“Yes sir, the waiter affirmed, “Follow me, sir," Eryc and Sarasin stood.
“Thank you." She smiled and took hold of Eryc’s arm as the two walked. The ghost children trailed closely behind them.
“I am no simple bodyguard, my Lady," Eryc looked down at her and took a sip of his drink, “I am sworn to guarding you as a person as well as a Govian official. My oaths and my honor bind me to you through thick and thin, no matter what happens. I hope you understand." The waiter led them through a door and into a room with only a few tables in it. All were vacant.
“Here we are," he announced, “All the privacy you may require. If you need my assistance, just press the button on the side of your table."
“Thank you, soldier," Eryc reached behind himself and pulled out his wallet, “This should cover your troubles." He handed over two hundred Aurum bills and the waiter's eyes grew wide.
“Th... thank you, sir!" He saluted, “You are very generous sir."
“You are welcome. Now get out of here, the Bishop and I have much to discuss. Make certain that we are not disturbed." The waiter nodded and hurried out as fast as his gimpy leg could take him. Eryc chuckled at the sight and the two sat back down.
“Now, what kind of thoughts are you having, my lady?" Eryc asked with a tone that exuded comfort, his demeanor turning serious.
“I do not know exactly how to explain. I may be… starting to think that things may be a bit glamorized," Sarasin explained with a sullen voice, “That maybe everything we know has been extravagantly blown out of proportion somehow."
Eryc hummed and sipped his drink, “You more than anybody should know that they very well are." He set his cup down, “It is your job to make sure that nobody else knows that."
“I do not care what everybody else knows. I care what I know, and If I know something contrary to how I am living…" she paused to collect her thoughts. “It is all just making me crazy." She lowered her head into her hands and rested her elbows on the table.
“Sarasin you are under a great deal of stress,” Eryc said in a fatherly tone, “I have tried to help you with the… self-harm, but I can only do so much. Is that how you feel like now like you want to harm yourself?”
“That is how I always feel,” Sarasin mumbled as she looked down at the table.
“My child, you must be stronger than that. You have to learn other ways of dealing with your emotions. Blood is not the answer to all your problems.”
“Says the man who kills for a living,” Sarasin defensively exclaimed. Eryc pursed his lips together and Sarasin closed her eyes, “I am sorry, I did not mean…”
“It is fine,” Eryc shook his head and waved the thought away with his hand, “When was last time you hurt yourself?"
Sarasin closed her eyes and looked away out of shame. That was answer enough for Eryc. He nodded his head in understanding and leaned forward. He gently turned Sarasin's head toward him and stared at her with caring eyes.
"You have to stop," he urged her, "You have to be strong. You have an army to run, people look up to you. I know life is hard, I know... And I know I have told you all this before. But Sarasin, you have to find some joy in your existence."
Sarasin spat out a laugh and glared at the captain of her guard. She appreciated his concern, but she was not there to be lectured. As she sighed to calm her thoughts, she spoke.
"Eryc, you know the things I see. You know the things I have done," Sarasin tried to remain calm as she spoke, "I have watched as the bodies of people I know who are innocent are tortured, dismembered... I have seen dead children litter the streets of towns; I have personally ripped babies from their mother’s arms. I have killed so many, ordered the deaths of so many more... Eryc what kind of Goddess would demand this of her people? She does not speak, she does not reveal herself. She is silent, yet somehow we know so specifically who she wants dead and who she wants in power. I question whose will I am truly serving."
Eryc had a fearful look plastered to his face. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath as he stared up at the ceiling, "Please do not put me in this position," he whispered, "What you speak is blasphemy. You know I would never turn against you, but... Sarasin your words are the most dangerous kind."
"Tell me I am not alone Eryc," Sarasin begged, "Tell me that you do not regret those you have killed. Tell me that you see the injustice, that you watch those in powerful grow richer and mightier while everyone else is left behind. Tell me Eryc, please!"
“Enough!" Eryc looked at Sarasin and held up a finger to silence her, "You speak the truth. I do regret my actions but I do them so that I may live. I do them in service of something greater than I."
"How truly great is something if so many are harmed by it?" Sarasin asked, "What are we doing with our lives, Eryc? There is so much more out there..."
Eryc drummed his fingers on the table. He was clearly disturbed by the conversation, but finally nodded his head, “Let us for a moment leave this subject alone," He said, "You are strong and facing a moment of weakness. You are venting your emotions and that is healthy. I think you need to sleep on your feelings and then we can speak tomorrow after the festival. What was the other issue you wanted to discuss?”
Sarasin sighed uncomfortably and lifted her head from her hands. She looked deeply at Eryc and considered the implications of what she was about to admit to him. The ghost children stared at her expectantly and she scratched her nails against her palm and flirted with digging them into her skin again.
“I need to know how committed you are to protecting me," she asked as she made eye contact, “Is this just a job for you or did you take your vows seriously?”
“Of course, my Lady. I have served Bishop Generals my entire life but you are the dearest to me. Even if the whole of the Empire were to crash down upon you, I would stick by your side. I know Quint and Gerard feel the same way."
“That is comforting to hear," she felt her heart begin to race, "I must tell you Eryc. I need to tell you and I need you to remain loyal to me. I need your protection…”
“What is going on my Lady?" Eryc asked leaning forward, “Whatever it is, you have my loyalty."
“I murdered High Father Korros," she blurted and quickly chased it with another drink.
Eryc went silent and leaned back in his chair. His face showed no expression; he seemed to be thinking about what he had just heard. Finally, he stroked his mustache and nodded his head. He quickly downed a substantial drink of his ale and gently set his cup back down on the table.
“Father Korros?" he cleared his throat as he clarified with a patient tone, “You mean the famed Priest who has his own television show and little devotional books in the bookstores and everything?”
“Yes."
“By the Goddess, Sarasin, the might of the Empire may very well crash down upon you then," he cleared his throat nervously, “Father Korros is probably the most beloved Priest in the world. Forgive me my lady but what the fuck would compel somebody like you to do something so...?”
“Stupid?" Sarasin finished for him.
“I would never intentionally imply such a thing, my Lady," Eryc reassured her. His voice suddenly became stern. “But why would you do such a thing. You have jeopardized your whole career, risked your life… the lives of your guards..."
With teary eyes, Sarasin recanted her story. She told Eryc of her time as Korros’ relief vessel. She told him of Eliss and her family; at times she felt like she was revealing too much but she for the first time ever was entirely open.
“My Lady…" he sighed with a compassionate tone, “We all live our lives with many secrets buried in our hearts. We are complicated, emotional beings and sometimes we make choices that are both good and bad." he slammed the rest of his ale.
“Of course you have my support Sarasin," he reassured the sobbing Bishop General, “Through thick and thin. I am certain Quint and Gerard will feel the same way. We will ensure that you will not be alone through this… whatever that m
ay mean."
“Thank you, Eryc..." Sarasin wiped her tears from her eyes with a napkin, “I am going to speak with Lazarus about it shortly. I am certain that he will know how to help me considering that our wedding is next month. You three are on standby until then. Do not say anything about what is going on to any of the other guards. I do not trust them as I trust you."
Eryc nodded, “We will figure something out. Maybe our prince will make this fade into oblivion. You should be able to trust him, but do show care."
Sarasin nodded and stood up straightening her dress, “Speaking of which, I need to get going. I thank you for your support, Eryc. Keep your communicator handy just in case I need you."
Eryc sighed and stood up as well. She could tell he was uncomfortable with the whole situation but she knew he was sincere in his words.
“I will," he said, “I need to get back to our quarters to get the other two up to speed. If and when the time comes, we will be ready."
Sarasin nodded and Eryc walked out of the room. When he was gone, she sat back down for a moment, “Thank you Eryc," she said. She looked over at the ghost children and they walked up to her.
“Everything will be okay mommy," Eliss reassured her, “I love you." Sarasin instinctively reached for the child but pulled her hand back.
“Not now. Please not now." The tears came back unbidden.
Little Sarasin turned to Eliss and guided him away, “We will be needed soon enough, be patient Eliss."
Chapter Seven
Rubaan II
12th of Ramlia – 346AG
23:00 – Canrom City
“You need to visit your parents," a starry-eyed Amaria instructed her husband as the two laid in the dark, “You know they want to see you."
“I know. It’s just so complicated and I haven’t had the time to deal with it," Rubaan panted, his exhausted gaze not shifting from the ceiling, “I will soon."
Amaria looked at him and smiled. Her pearly white teeth caught his attention and he grinned back, “Why must you do that?”
“What are you talking about?" she asked with a playful grin. She poked him in his bare chest and bit her lower lip, “What am I doing?”
“Why must you be so beautiful when I am trying to be mad at you?”
“Why must you try to be mad at me when I am being so beautiful?" Amaria asked back.
Rubaan laughed and pulled her down next to him, “Come here. Lay with me."
She snuggled up against him and laid her head on his chest. Her smooth, warm body felt nice against his rough and hairy skin. A few of her stray hairs tickled his face but he was silent about it as he did not want to ruin the moment. He brushed her hair with his hand and she sighed deeply.
Her fury had died down in the time that had passed since their visit with the Inquisitors. The intrusion and show of force had left her in a rage that could only have been settled with solitude. She knew that much about herself, and she retreated mostly for Rubaan. He did not deserve her wrath after being taxed repeatedly by the Govian.
“Have I ever told you that I love you?" Amaria asked her spouse tenderly. Rubaan nodded and tenderly rested his cheek on top of her head. He ignored the hairs that somehow found their way back into his face.
“I am sorry for being a bitch earlier. I am just so tired of the searches, the groping, the questions… this is not what I expected when I moved here when I gave up my freedom to be with you. Three years ago, I could have ripped them apart..."
“I am tired of it too," Rubaan agreed, happy that he and his wife were getting along, “I know you were just upset."
“Old habit I guess," Amaria shrugged, “The bitchiness."
Rubaan smiled and shook his head.
“How does someone like you put up with someone like me?” he prodded, “Aren’t I just so young, boring and stupid to you?”
“Yes," Amaria replied with an endearing smile, “That is exactly why I love you."
Rubaan held his wife close. Thankfully the day was over and the two of them were getting along again. Nothing else could go wrong that night, all he wanted was to lay with his wife wrapped in his arms.
“What kind of person do you think Roc will become?" Rubaan asked Amaria. She looked up at him and smiled.
“I do not know," she thoughtfully replied, “It is too early to tell I think. Someone great, I hope. Someone bigger than all of this."
“What do you think this world will do to him?" Rubaan asked, his sounding more pessimistic, “Will he end up just like everyone else?”
Amaria was silent. Rubaan turned his head and looked at the brilliant green moonlight shining through his window. He held his hand up into the light as if he were trying to grab it. “I do not want to see him end up like me and the others in the mines. I want more for him than that."
Amaria suddenly sat her naked body up and glared at Rubaan with a frustrated expression, “Do not do that," she snapped at him, “Do not bring yourself down like that,"
“I am not trying to…" Rubaan started.
“You are," Amaria cut him off, “It was your choice to leave the army, your choice to live this life. This is everything that you have worked for; I do not want to hear you undermine your existence. It hurts me."
“Amaria," Rubaan groaned, “Do not do this right now,"
“No Rubaan," Amaria scolded, standing up and taking the blanket with her, “There is too much shit wrong with the world for you to think that what we have is not good enough. I am sorry that you are not out saving the planet from the Empire like you want to be, but this is the life you made for yourself. I want to know that you are happy with us."
“You are overreacting Amaria," Rubaan got off the bed to join his wife, “Come here." he opened his arms and walked toward her but she stepped back.
“Promise me that you are happy Rubaan," she said with tears in her eyes, “Not with the oppression, not with the living conditions… but with us. Promise me. Please!"
“Amaria," Rubaan stepped toward her, “Of course I am happy with us." He closed his arms around her and held tight.
As he gently kissed the side of her head, he wondered to himself whether he really was happy or not. He knew that he was happy with his family and that he could have never asked for more from them in terms of satisfaction but at the time he could not confidently say whether he was actually happy with his life or not. He wanted his wife and child to have so much more and he was unable to provide it. He felt like a failure in that sense and worried that she felt the same way about him.
“I love you," he whispered as he gently ran his fingers through her hair, “You have nothing to worry about."
Amaria sighed and rested her forehead on her husband’s chest. They both stood silently for a moment, each lost in their own different thoughts and Rubaan finally stepped back.
“I am going to the bathroom," he announced as he released her from his embrace, “Do not go anywhere."
“I love you," Amaria smiled and nodded her head “You are my world.” Rubaan beamed and turned to walk out of the bedroom.
As he gently shut the door behind him, Rubaan sighed and silently stood in the dark hallway. He thought for a moment about what he could change to make himself more content with the way things were. He knew that Amaria was right about him; he did miss fighting, he did miss being a Black Knight but he knew he had to move on.
Life for Rubaan had changed so quickly. Only a year and a half prior he was fighting on the front lines of North Barus, working with his Black Knight comrades to assist their government with the civil war that Govia refused to get involved with. Though he was thousands of miles away from his own blood at the time, he never lacked a brother. That was what he missed the most about the army.
He could still hear the waves crashing against the rocky coast of North Barus. He could smell the gunpowder and taste the sweat all around him. The fighting was like nothing he had trained for, the trench warfare - the fear and waiting involved. He was mostly familiar with the
guerilla tactics that he learned at the Academy. When he was placed on the dead open plains of North Barus he had nowhere to hide, nowhere to gain an edge on the enemy. It was all trenches, sandbags and burnt terrain. He spent a good year poking his head above the trench walls with limited action before something changed.
One night, in particular, Rubaan drew third shift lookout. He always liked third shift because he was able to get a few hours of sleep before he had to hit the walls. On that night Rubaan managed to get his sleep and grudgingly woke up when the sky seemed to be at its darkest. He filled his thermos with coffee and made his way to the wall to relieve his brothers.
“Wind’s got a bite," Rubaan recalled his comrade saying. He remembered the soldier well; his name was Ganarth. That night he had his face tucked down into his long gray fur-lined coat and had his ushanka tied around his chin. Rubaan decided it wise to copy him as the night was indeed very cold.
“Anything worth reporting?" Rubaan asked as he took a sip from his thermos. Ganarth shook his head and rested the butt of his long rifle on the ground.
“Piss," he said with a gruff voice. “They ain’t so much as popped their heads up to see if I was lookin’.
“Piss then," Rubaan repeated, “Piss is good. Go get some sleep Ganarth; I got this." Rubaan slapped Ganarth’s shoulder and he nodded his head.
“’Bout damn time," he grumbled as he walked off, “If they attack don’t bother waking me. Let ‘em kill me in my sleep.”
“No problem, buddy," Rubaan chuckled as Ganarth walked off. He had always thought him to be a bit odd.
For the next couple of hours, Rubaan would poke his head above the dark brown dirt wall and peer through his looking glass towards the direction of the nearest enemy trench. Most nights were piss. Once in a great, while he would catch someone poking their head up to look at him but that was never anything to note.
Rubaan remembered that night was the night he first heard her voice. He was sipping on his coffee and making shadow puppets when he heard what he thought was the whimper of an animal. Starved for entertainment, he hurried to the wall and peered over.
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