Sextus's hands were shaking as they held the message they were delivered early that morning. His eyes after skipping through the lines many times, then reading its contents in details another few times, wandered in their white across the room as of looking for an escape from the words they have just read, and thus were informed of and could not ignore. He held to the sent letter so nervously he ended up curling it and throwing it aside on the table in front of him. Usually, when the arena's owner received letters from this certain person, the person to whom he owed so much of his success and wealth, to whom he owed the icon he looked up to, he would carry on the wishes or the orders without hesitation but this time it was difficult and different, both the timing and the order itself.
Sextus was a mild man in most cases, but he decided he would not be today, regarding this specific matter to be precise. Currently, his entire household was in chaos; packing the gold and necessary documents and every valuable possession to the last bronze denarii. It was no longer safe to stay in this city, and his reputation and reservoirs would help him establish a new arena somewhere else though leaving this place and the particular arena where he took his first steps into the world of light through passing dim corridors, where the echo of said steps consorted the wails of men and the growls of animals, was a tough decision where sentimentally, one of the man's weak points, did not have a place. His heart was struggling, beating against its will as if something was choking it. Tears could be seen glistening his lashes and the corners of his eyes, but he did not allow them to fall down. Maybe just a little, but not in front of the lancer when the latter came to his room at his demand.
"I am glad to see you here, Diarmuid."
It was an odd way to begin the conversation, as if they were too estranged friends or a couple at odds from last night, leaving the addressed man with a puzzled expression, ready to jeer at him but the perplexity of Sextus and the miserable state of mind and body he was in prevented the lancer from doing so at the last moment. So, he crossed his arms waiting in amusement the next odd thing to come out of the man's mouth.
"You know we are escaping this province, it is no longer safe. We do not know when we will be the next prey… is it a matter of hours or days? Nothing can be expected…"
"I know."
The lancer answered grimly. The whole city was in a state of panic. Those who could afford it had already escaped, others like Sextus were preparing to while the unfortunate souls remained confined by poverty and disease, as the barbaric tribes were plundering and looting through all four borders of the unfortunate province, the first one on their map of a larger more random invasion, as barbaric and as ruthless as their plundering.
"I do not suppose you plan on protecting this place… you have not been summoned, or ordered to… I expect you…"
Sextus was going in circles but he somehow hit the mark. It was true, unlike with the situation with the "Justice Pallbearers", Diarmuid was not asked to volunteer, neither he nor any other gladiator. Yet he in a certain way was obliged to stay behind, bound by the vows of loyalty he had made to the governor despite not seeing the latter for months as he was never summoned to the palace again after being delivered that twisted order. But Germanous did not free him from this bond as fragile as it was, a bond and an oath built up of mere words, the cheapest currency in this city.
How could the lancer explain this situation to Sextus? How could he tell him that he had pledged his alliance with the falling governor, though he had no official authority over him as he was a slave, belonging to another, not even to Sextus himself, but to the governor nemesis and greatest hater and enemy.
"I have already procured a secured route for escape, and you will join us of course… you know I can never step anywhere without you…"
The lancer's face must have showed its hesitation, for Sextus seemed afraid and disappointed even though he did not state his wishes yet. Diarmuid knew that if he were to explain his relation with the governor, Sextus would be silenced and would not prevent him, as he himself was an admirer of knightly vows and but the Celtic was saved from this explanation when his eyes fell on the curled thrown letter. Sextus followed the lancer's eyes as they examined the letter without holding it, then their eyes met.
"What of this letter? Is this not Sabina's hand writing?"
Sextus's jaw almost fell. Of course, perception was the strongest point a lance wielder possessed, but to be able to recognize the messed up letters through a curled paper was beyond what he defined as fine or accurate perception. He cursed himself for not burning the letter, and at the same prided himself with the man he was standing with.
Denying would only serve as a ridicule to the lancer's abilities, so Sextus admitted.
"Yes, it's a letter from her…"
"Not a favorable one, I see."
Diarmuid chuckled commenting on the state of the message, but Sextus abruptly stood up and confronted his favorite gladiator, his icon and perfect image of a man.
"It is indeed a letter from Lady Sabina… and she is … she is…"
Sextus once again returned to his circles, not adamant on revealing the letter's purpose but he had no other choice because the lancer could easily unfold and read it.
"She is asking me to send you to her, permanently… since it is a time of war and she needs protection…"
Diarmuid frowned, not happy with the letter's contents, showing the same distaste as Sextus. The cunning woman had already anticipated Diarmuid's choice and made the first move to ensure where he stands; by her side. And as her slave, he had no real choice but under the table, Sextus was offering him a third option.
"We can depart tonight, and no one will know… I can forge new papers… I can…"
Sextus rumbled, his hopes of the lancer staying by his side rising when he saw his frown upon hearing the woman's orders and he knew that his knight did not like the woman at all. He waited with jabbing heart the lancer's agreement but he did not see any interest in the proposal he had been offered. Instead, a look of deep pondering graced his face, soaking his elegant features with a tint of sadness and gloom.
"I thought you looked up to me as a knight."
How many times did Diarmuid had to repeat this sentence? How many occasions did he have to prove it true, only to reach a bitter end, one that was no different than when he himself did not adhere to this code. How many times did he have to affirm this title that belonged to him once, only to be stripped from it more and more by the eyes of the others who thought of him as such?
"I have never doubted…"
Sextus was stopped by the offended man who shook his head, beseeching him without words to stop talking. Sextus wanted to say that he had already left his king behind once, instead of saying he out right betrayed him, but he did not want to wound the lancer any deeper. The latter was smiling bitterly, his eyes seemingly in a trance belonging to the time he had spent with Sextus and fulfilled the latter's wishes and brought a phenomenal popularity and success to the man who could only dream. Sextus was not a perfect man, he was cruel at times when needed. He was not pure, he was deeply immersed in the trade of human flesh and souls, and Diarmuid was one of them. But nevertheless, he was a good man to him. He never looked down on him or intended to humiliate him when he proposed the greatness of the arena as a mean to mend his broken honor. Even with this last offer of escaping and leaving Sabina, his real owner, behind, there was no slight intended. But what Sextus did not know that the matter and the reason behind his choices were far more complicated. If he said he wanted to stay by Sabina's side, it was so that he could stay by Germanous's side. And until now, his resolve was not totally shaped. Sextus dreamt of knighthood and chivalry, so the last kindness the lancer could show the man was to teach him about true chivalry and the meanings of a knight's oath by being cruel and refusing his offer which he knew would devastate the man who needed what he thought to be an untainted mirror to see his reflection in.
"You have said you have read about the tales of knights and their deeds, you have said you admired what they embody… nobility, honor, and virtue…"
"Sabina does not deserve any of these virtues… she manipulated you… she forced you to fight your own…"
Once again, the lancer silenced the man rushing his words from messing up any further, preventing him from peeling the skin he had gotten used to and revealing a more sinister one. His words were true, but he was not innocent either.
"Were not every kill, including Oscar's death, a sacrifice ordained by her but made in your shrine?"
Sextus was stunned into silence, his shivering being gazed upon by golden orbs that he did not know were harboring this deep hatred. Though this hatred was not true in the lancer's heart, the statement he had made was utterly true and meant to make Sextus realize the big part he bears of the cross Sabina made and erected.
"You want to see what chivalry is, Sextus? It is not abandoning your lady at her times of need, or at any time… and Sabina is my lady now."
Sextus could not argue or he would be contradicting everything he openly admired the lancer for. But he still could not let go of the light he was blessed with, the reincarnation of what he had read and heard. His admiration was not just for what the lancer embodied, it had long outranged this limit and extended to the man himself, as he was. With all his faults and rights. He mockingly compared himself to the princess falling to the charms of the mysterious knight and Diarmuid realized this when he saw the hurt and the flash of the feeling of betrayal across the arena's owner's eyes. But if he wanted Sextus to move on, he had to carry on with his cruelty, for the man's sake, for him to open his eyes and realize that what he was admiring was a ghost from the past, a mirage reflected only by Sextus's eyes. If Diarmuid himself could no longer call himself a knight, grasping at this title with the last thread that was weaved in Germanous's picture and his unspoken vows to him, why should he allow the poor man to remain deluded? He had to wake him up for his own sake.
"I know Sabina is your lady… but was that your choice? What about our…friend… friendship!"
Sextus hesitated so much before he could utter the word "friendship" and the lancer had to deny any affection or gratitude he held toward the man.
"Is friendship a term used in your documents?"
Sextus was defeated. So cruelly by his own words and manipulation. He had tricked the lancer by his false pretense of owning him into fighting in the arena, all tethered to the document of ownership. Then he proved useless and unable to help the man he admired when he deserved his freedom, when Sabina resorted to unveiling the truth with the ownership documents. So the knight now defined bonds and comradery along what was written on documents and not by the wine toasted together or the conversations shared. Not by memories or feelings and Sextus, being a slave trader, could not argue back or refute with derision this definition of bonds.
"Tell me Sextus, does our document hold the word "friendship"? Do we even share a document together?"
Diarmuid repeated his question, his beautiful face mere inches away from Sextus's miserable face. Sextus feasted his eyes one last time at the immaculately carved features; the prominent sharp jaw line, the golden dangerous eyes, the neatly drawn eyebrows, and the chiseled features seeping with a noble beauty that transcended physical shape. His eyes lastly lingered at the teardrop – mole, where the knight's anguish and dishonor was held safely and proudly. The smirk of the fresh lips was the last thing he could focus at before the entire image of beauty and chivalry, as if molded to be a tribute to the gods, blurred bit by bit.
By the time Sextus awakened from his trance, Diarmuid was already at the door, giving his back to him, his choice evidently clear to the arena's owner. Sextus opened his mouth to say at least goodbye, but as he was faced by the lancer's brutal decision and confession, he did not have the right to even say these words, even if they were birthed out of a pure safety - wishing intent.
"This is chivalry Sextus, holding to your vows and protecting those who depend on you, whom you have a bond with. There is nothing between us but manipulation and lies."
Sextus nodded though the lancer did not see him, still giving him his back. When Sextus reopened his eyes, he expected the lancer to be gone, but he was still there at the door, tilting his head slightly, so he could see Sextus without the other being able of the same act. Finally he said before he left for real.
"You are not short of gladiators who would protect you, but I expect them to seize the chance to turn against you. Flee on your own with your family, as fast as you can."
Diarmuid spoke then retrieved his twin spears from the wall outside the room, his sole true belongings, and departed leaving a frustrated man behind, a betrayed man, if this word could fit what he was feeling. A man betrayed by the truth he held to and looked up at, desiring it to be his own but never granted the chance to even hold to what he deemed the finest mirror to reflect it.