The sky was veiled by fluttering flags concealing the wan colors of the clouds by the radiance of red and gold that fragranced the modest city with the aura of glory and magnitude. Rose petals paved the main and minor streets as commoners waved at the procession that suddenly drifted into their city, while the garrison soldiers filled every corner with unusual doubled numbers. Excitement was not hidden in the people's eyes; having a victorious battalion passing through their province was an honor, they hailed and cheered the brave soldiers on their way back to Rome, the way they did at anything they liked.
From the balcony of his palace, Germanous watched the warm welcome his people showed the victorious yet tired battalion that asked to rest and get new supplies since they have been fighting for many months, and it wasn't Germanous place to deny the heroes their rights. Eyes focused on the robust horse racing down the streets elegantly and carrying the no less elegant leader, the governor turned at his advisor.
"Say Laurentius, what do you think of this?"
"I don't believe it is in our capacity to supply this huge squad, but we have no other choice."
The quiet man frankly answered, causing the governor to flip his lips in annoyance.
"Do not worry about this Laurentius, these people will willingly provide their heroes with their own home supplies."
Laurentius eyed the blond boy carefully, his suspicions confirmed; Germanous was not pleased with having these unwanted visitors, maybe because he still had some worries after the messenger's incident. He viewed this coincidental drift into his province as a chance to conspire against him.
"Whatever…"
The blonde's lips curled into a confident smile as his eyes glowed; he cannot be defeated easily, and the previous incident proved this.
"We better welcome our heroes as well with no less warmth and admiration than the people's."
Sneering, Germanous left the hall in firm steps yet with eyes flickering around with each step.
***
"This humble province is blessed with the strides of our glorious soldiers."
The silent advisor raised an eyebrow at the glorifying welcome, moving his eyes between the pretentious governor and the prancing leader, both men wearing a toothed smile, one of hidden mockery and the other of self - assurance.
"Please come in."
Germanous gestured at his guests then led the way to the dining hall where the blond governor proudly took his place at the top of the table, the battalion leader at his right and his first counselor at his left. Rather than the grand feast the fighting soldiers have not seen for months, and the feeling of comfort and luxury they have been deprived from, it was the sole guardian standing behind the young governor who caught the leader's interest.
Standing unwavering like a giant tree shading the frail man from any prospective danger, the man's purpose was obvious.
"Have the blades of Roman soldiers gone dull to seek the protection of a stranger's blade?"
The leader asked, not wasting a second to fully look at the foreign bodyguard while showering the governor with daring stares as if the assignment of a foreigner slave as a guard had insulted him in some way.
"I simply won't waste the honorable blades of our soldiers on a single individual protection even if that single person was me, their governor. I would rather have them protect their neighbors and families, their people whom I am one of them."
Quintinus, the returning victorious leader, remained silent at the reply that turned what the counselor thought of as a new whim of a fickle minded ruler into an honorable humbleness and a generous patronage of a caring one.
"Sadly, your generosity won't grant you an untroubled sleep."
The leader remarked after taking a sip of his drink, refusing to let the arrogant blond win the discussion.
"No one regrets the rest provided by the protection of a knight."
Germanous stared at the guest to his right, his red eyes glimmering with the hint to stop this unadvised underestimation of his guardian.
"No matter how great a knight he can be, being here proves him to be a defeated blade."
"What choice does he have facing our blades?"
Germanous shrugged, brushing away the insolence by ignoring it yet stopping the leader from suggesting any further unwise mockery. Quintinus leaned back in his chair giving himself more space to eye the muscular man and finding himself forced to acknowledge the man's mighty build and abilities. Upon looking closer at the silent guardian with the exotic teardrop mole beneath his eye, Quintinus added:
"Not bad for you Germanous, I heard about your passion for collecting beautiful things, however..."
The leader said shifting his gaze from the guardian to the entire elegantly decorated hall as he went on:
"I am a bit disappointed… I thought I will be welcomed in a wondrous palace but this place falls far from Rome!"
"Starting to feel homesick?"
Germanous bounced the drink in his hand to absorb his piling up annoyance.
"While setting foot again into a roman land sure does warm the heart, nothing excels the wind of Rome, there I feel the humbleness of my victories measured against t the glory of Rome!"
"As long as this province is a part of the empire, it glows with its glory."
"More like absorbs what little glitter it can catch!"
The leader finished the remaining red wine in his glass in one gulp making a space in his mouth for the ringing laughter that followed. He then cleared his throat causing the young governor to sink in his chair with anticipation to the long talk his guest was preparing for, a speech sprinkled with sickening flattery and exaggerated worth.
As Quintinus started glorifying the capital he pledged his loyalty to while everyone listened silently only interrupting to agree and approve of the leader's words, one of the latter's subordinates, the man right next to him in seat and beneath him in rank never stopped glancing at the sole foreign face in the room, glances used to confirm his suspicions and his surprise.
It was the same man indeed, and the mole beneath his eye affirmed this. But while he was the same in physical form, he wasn't the same in spirit. That radiant valor soul was not present, replaced by a vague meek shadow.
The knight was there, but not his blade. The blade that had just saved him this morning.
Prior to the festive entrance of the triumphed legion into the province, a messenger was sent first to inform the governor. Plinius, the man glancing at the Celtic the whole time, was the messenger. And though injured from his previous battles, he did not mind carrying the job as a proper representative of the returning heroes, but meeting a group of bandits in the outskirts of the city was not something he had anticipated, and it was preferably uncalled for in his current condition. Still, the man drew his sword unwilling to lose to a group of low thugs. His unhidden injuries did not draw the bandits sense of fairness but that of another passerby.
When a mere rough piece of wood blocked a sword aimed at the injured yet fighting general, the bandits grunted in displeasure at the interruption of their little party, changing their attacks trajectory at the intruder, while yelling profanities and demanding an explanation.
"I am afraid this do concern me. As you see, seeing an unfair fight where taking advantage of someone's weakened state to overpower him, is simply something I can't accept and tolerate!"
The bandits now engaged with the foreign intruder, but they were not the only one enraged, their victim, the Roman battalion second in command exclaimed:
"I don't need your help! What do you think of me?!"
But his discontent words were lost in the clash of weapons, disarming a bandit of his sword, the savor got himself a sharp weapon that did not fail to strike the rest of the group down. Refusing the pity and help, the injured general now fought even more furiously until the two men together won the fight; those who were not killed by the general's sword ran away battered by the stranger's blade.
"You did not have to…"
The general did not go on, taken by a swift phase of pain. The sound of the thrown sword brought his senses back, and he stared at his savor. A foreign face with the same countenance as those whom he had been fighting against and with a strange mole on his right cheek. However, he was no enemy; though carrying the appearance of someone who was hesitant about what he was doing, his words proved not to be empty and his style was unmatched, deadly yet dignified.
That hesitation was justified. Previously a knight, now a slave.
Looking at the Celtic man in simple Roman clothes, he guessed him to be a slave running an errand for his master.
He refused to accept the aid of a slave but appreciated it the aid of a warrior. Now, at the governor's palace there was nothing present of that dignity, it was replaced by silence and bitter compliance.
The general kept his thoughts to himself though his curiosity grew. After the heroic display of bravery this morning, the silence and indifference the Celtic took the leader's insults with felt unbearable for some reason, and he wondered how the foreign man took it himself, but the Celtic did not even look at him or seem to remember the incidence and as the night progressed, the general kept the memory within his intrigued gaze.
***
Tapping his lithe fingers on the cold marble, the young governor gladly sighed at the evening's end. His bothersome guests were on their way to their rooms and the tranquil calmness of the night finally replaced the leader's rambling. Turning at the sound of footfall, Germanous saw the Celtic approaching him, probably to excuse himself, but Germanous instantly addressed him first:
"I am sorry."
Diarmuid raised his head not certain he had heard correctly.
"I was forced to utter some unjust words, and bear them being said about you."
The governor sadly smiled, causing the Celtic to stop in surprise and eye the frail blond from head to toe.
"Why? Why do you apologize to an enemy you have fairly defeated?"
Diarmuid shook his head seeking to understand the gestures he himself would have never addressed an enemy he had defeated with. He respected those whom he defeated and never sought to humiliate them but he still took pride in their defeat and his win, never regretting a battle he won whether against a foe or a friend.
"The nobility of a blade doesn't belong to a certain tribe or empire, it belongs to all who appreciate honor and beauty."
In his unstoppable search for true elegance, the governor now finally found his wish in the two spears of red and gold.
"Were it aimed to protect or kill me, I still will not deny the fineness and charm it holds."
The lancer listened silently, the words leaving the blond's mouth carrying him away while the chains of reality pulled him back.
"I…"
The lancer murmured.
"I am no longer a knight."
"I can no longer protect anything."
"Not only are my blades chained...But everything I desired to protect is lost."
"I can protect nothing."
"I can save no one."
"But I still want to build something… if only one… with these blades help and protection…"
Diarmuid's unsaid words were long dominating the governor's heart, squeezing it the way his weak hands squeezed the white marble of the balcony. Sharing the same thought of being defeated, the gaze in the blonde's eyes were no less broken than the lancer's. However, after every storm of despair and depression that tore his heart, only then could these ruby orbs shine more brightly and more furiously.
"That man can only brag about things he has never done. He sent his men to death and received honors on their graves; them forgotten, he became immortal. He lauds the capital he serves but not built, becoming glorified by glorifying what already stands. But, what about the hands that bled to get every stone and pillar where they stand proudly now?"
"This is the way of this world."
The lancer soberly answered. He was a knight that served under a king, and no matter how great of a king he was, there were still those other unrenowned knights and soldiers who died for him and their names were forgotten. Only those who survived by the edge of their swords shared their king's greatness and he was one of them.
"I am a governor who no one of his people acknowledges…"
Germanous spoke words no governor or ruler would dare speak in the open, no matter how rejected and despised he was, yet this confession left his lips smoothly and frankly. Unburdened by possible consequences, he simply went on:
"And that is because I cannot acknowledge their way of life… we really stand on unequal ground…"
Germanous added the last sentence with a faded laugh trying to lessen the gloominess of the atmosphere as he brushed his golden locks away from his young face.
"Then, give them something to aspire at."
The blond turned his dreamy gaze at the man standing behind him, no less broken than he was, no less defeated than he was and though both gave up on struggling and confined to ignorance, one long ago and the other recently, they still dared to speak of a new chance.
Give something for the people to aspire at… the people whose interests and alliances kept changing like the cycle of the seasons, the people whose loyalty remained dubious despite the passage of years.
Though through different manners, both men were betrayed and while the knight could not understand or accept why, Germanous knew well. It was the very reason that made him desert his people and duties.
Their emptiness.
"I will elevate them, birth a new meaning of life into their soulless bodies…Turn their ordinary life into a lively one, open their eyes to the joy of quest and the beauty of a sought wish and even if they still refuse my dreams of their happiness and call it an aimless illusion, I won't give up on them! I will turn this neglected province into something grand and open their sight to the meaning of true greatness!"
The beauty of a sought wish. How many wishes did Diarmuid had which upon nearly grasping them, all dispersed like a mirage, learning not to wish anymore.
He could only smile in front of the governor's rushed words, at the passion he once had and managed to rekindle in the blond's soul.
At the passion he believed he would maintain forever.
"Would you help me build this province and be my shield, Diarmuid? Just till I finish this mission…?"
"I am no longer a knight…"
"I can no longer protect anything…"
Now, the passion he had deserted was overwhelming his existence again. He may no longer acknowledge it, but who was he to oppose or hinder it?
These red irises engulfed his senses every time he met them, but now he could no longer look at them directly.
"My blades are enchained"
He did not have the bravery to do so.
He did not have the right to do so.
Closing his eyes, Diarmuid bowed his head a little and answered quietly.