Germanous paced like a trapped tiger, too tired to bare his claws one more time. The turmoil that was brought by the "Justice Pallbearers" had aged him ten years and more. All the stress and the pressure aimed to destroy his morals and status directed toward him from everyone was not his preferred field of play. He wanted to create something new, to make a change, yet every time he sat his foot at this path, destruction followed him to drag him back to the norm he was fluttering against and trying to escape its bars. The threat now was even greater and more dangerous. The last thing he needed now were barbaric tribes trying to invade the country starting with the province under his rule, and which were it to fall to their hands, only the incompetent governor would be held responsible, even if he died, shame and disgrace would follow him to his grave and doom his entire lineage, the one preceding him and the one that would never descend from him; a mercy to the second and a curse to the first.
Observing how his nerves were on the edge of total collapse just like the southern walls, Laurentius calmly spoke trying to ground the pacing man into the current situation despite its unfavorable circumstances and fragility.
"Remember that the emperor himself had sent you a letter of acclaim for your victory against the "Justice Pallbearers" and the message they wanted to spread about our empire, he was pleased with your wisdom and smartness in revealing one of his most trusted men true nature and foul intents. What are you afraid of now? It is just another battle, that if led as wisely and was as well – planned as the previous one, we should celebrate its victory the same."
This was the longest Laurentius had ever spoken, and although they were the right words for someone in the governor's current state to hear, the boy was not that touched by them. Like his counselor, he spoke honestly pointing out his weaknesses.
"That was you and your troops victory. I merely attributed anything… and while I was working trickily for Caecilius downfall, you achieved it honestly without fabricated proofs… "
Germanous stated nervously but not falsely, without trying to mend the facts to his benefits or beautify the picture, but it was the counselor who did this, when he spoke again.
"Are you not still the governor of this province? Did the emperor state otherwise or decree a different order and name?"
The blond raised his head and looked at Laurentius shaking his head silently, not daring to state this truth out loud so it would not become cursed like everything else he tried to boast proudly about.
"Then we still fight in your name, and the victory we bring is yours and bears your name. When we fight we do not only put our honor on the stake, but our commander's as well and that is why we spare no effort or courage to achieve and grasp victory. The case is not that different now."
Germanous was stunned at these words. He knew Laurentius openly disliked many aspects of his character and methods, and the feeling was mutual, but he did not expect such resolute loyalty toward his person. However, the counselor had not finished everything he wanted to say yet.
"We cannot delay sending support to the southern front, every day we waste is a day
those barbaric tribes gain to advance and pillage more villages and citizens, but this time and battle are different; you should be the one leading the attack."
Suddenly, all the loyalty he felt Laurentius was harboring for him evaporated from the blonde's mind, and he felt the ropes of an upcoming conspiracy trying to bind him. When the counselor caught a glimpse of the youth's faltering and hesitation, nearly amounting to suspicions in mere seconds, he went on reassuringly without changing his forward straight tone.
"The emperor and the people had confessed that you passed the first test, but now they need the proof, an everlasting confirmation of your capabilities to pass any test and take command over any situation and there is no better proof for that than leading your legions into such a determinable battle."
"You want me to lead the legions and fight? You know I cannot even hold a sword without feeling pity and sorrow…"
"That does not matter, it is enough that you take the lead even from your tent, and assert your respect over them. I am not sending you to die!"
Germanous was slowly opening his heart for the first time to his estranged uncle, only to be cut ruthlessly by the man who once again, was speaking facts and actual useful advice if he truly desired to gain a thoroughly established popularity and harness a well-deserved respect.
"You think the troops will listen to me and respect me? Me?!"
"They are soldiers I have trained, so they respect me and as long as I respect you, they will as well."
The blond did not know how to infer this statement; was it a truth being affirmed and said or was it a concealed threat and a warning? A statement about how much more Laurentius could gain power and support if he wished to? But looking at the man's deep eyes, there were no hint of deceit or haughtiness. They were so dim they reflected nothing, and the blonde could not decide if the emptiness that dwelled within them was a good thing or if they were hiding beneath, at an unreachable depth for the human eye to discern, other desires and temptations.?
"Arrange for everything, and I will take the lead."
Germanous replied, not trusting his instincts entirely, as a shred of fear from an unknown conspiracy aiming for his life remained stagnant in his heart, but he decided to follow his mind this time and take the wise words to heart.
***
Only one guarantee could put the blonde's mind to rest, having the dual wielder lancer by his side at the battle but how was he to face him after the last trial he issued and carried through? Would he listen to him anymore? Did he still hold the same respect and belief in him? He needed him by his side but did not dare to call him to the palace, he feared the lancer would take this as an insult though this was not the first occurrence of such a call. Disguising himself again and wearing a black dress and a hood, the governor sneaked out of the palace toward Sextus's house.
"A visitor refusing to reveal his identity is insisting on meeting with Diarmuid the lancer."
The maid announced to a half drunken Sextus who responded slurring every word:
"What do they think he is? What do they think I run, an exhibition show?"
The maid wanted to say he kind did, but kept the thought to herself. Soon, Diarmuid himself came from his room after he heard of the matter and told her to let the man in, ignoring the inebriated Sextus as he guessed correctly the visitor's identity.
Leading the shorter man into a secluded room, the lancer immediately remarked:
"You could have sent for me, and I would have come."
"I know… but I could not wait… I mean…"
The governor, taking off his hood mumbled, not knowing how to describe how he felt calling for the man might be interpreted as another added humiliation to the lancer after his last battle and the identity of the foe he was forced to kill, but to his surprise, it was the lancer who acted in the most normal way, as if nothing had happened and no friend had died at his hands and under Germanous's watchful eyes.
The two men sat down face to face. Germanous refused the drink the lancer had offered him, unusual to his habits of indulging in drinks with the latter's company and the lancer could only read this as a signal of something important.
"Are you afraid of me?"
The lancer asked, and Germanous remained silent although it was quite the opposite reason he had risked his life by coming to him, walking alone in the middle of the night to meet him. He could only flip the conversation to what he deemed more befitting.
"Are you afraid of yourself?"
"I have nothing left to be afraid of or about."
A flicker of pain crossed the red orbs, like a shooting star abandoning the wishes cast upon it, and the lancer did not rectify his answer despite feeling the latter's pain at being neglected, and not included in the list of persons or things the dual wielder cherished and feared for but the latter had his reasons and after a short pause that rendered Germanous mute and hesitant about asking the lancer to join him on his quest, Diarmuid sighed and declared:
"I am afraid you have estimated me too high… I am not the person you thought I was. You are not a fool like the drunkard outside to still believe in me or in anything I could stand for or want to symbolize…"
"I fail to understand your words… for me you are still a beckon of hope for my dreams to come true… for my reputation to be established… for my hopelessness to be diminished…"
"Your eyes are keen but have mislead you this time…"
For the first time, a tinge of sadness not close enough to remorse, laced the Celtic's words, and this should have made the governor give up on the man but instead, the blonde, in all the glorious aura and graceful nobility bestowed upon him by his birth and by the heavenly stars witnessing this birth, was suddenly without the lancer's attention, kneeling on the ground, resting his hands on the man's knees and looking at him directly with the same eyes the latter had accused of falsifying their vision.
"The city still hails you, the crowds still praise your name, and what makes me trust you is that none of that matters or weighs more than a fly's wing in your thoughts and dreams…"
The lancer opened his mouth to answer but could not for a while, until he finally drifted his gaze from the blonde's penetrative adorning one.
"I have killed my…"
A cold finger was put on his lips to stop him from completing this dreadful remembrance. The governor's hand slowly reached to his cheek, steering his gaze that was cast down to meet his own.
"Who you killed was a criminal, whether he was prior to that your friend or foe… you did not yield to the crowds demand, you did not despair of my mercy, I can tell, your eyes are a mirror to your soul, and that is the most wondrous thing about you… that is the reason I choose to trust you…"
Diarmuid listened silently, his eyes cast down again escaping the fiery ones. If his eyes were truly a mirror to his soul as the younger blond was claiming, then should he believe him or believe his own self?
"What took over you was your intuition, you desire for justice as a knight… you have freed your friend from a dark path… it was the only way for him to go without being humiliated or pained even more… you saved him from himself!"
How parched were the lancer's ears to hear these words which his mind could not mouth and his heart could not believe, but when spoken by the governor's solacing tone of sadness and affirmation, they were suddenly donned in nobility and the possibility of being the ultimate truth that the cruelty of its execution deluded the man who committed the act into believing it was a vile crime… another abandoned vow. When Germanous saw the glow returning slowly through the dimness that dominated the lancer's eyes throughout the conversation, he, still kneeling, asked of the knight.
"Would you join my troops in my upcoming quest?"
The lancer had heard about the southern invasion by barbaric tribes, and fighting along the Roman legions was not a new occurrence to him butt his last contribution in alongside them in battle had noble reasons, to protect innocent civilians and not to add to the glory of the people who had enslaved him and corrupted his fate.
"Innocent civilians were also killed and poor villages pillaged… if we do not stop them now, they will continue until they reach our doors… I know you do not care for the last part… but as you are still a knight of honor and duty…"
"Let me think…"
Germanous stopped his speech surprised by the answer he was not expecting. He believed the lancer would immediately agree upon hearing these words, the same words that motivated him to stand by the Roman soldiers against the gang of criminals and thugs but he was not in a strong position to argue any further. He threw the bait and had to patiently wait, wishing the conclusion the lancer would reach would be what he desired.
"Of course. But know that I only trust your blades to protect me."
Germanous tightened his chilly fingers around the lancer's hands, pressing a gentle kiss to the latter's knuckles, like a maiden wishing luck for her chosen knight. That said knight was not taken aback, merely feeling pity for the desperate lonely man.
Diarmuid walked the governor to the door, bypassing snoring Sextus who was prostrating in his seat. After the governor left, without any goodbyes or adding any more words, Diarmuid returned to the garden looking in frustration at the unceremonious state Sextus was in, imagining this to be his own end in some alley or some worn down shed and he shook his head in disgust at the thought.
He knew he would not allow himself to sink this low, he was a warrior after all, and every day and hour reminded him of this fact and ensured him of his capabilities honed beyond perfection with every battle and game.
His name was supposed to shine and had indeed shone but under a different sun, the sun of a faraway land from the one of green and emerald. The problem was that his name had continued to shine and rise sublimely even beneath the sun of this foreign land that took him as a token from his previous home. Despite the slavery he was bound to, he was not disrespected or looked down on, he was called for, needed, admired, revered by many contrary to what happened in the last few years when he was still home, having to hide his identity and be on the watch from any lurking threat.
Was he not back then in the same sense of the word "slavery" a slave to his fears and anticipations? A slave to Grainne's love that brought them both misfortune, to Fionn's orders then pursuit of revenge? The only difference here, is that he could walk proudly again, raising his head and looking down on whomever he did not deem worthy.
If fate fell into a new whim, and granted him the wish to go back home, could he walk proudly again like he does here now? Could he raise his head, all high and mighty? He will be returning alone, without the young friend and pupil captured with him, for the latter was taken forever by the sole force none can negotiate with, manifesting itself in the form of the tips of his twin spears.
Could he face Grainne with the same confidence and charm? These two had morphed now into something else, retaining their name but taking a different shape, the shamed princess would not understand or be enchanted by anymore.
What was more important was the question if he still harbored the same feelings toward the woman, or did they start to dwindle the way her beauty and grace dwindled with every passing horrifying night of their eloping journey of hide and seek?
He could use Ilianus's logic, blaming everything on the unopposed power of fate that no man can stand against, and move on with his life whether back home or here.
But his circumstances was different from the giant's, he had lost his name and the nobility it symbolized, he had lost the woman for whom his honor was abandoned, and every following act was not dictated by fate as much as it was dictated by his own will.
Time and fate had taken from him everything; his knighthood, his lover, his friends, his freedom and kept one thing; his warrior's soul, his bravery, his talent, his winning streak.
Time and fate had distorted his past which could never be repaired but then gifted him a present though twisted and dark, but it guaranteed a sinister yet certain future of glory and immortality as a warrior.
He grew up as a fighter, loved amidst chases and battles, paving the path for that love in a carnage of blood and dishonor. And now, nothing differed much, he was still a warrior but regained his respect and adulation.
He walked as a free man, spoke like a free man, and if he dared to face his soul, he would know every kill he scored, he did as a free man, out of his own will and could not blame anyone but himself.
So perhaps his future was here, and his past had to dim away along his name back home because there was nothing but shame and betrayal to return to.
If the past did not repeat itself here, along Germanous's company toward the bright future he envisioned and the many promises he offered, he could become himself once again, or at least regain few shards of his older self.
For now, the past was defiled, the present twisted but the future did not lose his allure and appeal, calling him still, despite everything, despite himself trying to deafen his ears to his calls.
Maybe the future laid here.
***
Few days later, Laurentius had finished preparing everything with the same speed and sufficiency he had taken care of the "Justice Pallbearers" plan of attack with. All what was left, was for the leader of the campaign to show and he did not delay. Germanous left his palace, where his army and soldiers were ready to heed his commands and depart. To say he was not afraid of death was a big lie, but he could not show that. More than death, he was frightened by the possibility of a coup d'état that even Laurentius's honest gaze did not calm down. He tried to hide the shaking of his hands as he embraced the counselor's arms, entrusting him with the city's affairs in his absence.
Few days later, the commoners of the city aligned along the streets and gates watching in fearful anticipation the march of their legions and troops, headed by their governor, wearing for the first time his gear of war and fastening a sword to his waist.
They were going to defend them and stop the upcoming invasion.
And by the governor's side, right behind him, less than few feet apart from him, the dual wielder was riding his horse and packing his twin spears on his back, both beckoning to the early morning rays.