by T. C. Edge
"They got spooked," I tell her. "One of the leaders was killed, and a whole bunch of his people were taken to Olympus. I can see why some of us would want to run from that whilst they can. It was the original intention of the Liberation League to flee."
"Strange choice of name, then. Liberation is very different from fleeing."
Ahead, my grandmother and the Emperor turn towards the door of a stone building. Two guards stand outside, two I don't recognise. They are sizeable Titans, heavily armoured. I imagine that they are bodyguards to the General.
"So, this General Decimus?" I say, lowering my voice as we approach. "What's he like?"
She shakes her head. "I don't know much about him," she says. "Only that he's the most celebrated general in the Neoroman army. I get the impression he's very strategically gifted. And ruthless. That can be a powerful combination in war."
The two Titans, seeing the Emperor coming, step aside and open up the door. We follow Domitian inside, entering into an open chamber with a table at its heart. Torches blaze upon the walls, adding extra light to the glow of the sun, drenching in from high windows. I find a small gathering looking at a rudimentary map; Secretary Burns, Commander Ares, and Perses joined by the man I assume to be General Decimus.
It is Decimus who speaks first, as Domitian walks in. He bows his head in respect, and speaks with a deeply focused and well-worn voice. "My Emperor," he says. "I'm glad you could join us."
"Of course, General," says Dom. "I'd like first to introduce you officially to your future Empress, Kira Blackstone. You might remember her from when we left Ostia."
"I remember quite clearly," Decimus says, stepping around the side of the table towards us. He stops before Kira, and bows, taking her hand and kissing the back of her palm.
Every movement is precise, and profound, the man's presence carrying a great weight. His eyes shine silver, pale like the full moon. His visage is rough, skin like sandpaper, a network of deep wrinkles around his eyes and forehead, his complexion deeply tanned. And on his chin and jaw, I find a neatly trimmed beard of grey, brown, and white, his head topped with a simple cropping of dense, silvery hair.
"It's a great pleasure to meet you, Lady Kira," he continues. "I hope you do not bear me a grudge over our first meeting at the port?"
Kira shakes her head. She seems slightly flustered, a rare thing indeed. "No, not at all, General Decimus," she says. "I...I thought it would perhaps be the other way around?"
"Certainly not," comes his growling voice. "I understood your desire to leave. Were the senate to have allowed it, I would have mustered the legion right then and there and followed you across the sea. I have wished to march to these lands for many years now. Olympus has ever been a threat in my mind, and a great challenge to besiege."
I see Perses raise his eyes, just slightly, at that. The way this man is talking, he sees Olympus as a prize.
"That warring spirit is so very strong in you Neoromans." The words come from my grandmother, keen to make her presence felt.
The General's eyes turn to hers, glinting like a sword. "And you are?"
"Alberta," she says. "I once had a lofty title too, but lost it long ago."
"This is the woman I told you about, General Decimus," says Ares, standing grand and mighty by the table. "She was once a very prominent figure in Olympus, and now leads the people of the Fringe in their rebellion."
Decimus looks at Ares, nods, and then turns back to my grandmother. "I see. And then this must be Amber?" he says, suddenly looking to me. "I hear you have a mighty flame inside you? A rare, destructive power."
I understand, now, why Kira looked so cowed by this man. Having his eyes on me forces me to shrink a little. I wonder if that's where his success has been bred, this ability to intimidate with little more than a stare.
I find that all I do is nod. There is a look on his face that makes me slightly uneasy, an interest in me, and my power, that he thinks he can put to use.
I won't be a tool or a weapon, I tell myself. Not unless I believe in what I'm doing.
"Destructive indeed," says my grandmother, speaking for me. "But nothing compared to what Brie can accomplish. I assume you know what's been happening here, General?"
"I have been apprised," he says, stepping back around the table. He places his hands upon it, standing next to Ares, with Burns and Perses on his other side. "Secretary Burns has told me all about this Brie, and what she is being forced to do. Believe me, we have some experience back in Neorome with powerful telepaths. We understand the threat they pose."
I creep forward just a little, though stay mostly to the back as the others move around the table. My grandmother, to no surprise, steps right up to it, almost facing Decimus directly from the other side. I find myself veering around it a little until I'm near to Perses, who offers me a smile as I come. I feel comfortable in his presence, concealed within his shadow.
"We won't be staying here long," Decimus continues, the room filling with his commanding tone. His hawkish eyes, ever narrow and topped with sleek silver brows, look down at the map. It's a simple depiction of the Fringe, the Sacred Plains, and Olympus beyond. "I wish to make camp by nightfall," he says. "The city must be surrounded as a priority. I have heard that the Fringe has been raided for supplies, so we have to assume they have stores enough to last them for some time. However, we must stem the flow of these incoming commoners. Any one of them might be turned into a valuable soldier, and we cannot afford their army growing any larger."
He speaks quickly, clearly, and doesn't meander in making his points. He looks to no one for confirmation or approval. It is evident that he holds the power of command here.
His eyes work to his right, arching up to Perses. "Tell me, Perses, of these Sacred Plains. You say they are not good for making camp?"
Perses doesn't wilt as others might, under the gaze of the man. I don't think he has the capacity for it. "They are blanketed in a fog, General Decimus, though not a natural one of the world. It is the Skymasters who keep the plains hidden. If they can be driven off, they will clear. It is quite possible, in fact, that they have drawn back to Olympus now anyway."
"And besides this fog?"
"The plains are otherwise mostly flat, barren, and desolate. So long as you camp beyond the range of the Olympian defences, they will provide good vantage to the city."
Decimus nods. "I will have you travel with me on the journey north," he says. "I'd like to hear more of the landscape on the way."
It sounds like more of an order than a request. I notice Perses's expression tighten at his words.
The General doesn't seem to notice or care, his eyes turning forward, and straight for my grandmother. "I'm told you have thousands of willing militiamen, Alberta?" he says. "I take it you are keen to contribute."
"Within reason," she says. "I would never expect to be part of your main assault, but we can lend aid in blockading the city. Our priority is to stop any more Fringers from travelling to Olympus. There have been some troubling rumours that many from the northern Fringe are now going there by choice. We would like to stop that influx as much as you. I would say even more so."
"Understandably." He thinks for a split second. It seems that it takes no longer than that for him to make a decision. "I will permit your support," he says. My grandmother shows a little tooth at the wording. "How many do you have?"
"At our last count," she says, her golden eyes flashing fire, "about three thousand five hundred. We have, however, run short of weapons now to arm those willing to bear them. We may be able to muster another thousand or so, if we have the tools." She looks to the others, Burns in particular. "I wonder if you might have some to spare?"
"I'm sure we can help, Alberta," Burns says, typically measured and calm. "I will see what I can do."
"Thank you, Leyton," she says, offering a grateful smile.
"Cooperation is important," Decimus goes on, angling his eyes from one of them to the next. "I would see you go further.
Secretary Burns, perhaps your City Guards could collaborate with this Fringe militia in blockading the city. It would leave the legion free of mind to focus on breaching the walls, and defeating their military."
He offers some concession to Burns by at least waiting for a response. This isn't an order. He has no true authority to order the Havenite troops around, a job which Burns and Hendricks still see to.
"If you think that is where we are best utilised," Burns says, "then we shall see it done, General."
"Thank you, Secretary Burns," says Decimus, showing the man a measure of respect. "We can better discuss our strategy en route. Would you travel alongside Perses and me?"
"Certainly."
"Good."
A short silence presses upon us, as Decimus's keen silver eyes drop again to the map, considering if anything else needs to be said. Still looking down, he speaks again. "When might your militia be able to travel?"
He looks up into my grandmother's eyes.
"We have tens of thousands of people at Hunter's Station," she tells him, "who need to be protected. That will require some discussion on how best to use our resources."
"You plan to leave the commoners there?"
"I don't see another way."
"No, there isn't one." He nods. "How many of your militia will you leave, and how many will you be able to bring with you?"
"Well..."
"I need to know numbers, Alberta."
"Yes, I'm aware of that, General," she says curtly, her playful manner a distant thought now. "I won't have an answer until I speak with my fellow leaders. We should be able to travel tomorrow."
"And therein lies an issue," he says. "You should take the decision, and you alone. Wartime demands swift action."
"I'm fully aware of that. But I cannot take this decision unilaterally. Expect at least two thousand of us, perhaps more. It should be plenty. I know Olympus, General. I know its wall and gates. The numbers we have will be quite sufficient to blockade it."
Her words come clean but tinged in fire. I see the first hint of a smile pull at the General's lips.
"Then, we shall see you tomorrow," he says. "We shall draw up plans using Secretary Burns's troops. For now, that is all." He pulls back from the table. "Until we next convene."
The meeting ends abruptly, as Decimus marches off, trailed behind by Ares. It's odd to see the gigantic Neoroman so quiet in a meeting like this, as it is everyone else. Only my grandmother, really, engaged fully with the General. And though I can see a mild frustration smoking on her face, I think she partially enjoys it too. No, General Decimus may not be the most likeable man, but he is forthright, direct, and evidently very astute. Just the sort of person we need.
The rest of us step outside, as Emperor Domitian bids my grandmother and me goodbye. "Be safe on the road," he says to us. "We'll clear a path for you. Follow our tracks, and you'll find us."
He smiles and steps off, drawing Kira along with him. She tilts her chin up at me in a friendly gesture, shrugs as if to say, 'geez, that was tense', and then hobbles off on her weak left ankle, using a rudimentary crutch for support.
"I don't envy you two," grandma says, casting her eyes upon Burns and Perses. She glances off as the General disappears beyond our sight, moving back into the throng in the southern yard. "To be travelling all that way with him."
"You don't like him, Alberta?" Burns asks lightly.
"I try to like everyone, so will give him a chance. But my initial impression isn't favourable."
"It isn't important if we like him or not," Perses rumbles. "So long as he gets the job done."
"And does it matter how he gets the job done?" I find myself asking. They look to me, as if not expecting me to have spoken. "Kira says he's ruthless," I continue, my voice a little uneasy. "Do we know what his strategy is going to be when sieging the city? A lot of innocent people could die. Not just Olympian citizens, but Fringers too. How many of them are there right now? And..." I look to my grandmother alone. "Lilly," I whisper. "She's one of them."
Heads nod soberly. It seems like a concern all share, one that is particularly troublesome for Perses.
"Domitian is a good man," Burns says after a time. "He may not command the army, but he has power to overrule Decimus if required. I'm sure their strategy will be centred on getting through the walls only, and not unnecessarily damaging or attacking the city beyond. They may strike at military targets, if they can, but I see no reason why the population will be targeted."
"And what about collateral damage?" I ask. "I know some of that has to be accepted in war, but everyone has a different tolerance to it." I look to the others. "Don't they?"
A hand rests on my shoulder, heavy and thick-fingered. "Don't think on it so much, Amber," Perses says. "We have no answers yet, so must wait and see how things unfold. The Neoromans are expert in this, and we know Ares and Maximus, as well as Domitian, to be fine and considerate men. I'm sure they will try to keep civilian casualties to a minimum."
As I muse on his words, I find my thoughts running selfish. Really, this isn't so much about the innocent civilians, but Lilly specifically. I wonder, as I stand there, how many casualties I'd accept if Lilly were to survive. Would I be happy for thousands to fall, should Lilly walk out alive? Would I be willing to sacrifice Lilly to save those same multitudes?
I find my answer going one way only. Don't kid yourself, the thought comes, prodding at me with self-rebuke. This is about your sister, and no one else. Take a look in the mirror, why don't you. Your moral compass is just as skewed as everyone else's...
Sounds spread from the southern yard, voices calling out, drawing me out of my thoughts. The convoy is set to move out, it seems. Our time here at the fort, is done.
We bid a swift goodbye to Burns and Perses at that, and return to our jeep, our concerns sidelined for now. My grandmother steps into the car, as I prepare to do the same. Yet my eyes are taken by a flash of gold, shining at the gate. I turn and, among the silver armoured Neoromans, find a figure of glorious gold glowing bright.
The sight of Elian brings a smile, seeing his aura, his inner shine return. He walks alongside Secretary Burns, committing to his role as guard and advisor. I see Perses there too, and Emperor Domitian, and Kira trailing just behind. I recognise the young man she's with, dressed in a suit that looks so out of place here, his hair dark, eyes silver, skin pale and jaw square. Adryan, chief advisor to President Orlando, and husband to Brie.
I look at the gathering as they climb into some of the leading vehicles, Perses and Burns set to ride with General Decimus, Ares accompanying them too. The others have the honour of travelling with the Emperor. I know which vehicle I'd rather be in.
It's with some regret that I have to turn away, and step into my own car. Our journey will take us a little south, not north, not right back to Olympus where the action is taking place.
Before I climb into the backseat, I find Elian's eyes spreading my way. He stands tall and firm, his body draped in Fire-Blood robes. With a flash, and a shining white grin, he lets the fires coil briefly around him, sending a plume of smoke to the sky.
Some of the soldiers nearby look over, impressed. They nod and purse their lips, murmuring as they climb back into their transports. And all the while, Elian grins, the display conveying a message clear as day.
I am back, he's telling me. I am me again.
174
KIRA
The sound of the convoy in full flow, rumbling like thunder across the plains, is a glorious song to my ears. Several hundred vehicles, carrying troops, supplies, weapons, and equipment, spread deep and wide upon the dusty tundra, only narrowing at certain points where we need to navigate chasms or bridges, funnelled down certain routes.
It is a route I recognise, lands I've come to know quite well. We travelled this way when setting out for Olympus originally, and returned via much the same path when coming back. Those days with Ares were difficult for me, battling a few mental demons, questionin
g my place. I haven't completely shed those lingering insecurities, but refuse to let them cripple me anymore. I know I can still contribute. I know I have a lot still to give.
A small smile hovers on my face as I look to the seats ahead, where Dom sits alongside Maximus, the two enjoying a well earned catch up. I've always enjoyed their interactions, the loyalty and devotion Max shows his Emperor, and the great gratitude and respect he gets from Dom in return.
Right now they're discussing the latest goings on in Neorome. Max remains concerned, it seems, that the city may see fully fledged riots soon, something that Emperor Lucius, apparently, is looking into as a high priority. There seems no easy solution to it, the people's chagrin based upon the termination of the Warrior Race, the great gladiatorial games of Neorome, which always drew interest from far and wide.
Now, they've been permanently cancelled, much to the dismay and disappointment of large parts of the city. Without it, Max always warned, the people would grow increasingly restless, needing the distraction of blood and gore to satiate their thirst for such violent entertainment. Always insightful, Max's foresight is proving correct, a few minor troubles beginning to brew as the weather heats up, and the games fail to materialise.
"Lucius will see the city calmed," Dom assures him, as I lend their conversation half an ear. "I'm sure news that General Decimus is leading a foreign conquest will keep them busy for now. The taverns and popinas will be awash with such rumour and speculation."
I see Max dip his head into a nod. "You may be right, my Emperor," he says. "But it will not last. The people care about the greatness of Neorome, yes, but it is their eyes and ears that need to feast, not only their minds. They can imagine great battles and victories, but seeing bloodshed and combat firsthand in the arena, is always going to be of superior interest to them."
"I understand, Max," says Dom. "But to crumble now and reinstitute the Imperial Games would only make Lucius and I appear weak. We outlawed it for a reason, to distance ourselves from my mother's barbaric rule. We must stand by that."