by J. McSpadden
"How am I supposed to tell her she brutally murdered an entire village? How am I supposed to break it to her that the whole reason Praetorians were exiled is because of what she did?" Vesyon continued, wishing he had more tobacco to smoke.
Phillip shook his head. "You know that's not entirely true; the High King exiled Praetorians because of what he wanted. She was a pawn in his game, and we both know she never would've destroyed Charlie Town of her own free will. If I can forgive her for what she's done to my family, then she'll be able to see it that way too."
"Yes, but he didn't kill them. Camille did. Innocent men, women, and children. I can't tell her that. It'll break her heart. Not just your wife, but also Peter's wife and their daughter. Telling her the truth will destroy her no matter how you or Peter have been able to cope. I have no idea what really set her off the first time and Ma'Nada knows what might flip that switch a second time."
"You do know what set her off, Captain. Her mother had gone missing two months prior, and Camille had received a message that night from Jesabelle written in her own hand."
Vesyon vehemently shook his head. "Jessie didn't send that message." He paused after uttering his favorite nickname, his mouth going dry. It wasn't like him to talk about Jesabelle, or to reminisce about his long-gone beloved.
Phillip stood and went to a crystal decanter, filling a small glass with ruby red wine and offering some to Vesyon.
Though he would typically abstain, Vesyon accepted the wine and greedily gulped it down.
"She thinks the King Regent is heading here on the High King's request for her and that's it?" Phillip asked, his voice taking on a note of business. They'd known each other long enough to understand the violent effects of their past, and how it was never good to dwell there for too long.
"That's right."
Phillip's eyebrows rose toward the short brown hair he kept impeccably well-groomed at all hours of the day. "You've obviously become a better liar these days, Captain—but you need to tell her what the King Regent is actually coming here for. What he intends to collect."
"There's no need because he won't find it."
"Perhaps. But Metus doesn't know that, and neither does she."
Vesyon looked at Phillip square in the eyes, the deep tones of the General’s ebony features angled with contrast in the flickering light. "Camille doesn't need to know. The less she knows, the safer we are around her. We have twelve days until the army is at our doorstep; that gives me some time to figure out a backup plan."
Phillip drained his glass before pouring himself another round. "Your plans will backfire on you one of these days. I hope you realize that."
Vesyon shrugged, but Phillip was undeterred.
"You tell her, Captain, or I will."
It would be idiotic not to acquiesce to the General, and Vesyon nodded his head in agreement as a sigh escaped his lips; he could only keep Camille in the dark for so long, no matter the consequences.
***
Camille woke in a haze of delicious warmth, blankets cocooning her body like a perfectly conformed second skin. For several disorienting moments, she couldn't figure out where she was, or what had startled her awake. Moonlight filtered in through the slivered window above her head, a subtle blinking haze of bluish light casting patterns across her green bedspread.
It was quiet, the kind of quiescence that pressed into her eardrums with unrelenting force. She usually woke to the soft rumbling snore of Lunci, a gentle press of Neeko's paws as he stretched at the end of her bed, or the tender song of early birds rising for breakfast; but now there was nothing. Silence enveloped her ears as the sleepy stupor cleared and a sharp pang of loneliness struck her chest without warning. Her mind raced with the recollection of Theo, his lips pressing against hers with such heat and wanton desire. There was no sense lying about it; she wanted more. Her stomach flipped at the thought of him being in her room again. She groaned and rolled onto her side.
According to the reflection panel just above her bed, dinner had been several hours ago based on the moon's placement through her window. The "sky" outside was bright, with wisps of clouds that obscured the moon's rays from time to time.
Camille rubbed at her eyes, and the second her lids closed she saw the image of her hand gripping a sword drenched in blood. Her breathing rose to a rapid staccato, and Camille blinked into the darkness, willing the hallucination to cease.
"Neeko?" Camille whispered to the shadows, trying to slow the galloping beat of her heart. There were a lot of places a black cat could disappear, and a room lit dully by a technologically generated moon didn't offer many clues about the animal's location.
Soft padding from the end of the bed crept up the blankets toward her, followed by a gentle purring. Neeko walked straight up to Camille and nuzzled at her fingers, before gently tugging on her hand in a request that she accompany him. She didn't even think twice; it had become a sort of ritual between them. Neeko had always pulled Camille into the woods at night, a kind of training of a different caliber. It had never been clear to Camille what Neeko was, but she'd always known he wasn't just a cat dead-set on killing mice—though he played the role well when necessary. He had a bright light of intelligence beaming from his yellowed gaze and she never doubted that he understood her every word.
Camille obediently peeled the heavy blankets away from her half-dressed form and fell prey to a case of the shivers. The wooden floors against her feet shot sparks of bitterness into her bare toes as she shuffled toward the side table drawers to retrieve an extra shirt, fluffy white socks, and freshly laundered pants.
She quickly glanced in the mirror above the side table and ran her fingers through her mess of tangled hair, opting to leave it loose down her back.
Neeko purred loudly from the doorway, urging Camille to follow without further delay. "All right, I'm coming," Camille murmured back, smiling as she opened the door and followed him into the main hall. Despite their one-sided conversations, Neeko always gave her a sense of ease when he was in her presence.
Walking up four flights of stairs and tiptoeing down endless amounts of hallways, Camille couldn't help but wonder where they were going. She was utterly lost yet again. If she ever needed to find her way back to her own room, she'd be hard-pressed to do it without a map. She prided herself on her expertise in tracking, but the metal, cement, and plastic compound appeared insanely upside down and backward in her tracking mind.
Neeko gave no purr or meowed response to her queries of where they were going, just continuing at a clipped pace up another flight of stairs and down a long corridor much less stark in color and appearance than the others.
The walls there were lined with heavy red panels of smooth cherry wood, and Camille's boots were soundless on the weathered cobblestone floor. There were no harsh fluorescent lights here, but soft glowing lamps emitting a gentle orange glow every twenty paces. It felt as though they had been transported into a completely different compound; the starkness was gone, and for the first time since arriving at Romeo Village, Camille felt a fondness for her surroundings.
The hallway abruptly ended at a metal spiral staircase shooting straight up through the ceiling. Neeko didn't even pause; he alighted on the first step and bounded higher, disappearing from Camille's view in moments. She approached the spiral staircase and looked up into what appeared to be the hollowed insides of a huge redwood. Camille's jaw dropped, and she was no longer worried about what she would find at the top.
She bounded up the steps two at a time, anxious to see what might be waiting for her. The last step up the winding stairs opened to a small landing stretched out from one of the topmost branches of the tree. An inlay of beams, netting, and foliage kept their perch well out of sight. Outside of a small open viewpoint along the far edge, they were well hidden from both intruders on foot and from the air.
There, Vesyon stood, silently staring into the stillness of their surroundings, leaning casually against a support beam. Dragging on a wor
n wooden pipe, he glanced at Camille before motioning for her to come closer.
"We're here in Romeo Village for a particular purpose, and I'm sorry I haven't yet explained to you why we must stay," Vesyon said after a long drag on his pipe.
He had a way of starting a conversation without any pretenses, which would typically catch Camille off guard. With Vesyon, it felt natural; there was never any fuss when he was trying to make a point.
He focused once more on his pipe, occupying his hands with the loose tobacco poking out the top of the opening.
"It would be nice to be in the know," Camille said, trying to keep her yawns at bay. "And I take it Neeko's loyalties lie with you? Ever since I first saw you, he's been quite attached."
Vesyon smiled at Neeko where he was standing guard at the top of the stairs. "Yes, he's a longtime companion. I requested he stay with you at Sierra Village."
"As a spy?" Camille said with a wry smile which caught Neeko's attention. He peered over at her, eyes wide with hurt, and she immediately felt terrible, offering him a hand for scratching his back against which he quickly accepted.
Vesyon didn't even pause before responding as he watched the black and brown cat cuddle against Camille's feet. "As a protector," he corrected. "He's a Felius Metamorphi: a shapeshifter and a gift from an old friend."
Vesyon brought his pipe to his lips and pulled in a hefty amount of smoke. Camille watched as the tendrils rushed out his aquiline nose, trailing upwards into the night sky before dissipating into nothing.
"Are there many of those that you know of?" Camille asked, her amazement of the furry friend she'd had for almost a year expanding quite drastically.
"Only one other that I am aware of, but that discussion is for another time," he said quickly, effectively stubbing out the conversation before changing directions. "Have you had any flashes of the rebellion? Memories of the Praetorian exile? Anything from before your imprisonment with LeMarc?"
Camille shook her head, afraid of what her voice might reveal. Vesyon eyed her curiously from a distance, making her feel as though he saw right through her.
"Nothing at all?"
She bit her lip, uncertain of how to express the random, incoherent visions she'd seen so far. Vesyon nodded once as though understanding her hesitancy.
"The rebellion didn't begin suddenly; it started slowly, a steady beast growing in strength over time," he said as his stare clouded over. "About seventy years ago, just before LeMarc became High King, the gates to the outer kingdoms were open. There were lines between the Kingdoms, but the trade routes were open and the understanding of peace was strong. Five Kingdoms, fives shores, and peace in our realm.
"LeMarc's father, High King Lucas, ruled with a sure and strong hand but understood the value of compromise and strong trade routes. It was he who bartered with the outer kingdoms for treaties of peace. His reign in the early years was fraught with battle, the struggle between Aspera and Dai'Cia Kingdom constant. The Dai'Cian Queen was greedy and power hungry. After the Queen was usurped by one of her own, High King Lucas drafted a treaty of peace with the new Queen of Dai'Cia. There were almost fifty years of peace between our lands." Vesyon sighed, exhaling a hefty amount of smoke in the process. "That was a very long time ago."
A ghost of a smile tugged at the edges of his lips, and Camille realized that Vesyon himself had been there during the time of High King Lucas. She didn't know much about Vesyon, let alone his history, but she recognized a look of wistful remembrance when she saw it.
"High King Lucas died one summer. It was a quick death; I was just a child. LeMarc stepped into power, and our kingdom turned a different direction. The change didn't take long, a couple years at most, and suddenly our kingdom's bliss was thrown into complete and total chaos." He focused momentarily on his pipe again, pressing more tobacco down the opening even though it was full. "LeMarc had been the High King for just over seven years when the Chimera virus broke out. Thousands of people and entire villages were wiped out in the blink of an eye. It was terrifying. There was no cure, no clue you were infected until it was too late to try to save you. Families, friends, and entire villages were burned to the ground for fear of spreading the virus across Aspera. Most gave up or gave in before it even got to them."
His eyes sparkled softly in the dim starlight and held a tenderness Camille was confident he didn't often show. "Out of the blue LeMarc offered a cure—a solution," he continued. "Asperians took to it like bees to honey. He was the High King, after all, so no one questioned him.
"His first order was to close the Asperian gates and divide the remaining people into quarantined villages to rid us of any residual viruses. This, of course, seemed like a brilliant idea to those afraid of it spreading. Most didn't realize that those already infected didn't get to take part in this—they were removed entirely, never to be seen again. What was worse, those quarantined had little chance of traveling."
It wasn't hard to see where the story was going, and Camille felt a rumbling unease settle in the pit of her stomach as Vesyon continued.
"His second order was a request for an elite army to push the boundaries of Aspera in search of more land and loyal subjects to the crown. On the surface his message was sincere, but the route was severe. Those loyal to the crown pushed north, east and south of our borders, spreading the word of the High King and preaching his devout faith in Faeder to anyone willing to listen. He gained land and some willing subjects, but his style of conquering put a sour taste in the mouths of those unwilling to conform.
"I thought the northerners were devout Daeites? Believers in Ma'Nada like Peter."
"You're correct. Not many took well to LeMarc's demands that they believe in his god. Those in Dai'Cia and Dwaa are firm believers in Ma'Nada, the old ways and the many gods of her kingdom. The Dai’Cian are proud people and active in their faith. LeMarc's pressure into their lands caused a massive rift against their peace treaties. Being the power-hungry king that he is, LeMarc was never one to ask; he demanded fealty. If one didn't fall to their knees in honor of him and his god-given righteousness, he killed them. Without a second thought and without care. In the early years, his goals were land, loyal subjects, and the spreading of his faith in the Holy King.
"Several years after the external fighting began, the Chimera virus broke out in multiple villages across Aspera once more, and we needed another solution. A stronger solution."
The wind picked up across Romeo, pushing a dense fog in from the eastern shore. It blanketed the snow-dusted treetops before them like a bath of milk, allowing only the tallest of trees to remain in sight. Those still viewable stood fiercely defiant, solitary soldiers in a silent sea running up the vast hillside and distant mountains bordering the Dwaa Kingdom.
Vesyon coughed gently to clear the smoke from his lungs before taking another swift puff. "It was then that LeMarc installed the Praetorian Guard," Vesyon continued. "Offering protection to the people while he distributed an antidote and continued his crusade. To many, this would be a new beginning. Praetorians were the protectors of the people," he shrugged as though trying to rid himself of an annoying overcoat. His brow hung low over his deep-set grey eyes, and he appeared almost angry.
"At least, that's what we were told," he bit out, shoving new leaves into his pipe despite the smoking embers smoldering a deep red in the depths of the pipe end.
"LeMarc created the Praetorians and also distributed the antidote for the virus?" Camille asked in shock.
"He had a hand in it," Vesyon replied in an offhanded way. His eyes scanned the horizon line as though searching for a better explanation, but his mouth remained firmly closed.
"That didn't seem strange?"
"A lot of things back then were strange," Vesyon said, a haunting smile gracing his lips for a mere second before sliding away. "But no one was willing to question his motives. He took control of the southern lands, the Kingdom of Dwaa conquered. Their lands and goods owned by the High King and his righteously holy r
ule."
"The mountain lands belong to the High King?"
Vesyon grunted, pulling deeply on his pipe and expelling the smoke in a quick exhalation. "More or less, when his rule was strong."
"And his rule isn't as strong now?" She picked up the bag of pipe tobacco and lifted it to her nose. The earthy spice slipped up her nose and filled her lungs. It struck a chord in her memory, but she couldn't place the time or the location. He was there though, in her history, in the back of her mind where she'd lost everything and everyone.
While living in Sierra Village, she hadn't minded the absence of self. The lost memories and blank history had become a part of her. Now, however, the lack of history felt like a disease, like there were holes in her body that she was desperate to fill.
"Those against LeMarc are pushing back."
"Why now?" Camille asked, tucking the edges of the tobacco bag closed again.
"The Kingdom isn't as strong as it once was—before LeMarc went into hiding," Vesyon said as he watched Camille drop the tobacco back on the wooden plank between them.
"Just like the glory of this kingdom, the beauty of being a Praetorian didn't last. Before long it was rubbed away. The cold hard truth remained: we weren't royal subjects or high breed socialites. We were nothing but glorified slaves to the crown, his trained assassins pressed to attend to his every command."
"You were forced to kill Asperians?"
"Asperians, Dwaans, Dai'Cian, all of them. No one was safe, and no Praetorian was pure," Vesyon said.
Camille gulped, immediately understanding what he was implying. She'd killed innocents too, and this realization made her insides squirm uneasily.
