findings in small books.
“Stand, citizens," one of the Inquisitors said as he approached Amaria and Rubaan. The two of them obediently stood and held their arms straight out as was protocol.
“Hold still," the Inquisitor ordered as he patted each of them down. Rubaan’s pat-down came and went quickly but Amaria’s lasted longer than either of them were comfortable with.
Rubaan watched the Inquisitor out of the corner of his eye. He grit his teeth with anger as he watched the Inquisitor cup his wife’s breasts with his hands. The Inquisitor, whose face was hidden behind the shield of his helmet, caressed Amaria’s body and reached behind her, sliding the tips of his fingers into the back of her pants.
“That will do," the fondling Inquisitor’s superior calmly declared as he stepped up. He had clearly noticed what was going on but saw no need to chide his subordinate, “You go wait in the hall, record your findings."
The Inquisitor nodded to his superior and turned toward the door. The ranking officer watched and then turned toward the citizens, as they were called.
“You two may sit," the superior said to Rubaan and Amaria, "Please, get comfortable. Do you need me to fetch you something to drink?"
The husband and wife took a seat on the couch behind them and lowered their heads, "No sir," Rubaan whispered as the darkly clad Inquisitor walked in front of them and took a knee, "We are fine Sir."
"Very well," the Inquisitor hummed as he rifled through the pages of a small notebook he carried with him, "It has been what? Two weeks since our last fidelity check?”
“Correct," Amaria whispered. She searched her mouth with her tongue, looking for the fangs she once had and snarled when she found none. She wanted to leap out and tear the Inquisitor's throat out, to bathe in his blood as he writhed in pain and begged for mercy.
“So to recap," the Inquisitor said, his voice muffled by the shield over his face, “This is the Jamiso household… a name that the Empire is not fond of. Your father and living brothers are as we have spoken about in the past… rather elusive trouble."
“Yes," Rubaan replied, “But I devoted my family to the Empire. I saw the light and was baptized into the bosom of Dura’Ana. I accepted her grace and was shown forgiveness through our savior Emperor Cidro. Amen."
“You have attended services on time I see," the Inquisitor noted as he looked down at his notebook, “You have paid your tithes and your taxes, how is the child?”
“Healthy," Rubaan nodded and gave the Govia a fake smile, “Happy… he just started smiling, he…”
“I do not care," the inquisitor waved his hand dismissively. He scribbled something else down with his pen and sighed.
“You are on the path to righteousness Rubaan Jamiso," he hummed emotionlessly, “Do not let your devotion falter. We are just."
“We are true," Rubaan replied and nodded his head.
“Wonderful," the Inquisitor declared as he stood, “Then I will collect our fee and be on our way…" Amaria looked over at Rubaan and Rubaan sighed.
“I... do not have the full balance today Sir…" Rubaan said as a wave of dread came over him, “I can only partially pay,"
“How unfortunate," the Inquisitor replied with a disappointed tone, “Mister Jamiso, you do understand we were lenient with you last time, correct? You are aware that if the fees are not collected, then I am not compensated for my time? I too have children, Mister Jamiso. If I am not paid, my children do not eat. Do you understand this?"
“I do," Rubaan replied with his head lowered, “And I am beyond grateful for your grace. I just don’t make…”
; “Do not," the Inquisitor hissed, correcting Rubaan’s grammar, "You are a citizen of the Govian Empire now. Though you may live in and provide your family with these abhorrent accommodations, you must show some element of pride. There is no need to speak like gutter trash."
“My apologies Sir," Rubaan quickly whispered with a grimace, “I do not make very much money. What I do not spend on rent and bills goes to food…”
“Mister Jamiso there are Imperial need-based services in place to assist you," the Inquisitor snapped, “The Empire does not thrive nor is order maintained through leniency of our laws. We are just, Mister Jamiso, but we require your cooperation… I like you. I want you to flourish amongst the citizens of the Empire but I will not stand for any more shortcomings. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir," Rubaan nodded rapidly, “Of course sir."
"Very good," the Inquisitor's tone stabilized and he nodded gently. He suddenly slammed his stun baton into the side of Rubaan's head. Rubaan screamed with surprise and pain and his body stiffened at the sudden jolt. As he writhed in agony, the Inquisitor hit him a second time and he slumped to the floor.
"It pains me to do this to a working-class citizen!" The Inquisitor hit him again, "But you must learn, Mister Jamiso." He swiftly hit his baton against Rubaan's neck three more times and turned to Amaria.
"Please," she begged with watering eyes. The Inquisitor ignored her and jabbed her in the chest with the baton. She cried out and her body lurched in pain as he struck her a second time and then he collapsed his baton.
“Consider this your final warning," the Inquisitor said calmly, "I will return again, have one and one-half times your balance or face jail time."
“Y… yes sir," Rubaan rasped. He coughed and pushed himself up of the floor. As he found himself on his knees, he raised his hands and gasped for he still felt the effects of the jolt, “I will, Sir."
“Very good," the Inquisitor nodded as he looked down at Rubaan, “I thank you for your continued devotion to the Empire. We are just."
“We are true…" Rubaan panted. The Inquisitor nodded and walked out the door leaving Rubaan and his wife behind.
Rubaan caught his breath and looked over at Amaria. She sat silently panting with her dark red lips pursed and a stone cold expression glued to her face.
“It will be okay," Rubaan assured his wife. He reached his hand out and grabbed hers. She quickly snatched hers back and scowled at him.
“Do not fucking touch me," she hissed as she stood from the ground. Her anger had flared, just as it always did after the Inquisitors visited, "I am beyond tired of this shit!" She stormed away from her husband toward their bedroom. Without another word, she disappeared inside and slammed the door behind her.
Rubaan remained alone and he plopped himself down on the couch. He sat and silently shook his head as he looked down at his hands. He felt inadequate, emasculated… he sighed and laid down, staring up at the ceiling.
“Find me," a whisper of a voice suddenly said. It was the same voice he had heard in his room earlier. Rubaan sat up and looked around but there was nobody else in the room. There couldn’t have been. There was simply no way into his concrete cubicle of an apartment apart from the front door. He shook it off a second time and laid back down. Just as he closed his eyes, he heard the voice call out once more.
Chapter Four
Alec I
21st of Ramlia – 346AG
10:00 – Black Knight Base 21
The memorial flame was slowly shrinking, leaving behind only the glowing coals that sat beneath it. A single hand reached out, eager to feel what warmth he could. He hoped to somehow feel closer to the friend he had lost, to the one who the flame was burning for. Unfortunately, he felt nothing but heat. He knew the truth, that he would never again enjoy the company of his battle brother and that left his sightless eyes moist with sadness.
Alec Flinn was neither stranger to death nor loss. He had slain his fair share of enemies and lost more than enough friends in his lifetime. He knew the world he lived in was a dangerous and unkind home. He knew the emotional risk behind getting close to somebody but unlike the one whom he considered his best friend, he found no trouble taking that risk.
Crinnan Jamiso had been like a brother to Alec. They had both spilled enough blood on each other to call themselves kin. Alec had spent nearly his entire life with Crinnan and now that he had gone, now that Alec was alone, he felt somehow like he had lost a part of himself.
For as long as he could remember, he and Crinnan had been the best of friends. They were for the most part inseparable as they had both enrolled in the Academy as children at the behest of their lord fathers. They grew up together learning the ways of combat in the “Future Centurions” program designed by the leaders of the famous Century Squad. They were among the first of the graduates of the program and quickly found a place as squires in the elite squad. In 342AG they, along with their good friend Elia, advanced from squires and into the position of Knights of Century Squad.
He stood with a slouch next to the burning pedestal and frowned. It was a different look for him as anyone who knew him would say he usually stood tall and never lacked warmth in his expressions. Alec, in general, was motivated and optimistic. The death of Crinnan, however, left him a shell of what he usually was.
Alec was an imposing man, standing just under six and a half feet. You would not have to look hard to see the definition of his muscles and broad shoulders even through his shirt; it was a quality that he had earned from fighting and training with a heavy battle axe for so many years. An art he had become a master at.
The side swept hair on his head and his short beard were both dark blonde and his eyes were shielded behind a visor that plugged directly into his brain via a cybernetic port on each of his temples. The visor was built from an ancient technology provided by the Humaan aliens when they had first arrived. Without it, he was completely blind.
Despite his brutish appearance, Alec was a kind and gentle man who cared deeply for those he loved. He frequently went out of his way to help his friends, always had an uplifting word for them. There were many times Alec could recall that his words alone lifted Crinnan out of the dark places his mind always took him to. As he looked at the flame, he sighed mournfully.
As Alec stared into the dying flame, he felt an arm wrap around his side. He looked to his left to find his and Crinnan's dear friend Elia nestled into him battling emotions of her own. Alec lifted his own muscular arm and hugged her closer to him. The third part of their trio had gone and had left Alec and Elia to continue living without him.
“I cannot believe he is gone," the slender-bodied, long brown-haired Faire said in her sweet voice. “Of everyone we have lost…”
“I know," Alec mumbled, unmoving. He felt his shoulder moisten with her tears and he squeezed her a little tighter. “We must never forget him,"
“I do not know how we ever could," Elia sobbed, “We have all been together since we were children…”
“We will get our revenge," Alec promised in an angry tone. “Whoever did this will pay,"
“I hope so," Elia sighed. “Crinnan’s death was so… unnecessary," she lifted her head to wipe away her tears and Alec looked down at her.
Elia was a beautiful Faire around the same age as Alec and Crinnan. Her dark brown hair was thick and wavy and hung down to her chest. She was thin but muscular and the top of her head landed at the base of Alec's neck. Alec had always harbored a secret love for her that he never spoke of to anybody.
“Do you think we will ever reclaim the body?" Elia asked, “Do you think whoever took him will give it up?”
“I do not know," Alec replied. In truth, he sincerely doubted that they would ever see Crinnan's corpse. Not that he wanted to anyway...
“They should know who his father is," Elia growled with clenched fists. “If they knew he was of the Jamiso family then perhaps they did not kill him,"
“He did not survive," Alec insisted, shakin
g his head. “It has been too long. Nobody survives this long out there,"
“We know Crinnan though," Elia argued, “He is not like everybody else. Why do you keep avoiding...?"
“Elia," Alec snapped, looking at her sternly, “Please. Do not give me false hope. I have finally accepted his death,"
“Do not give up on him," Elia returned angrily, removing her arm from Alec’s side. “He would never give up on you," she crossed her arms and looked away from him, her tears falling gratuitously.
“It has been three weeks Elia," Alec sighed. “What am I supposed to believe? Do you forget the state of the world we live in?”
“I just cannot give up on him," the tears fell from her eyes again and she turned her face back toward him. “Not until I have proof,"
“Elia…" Alec decided that they had bickered enough. “Come here," he pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her. Her body felt so small; he felt as if one miscalculation could break her. He knew he was wrong though, he had watched her dispatch just as many enemies as he had, for she was a Centurion like he and Crinnan...
“I am sorry…” a deep, clear voice said from behind the two of them. They knew the voice for it was as much a part of Base 21 as the ground it stood on. “For your losses,"
Alec let go of Elia and turned around to find Vice Commander Card Gamiz standing before them. Lord Card was a slender black-haired Elf with very fair skin and his family’s six-headed hydra sigil tattooed around his left eye. He wore a ceremonial set of light platinum colored plate armor over a black sleeveless tunic that was unlaced at the top. A short sword hung from each of his hips.
“Lord Card," Alec saluted as he and Elia both lowered their heads. Lord Card raised a single hand.
“Be as you were," he said in a comforting tone, “I have come to mourn just as you have," the Vice Commander stepped beside Alec and lowered his head to look at the flames. Alec looked over at his face.
“Did you know Crinnan my lord?” he asked.
The Black Knight Box Set Page 29