For the first time, the citizens witnessed their current governor in his war gear, wearing a golden armor along a helmet with a red fiery plumage, radiating the same power and tyranny of his rid irises. His horse was white, opposite to his close follower's black horse, and who chose light to almost no armor at all, content with his twin blades, his presence the true gem adorning and empowering the procession, while the rest of the chosen legions and troops followed in spectacular order. Hands praying for victory were raised and the beseeches to the gods were loudly heard calling for defending their lands and restoring the southern borders.
The city was divided into two groups; one defending Germanous and praying for his triumphant return, as he miraculously cured the city from the plague of the "Justice Pallbearers", while the other group traced these consequent occurrences as bad omens pertaining to the bad luck the governor had brought with his rule. Germanous was not unaware of this reputation he had gained among some of the citizens and was assured of its truth by a huge part of the counselors adding to his worries and fears. His back was now left wide open, its destiny in Laurentius hands, and his front was heading to battle the unknown. The only reassurance he possessed for his personal safety was the two spears that glowed along the dawn rays behind him, but to what extent could he use their sharpness and appeal to protect his position and reputation, to affirm his popularity? The mere sight of the glorified lancer riding behind the governor in an act that relayed a message to the masses that he had acknowledged the other's authority and supported his decisions, which was enough to silence some bad – mouthing about the blonde governor.
The governor needed the dual wielder to stay alive, to triumph, and attribute this fact to the heavens, that they chose him over every other candidate for governing the city, including his "ailing father" as the masses viewed the lancer as a heavenly god descending upon them from the far lands of the Celts. At the same time, he needed him close to his side, away from the battlefield to ensure no one would sneak on him and assassinate him like many leaders before him but that would defeat the former purpose. Another speculation, pertaining again to the legendary status of the lancer among the commoners was the possibility of becoming a martyr for the sake of a debated governor and which would ensure his prestige and worthiness if such an honorable warrior died for his sake in the battle he was leading.
The loss and the victory of the lancer weighed the same in Germanous's balance, and while this satisfied his practical mind it left a twinge in his hesitant heart, merciless at times yet dreamy and fragile at others.
After several days of silent travelling, the legions finally arrived at the desired location, few meters away from the southern borders, camping at a point where they were hidden but able to clearly see the breech in the sturdy walls and the damage inflicted on the villages they embraced. Scouts were sent to locate the invading barbaric site and the approach of a battle drew closer and closer as everything seemed to play correctly on the governor's board, as if the stars of heavens were blessing these legions that came to defend their fellow citizens and soldiers and prevent any further destruction and pillaging.
The enemy seemed to moving randomly, without a designated plan or clear course for their invasion, tackling the hefty matter as if it was their usual wars and raids of touch and go among themselves and other similar tribes. But despite these favorable circumstances, Germanous could not allow himself to be optimistic; he listened to the opinions and arguing of his commanders silently nodding, neither supporting nor deriding anyone's views as he had no experience or desire to be expert in battle leading and battalions wars. Again, the lancer's presence was a great gift he was glad to be blessed with, as the latter was well aware, coming from similar tribes, of their techniques and randomness that were even bellow his own tribes and clans level. These were people with no ancestry or heritage, with no unifying king or organized legions, they held no desire other than killing and stealing to secure their winter supplies and needs. An invasion of the whole province probably was not one of their goals, far beyond their aspirations. They fought according to the surviving soldiers randomly with no plans or tactics. And despite the rest of the commanders dismay, they had to give the lead to the lancer who with one gaze at the map and the landscape, came with the perfect plan and time for attack. All the while, Germanous was watching silently, ashamed of his ignorance and his obligation to agree with the dual wielder as he was the one who brought him along the battalions in the first place.
"What does my Lord Germanous suggest?"
The blond was awakened from his day – dreaming startled, and found all the eyes pointed at him, staring and waiting for his final word. His eyes then locked at Diarmuid's, the only indifferent pair among judging and rushing ones and he felt a soothing breath warp around his jumping heart.
"Do as the lancer tells you to do, he has the best experience against such invaders."
Germanous stopped his slip of tongue to add the description "uncivilized" as many Romans viewed other countries or lands in order not to insult the guardian he had brought with him. On a different subject, despite the trust he had given to the lancer unconditionally, the words left a bitter taste in his mouth, not one of envy or lack of trust, but one tracing to his own inability to match anyone standing in his tent. The generals looked for a prolonged period at him, seemingly everlasting, but he did not change his stance nor his opinion, standing solid like the trees outside and trying to infuse with false confidence his knowledge of what was about to happen and what had happened through an undisputed authority. He could pray things would work out fine, and that he had not misplaced his judgment and trust, two things that had never happened while he put his fate repeatedly between the lancer's hands.
The meeting was over, the plan for the attack readied and discussed multiple times down to the minute details, only waiting the next dawn to be realized and birthed into reality hoping to morph into an astounding victory. The last part that had to be done was assigning a leader as Germanous was not a fighter and everyone knew this and scorned it silently within themselves. Following Laurentius's advice, he appointed the eldest of the generals to take lead of the upcoming battle, as he could not appoint a slave as a leader to a group of experienced proud generals who had spent their youth and lives in the army but this was not something new or humiliating to the lancer, after all he was a knight serving a king, not a king or an emperor.
***
The night before the battle, Diarmuid was called into the governor's tent among the whispers of the servants and peering eyes of the soldiers but as usual, the lancer did not care to address the meaning behind what ill or perverted speculations these stares conveyed and hid. He entered the tent and found Germanous sitting on the edge of his bed, hiding his face with his hands.
"This must be difficult for you, leading your first campaign."
Diarmuid was the first to start talking, abandoning his habit of listening to the sitting man's complains first then reassuring him as he knew what dire thread he was hanging by.
"It is not difficult as it is humiliating… I hate bloodshed… this war is no different that the games Sextus organizes… all bloody and monstrous…. I am not a man suitable for this…"
"It is never late to learn and adapt."
The lancer threw the words casually, admitting to the change he had to go through without spelling the words out loud, but Germanous did not find them encouraging or suitable for his currently storming mind and circumstances.
"Besides, this is a duty you should adhere to and learn to perform if you want to affirm your complete authority over everything as a governor. This campaign is nothing compared to the arena's games."
The lancer spoke this time more sharply, trying to lessen the offence he was delivered unintentionally by Germanous who opted to correct his mistake immediately.
"This is true… I am sorry… the life of the citizens and soldiers cannot be compared to the lives of convicts and gla…"
Germanous stopped once again, hiding his face deeper into the palms of his hands, as he continued to deliver one insult after another to his companion.
"I did not mean to… I am sorry…"
"I know where I stand, I need not be reminded."
Diarmuid simply stated, without bitterness or anger which surprised the governor,
who slowly peeled his face away from his hands and looked at the man still standing while talking to him. Did he give up already? Did he surrender to his reality? But eyeing him, his allure was still there, and the brilliance of pride and defiance was still blazing his golden orbs making the governor wonder; were they ingrained features of the man's composition, not altered despite what state his mind and heart were in? Or was he still rebellious against his current position and trying to free himself, never giving up? The blonde had to believe in the latter or otherwise, all his visions and keenness would be shattered and proven useless. The sole talent he possessed for reading people's correctly and admiring them accordingly would prove nothing than an illusion similar to what many called his dreams and visions.
"I cannot believe you are still siding with me… all of these generals are here because of my uncle but you alone… believe in me… despite the rumors of the bad karma I have brought upon the province with my insistence on taking my father's duty…"
"The vows of a knight are not easily broken."
"But I have promised nothing… I realize that you…"
Both men remained silent at this awkward realization. The vows Diarmuid had presented to the weak governor with barely reaching hands into anything, were nothing more than a habit, a trial at restoring his status as a knight, his nobility as a warrior, his lost honor as a loyal and brave soldier. But these notions alone were enough as temporary psalm to his ever – seeping wounds with every day, offered truthfully and faithfully to this weak being. But Germanous could accept that, he did not want to be a mere psalm, a transient spell that raise the spirit of the doomed man in front of him. So, as a sudden determination took over him, he raised his head and held the lancer's hands, pressing them as strongly as he could and promised.
"You will not stay a slave, and I will not remain a doubted governor, we shall both, together, assert our power and freedom, I will be a true governor that tends to every matter regarding his province even if it was out of the realm of my interest, with your help and support… and thus I will make you a free man, a general… an entire legion shall hold your name and obey you… just like in your previous days of glory in the green isles… You will hold my banner and I will hold your status and glory… each one of us completing the other…"
The words sounded like a dreamy melody played by a mysterious flute, its position never revealed yet clearly heard though at a vague distance that only longing hearts could measure and turn their torn shreds in its direction to be re – gathered by the flawless music. The last few months had taught the lancer to forget about dreams and the optimistic thoughts brought by them, but at the governor words and willful eyes he fell again to the charm of regaining his glory. He had already realized nothing could be regained back home, but this new land offered him new opportunities and with a twist of fate, what he shamed the others for, he found himself clinging to and following in the same footsteps he had mocked and disdained but his pride still did not allow himself to compare his path to Caratacus or any other fallen foreign warrior. Fate was simply too cruel for him that he had to play the same twisted game against it, if he wanted to remain the winner and not turn into a forgotten page of history where his tales of vigor and bravery should have been eternalized before his scandalous affair with the disgraced princess.
"Tomorrow you will depart for battle…"
Germanous stated after a brief silence, after he let go of the lancer's hands. The thought seemed to be troubling his mind, afraid of the soldiers that would stay behind to protect his tent, afraid of a sudden ambush, afraid of the night and its transformation into a new day that might refuse to embrace his existence. Diarmuid nodded and to that, the governor suggested, in a tone akin to despair.
"You have already discussed the plan and what it entails in details… they should be able to carry it on their own… there is no need for you to go into the battle…"
Only after the words had left Germanous's mouth, and upon seeing the puzzled expression on the radiant knight's face, did he recognize the contradiction he was opposing with the promises he had just made. He chuckled in self – despair, his head falling down as he shook it, he was already creating circles around his promise, ensuring his end of the deal alone but Diarmuid did not stay silent. He recognized the governor's fears very well and found them ungrounded. He sharply questioned the blond, pulling him back into the ongoing moment.
"Did you bring me here as your guarding dog or as your trump card?"
The blond raised his head, realizing he could not insult the speaking man any further, so he replied softly.
"I brought you here because I believe in your blades… and in your vows to me…"
"Then these blades shall not fail to bring you victory or to protect you at any cost."
The promise was heavy, a little bit contradictory. If he was on the battlefield, miles away from the scared boy, then how could he protect the lost being confining himself to his tent? Maybe knights possessed keen senses of danger and the right timing for interference… and Germanous had to believe in this magic and trust the lancer's words.
One more ugly possibility remained, one that cannot be ignored or calmed down like the previous one. One that cannot be bargained with or won over. The possibility of the lancer's death which at the moment upset the blonde more than anything else, despite its practical use if happening.
"Promise me one more thing…"
Diarmuid listened carefully before he chuckled then burst into a loud laugh at the governor's request.
"Do not die tomorrow…"
The governor was not offended by the laughter that held dangerous power to take over any listener's heart, as it brightened the man's features and lifted his lips and eyes corners in a charming allure. Also, it was not out of place hearing such a ridiculous demand that can never be guaranteed and the joke sounded too good it actually brought a truthful smile to the lancer's face, one that had not graced his beautiful features for a long time.
This plea should have reminded him of Grainne's beseech every time they were chased or cornered but now, these words fragranced with no scent from the past, only the current unstable present perfuming it with the scent of childish fears emanating from the governor, forced the much larger man to kneel by his side, like a father or a mentor to ease his foreboding thoughts regarding tomorrow's battle. He dared to rest his callous hand on the small of the governor's back, rubbing it soothingly as he spoke softly, whispers that enchanted many girls and maidens but were now meant to restore the wavering governor's confidence.
"Did you not choose me because you believe in me and my blades? Did you not restore these same blades unharmed and untainted by yourself? Then, they shall never fail you… and even in my death, I know I will be fulfilling my vows to you… so you should not lament it…"
Germanous turned to the speaking man with a shocked face, was the lancer aware of his thoughts? Did he measure the uses of his life and death and the benefit that could be grown from each? Was he that keen of his surroundings? Did he view the governor, despite his offered pure vows, as such a monster? Shame suddenly overwhelmed Germanous's feelings and he wanted to run as fast as he could or turn and curl on himself away from the warm reassuring hand, despite his yearning to build a shell for himself and hide in it like a tortoise, never coming out. But while gazing at the bronze eyes, shimmering like a purely melted gold from an untarnished mine, he preferred to believe the lancer's words were the remnants of his chivalry and nobility, a testimony to his honor and faithfulness toward a weak being like himself, and at this thought he realized he could never risk losing him, his direct confrontation, his frank opinions, his grounded loyalty and his honor which he bargained it for nothing.
He could not lose this man, these traits that weaved the picture to the perfect dream and the mean to immortalize his name that he wished and worked for.
Unconsciously, and to the lancer's surprise, the governor's two nervously interlacing hands found their way to his cheeks, each embracing one, as he pulled the lancer gently, lips toward lips, parting them with his first chaste kiss, and the warrior could not retaliate as the kiss was neither invasive nor perverted but brief and honest, just like the red eyes that stared proudly and longingly at him and the lips that prayed for his safety and triumph.
He should never lose that man.