by T. C. Edge
I...don't, really. This was where I trained under Rufus. Where I bonded with Finn and Gwyn. Where I fell in love with Dom. No, the circumstances weren't great, but a lot of good things happened here too.
"Do you miss it?" comes a croaky old voice, spreading from the top of the balcony above.
I turn my eyes from the old wooden sword and see Merk standing there, looking down upon me like Dom used to, a great gap-toothed smile upon his face. I find myself, despite everything, almost unable to stop from laughing as I take him in. Dressed so fine in colourful blue robes, his old stringy grey hair swept back and neatly cut, his face even showing signs of some work, as though the deep wrinkles that once criss-crossed it like lattice are now shallower and less pronounced than they were before.
"Sometimes," I say, holding my laugh at bay and merely smiling broadly. "You look... good, Merk."
He looks down at his clothes, shaking his head. "I know. I look ridiculous. But...I kinda like it. After everything that's happened to me, I feel like embracing it all."
"And so you should," I call up to him. "Master Merk. At least it's better than Merk 'the Mighty'."
His eyes dip, slightly embraced by the old nickname he used to give himself. I could never work out whether he was being serious, or just trying to be ironic. I dearly hope it's the latter, or the old sailer is far more deluded than I thought.
"Well, it's so good to see you, Lady Kira," he says. "And I heard about the upcoming wedding, of course. It's fantastic! There can't be a better couple from here to Haven. Or, well, New Haven. I'll be calling you Empress soon. Who woulda thought that!"
"Certainly not me," I say.
He chuckles lightly, enjoying his little joke. "So, come up, come up. I was just having a bit of brunch. Join me if you'd like."
"Well..."
"Or, is this not a social call?"
"I wish I could say it was, Merk."
He nods, suddenly serious. "Then come up anyway, my Lady. And tell me what you need."
I hurry up the stairs, entering into Dom's old villa. It's just as I remember it, not a thing having been changed. It's not overly surprising, given Merk's rampant hero-worship for the new Emperor. He probably treats this place as more of a museum than a home, feeling as though he can't move anything should Dom decide to take it back.
I find him there, in the main living room, some fine looking foods set out upon the table. I look at it for a second with raised eyes. "Is this all for you, Merk?" I ask.
He shakes his head awkwardly. "I've told them that they don't need to prepare so much," he sighs, "but they never listen to me. I hardly eat anything these days. I let them have the leftovers, of course, or have it sent down to Southside for the poor. Nothing goes to waste, I make sure of that."
"Good to hear. You're not the wasteful type."
He smiles. "Would you like some coffee? Food?"
I shake my head as a servant stands poised to pour, or gather me up a plate if I should so desire on. They look rather disappointed when I choose to go without. I take a seat, looking around the villa.
"Is Silia still here?" I ask.
Merk's smile lifts, his head nodding happily. Silia was one of the servants here when I was a gladiator, a young girl with a bright spirit and inquisitive mind. I remember Merk telling me that she reminded him of the daughter he'd lost many years before. It's nice to know that she's still here. You couldn't hope for a more kind-hearted and gentle master than Merk.
"She is," he says. "She helps run the house now. I...I try to make sure that the servants are more guests than staff as much as I can." He glances to the man currently standing by the food. "I don't feel altogether comfortable otherwise," he says, leaning in. He smiles. "Could you give us some privacy, please Felix?"
The young servant nods and slips quickly away, leaving Merk and I alone in his living room. He takes a sip of his coffee, and sets the cup back down. Whatever he says, Merk does seem to be rather more confident now. His new role and position has clearly had some effect on him.
"So, what is it you need me to do, Lady Kira?" he asks, setting his old, murky grey eyes on me.
"For a start, drop the 'Lady' for now," I say. "You're a friend, Merk. We don't need to be formal around each other."
He nods. "Of course."
"Other than that..." I take a breath, my mind taken by a sudden haste.
No time to lose, I think. There's no damn time to lose.
"You have a boat, don't you?" I ask him, direct.
He frowns, nodding. "I...I do. It's quite ridiculous really. Another overy generous gift from Emperor Domitian. It's a beautiful thing, moored down in Ostia. I haven't had much chance to use it yet, but..." He frowns, looking at me.
"Now might be a good time," I say.
"You...you need my boat?"
I nod. "I have to get home immediately," I say. "As soon as possible."
"What about the royal transports?" he asks. "Are you not planning to go with Emperor Domitian?"
I don't answer. My teeth clench as I think again of that chamber, probably still debating whether to send troops or not. It'll be a pitiful allowance if they do, I think grimly. That odious snake, Tiberius, will see to that.
I don't answer a second, my thoughts darkening.
"What's this about, Kira?" asks Merk softly, his old voice croaking. "Is there a problem in New Haven?"
My mind fills with visions of a city surrounded, of my people under siege. Of the evil Brie and I witnessed, spreading its black tendrils to the south...
"The Olympians are approaching," I say eventually. I see Merk's eyes widen. "Everything Brie and I feared is coming true. I have to get home immediately, Merk. I have to help my people."
Merk stands immediately, though the swift action looks to cause a bit of pain in his old joints. "Of course," he says, his voice vibrant and assertive, two qualities he isn't exactly known for. Then he frowns, and drops down again. "What about the alliance? Aren't troops being sent?"
I grimace at the thought. "I just left the council chambers," I say. "They're debating it right now, but it...it doesn't look good. I'm can't rely on them, and they'd never give me a ship. They're trying to make me into a lady. Well, screw that right now. I'm leaving, and you're my only hope."
Merk appears a little less energetic all of a sudden. "Just...you?" he asks. "Won't that be dangerous, Kira? I don't want to help you get there if you're going to get yourself killed..."
My expression flattens into something that cannot be argued or reasoned with. Merk clearly realises. He begins nodding again, mumbling, "Right. Of course. I'm sure you'll be fine..."
I cut him off. "Look, Merk, I don't have time to waste here. If you can't help me, I'll understand, and will look for another way. If you can, let me know now. I really don't have time..."
"I'll help you," he says immediately, confirming his position, even though his eyes still show doubt. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even be here. This whole ride I'm on...it's down to you, Kira." He nods again, as though to physically reinforce his conviction. "And I love New Haven. I don't want to see it under threat." He stands up again. "Of course, I will help you."
I smile, and stand as well, stepping forward to take the old man into an embrace. It still doesn't come naturally for me to display this sort of human contact, but I know Merk will appreciate it. "Thank you, Merk," I say. "Now, when can we go? I need to leave as soon as possible."
"Right now," Merk says, growing into the role, understanding the urgency. "We can head straight for Ostia, and leave immediately. Assuming conditions are good."
"Conditions?"
"Weather conditions," says Merk, an expert sailer and man of the sea. It's the one area where he really comes into his own, when talking on such topics. "Domitian isn't the largest vessel. Big enough, yes, but not so big that we don't have to worry about the weather and waves."
"Domitian? That's what you called the boat?"
"I...I thought I'd name it after..."
"I can guess, Merk. OK, well, you're the boss. We'll head down and see what's happening on the coast. You have a carriage that can take us?"
"It's parked outside the inner gate," he says.
"Well best if I stay hidden," I say. "I wouldn't be surprised if they stop me from leaving if they catch us."
Merk's expression, once again, shows an element of trepidation.
"Don't worry, nothing will happen to you if that happens. Just say I ordered you. And Dom will always protect you, you know that."
He relaxes a little, though I can understand his slight hesitation. Merk's history with the powers-that-be in this city has been a little turbulent over the last year.
I move towards the table, my stomach suddenly starting to grumble. With a plan beginning to emerge, I find the knots in there beginning to loosen, providing space for my appetite to bloom. I grab a lovely looking croissant and take a large bite.
"Should we take provisions?" I ask, munching.
Merk steps over. "Domiti...er, the boat is well stocked," he says. "I'll go speak with Silia, let her know I'll be gone for a week or two. Just, um, wait here for a bit. I won't be a moment."
He hurries off, his manner still showing me that's he remains conflicted over the entire affair. I feel a little guilty about that. If there was any other way, I'd take it. Frankly, I don't see that there is. Every hour I lose is another where my city might be suffering. I refuse to stay here and remain to the side like last time. I will not let the same thing happen again.
I begin pacing around the room, circling the main, luxurious sofa, trying to stay upbeat, munching on the bread as I go. I do a few rotations before I hear footsteps returning. I spin around on the spot and am met with a figure quite unlike the one that just left the room.
"Dom," I whisper, looking into his brown eyes as he steps forward, his own expression strained. "How did you know I was here?"
"Instinct," he says, pressing towards me. He takes my hands. "I know what you're doing here, Kira," he says.
I press him away, stepping backwards. "Then you know I have to go," I tell him. "I said it there in the council chambers, and I don't care what they think. I'm not about to let..."
"I know," he whispers softly. "I know. And I'm not going to try to stop you, darling. I'm here to say I'm coming too. I'm not going to give up on our alliance so easily."
"You'd do that?" I ask. "For...for me?"
He smiles warmly, his teeth contrasting so favourably with his smooth, olive skin. "Call it an early wedding present," he says. "The senate haven't agreed to it, but I'll deal with them when I get back. I've asked Lucius to try to get more support in the meantime, but I'm not holding my breath. Maximus and his men will have to be enough. It's something, at least."
"Max?" I say, feeling a swell of hope. "He's coming as well?"
"He's head of my personal cohort, and is duty bound to protect me," Dom says. "And on a more personal note, I'm pretty certain he's keen to rejoin Ares and the other Neoromans stationed over there. If it was up to most soldiers, they'd join up too. Unfortunately, the senate aren't going to let them."
"That doesn't surprise me. These Neoromans love a good fight. How many men does Max have?"
"He hopes he'll be able to get about a hundred," Dom says. "They're going to head right down to Ostia as soon as they've assembled. They're loyal to him, and to me. We're going to have to leave before anyone gets wind of it, and deal with the repercussions when we return."
"Oh...Dom." I move into his arms again, and draw him into a grateful, intense kiss. "Thank you for this."
"It's my duty," he says, almost blushing from the praise, "as Emperor, as ally to New Haven, and as your future husband. I'm not going to stand by while your people suffer, Kira."
I nod, my eyes falling, as he references our coming marriage. I don't say anything, but I sense he can see some doubt brewing in me now. Try as he has within the council, arguing at every turn on my behalf, there seems little he can do to give me exactly what I want, his hands ever tied by political red tape.
It is, I guess, the shackles of leadership. And when I get a chance, I'm going to have to think long and hard about what I really want.
And so will he.
More footsteps come scurrying, my ears picking up the sound before Merk enters, shuffling back into the room from one of the many corridors in his own, inimitable way. He stops in his tracks, his eyes smiling broadly at the sight of Dom.
"Emperor Domitian!" he says. "What a wonderful surprise."
"Good morning, Merk," smiles Dom. "I see you're keeping my old villa in fine order."
"Yes, sir, of course. Not a thing out of place, I can assure you."
"And would I be disappointed if there was?" says Dom. "My dear Merk, this is your home now. Do with it as you please."
Merk bows low, ever reverential around the young Emperor.
"But not now," Dom adds, his voice picking up some speed. "We have plenty to be getting on with."
Merk glances at me. He look a little confused.
"He's coming too," I say to the old man, smiling. "I...I'm not sure we need you anymore, Merk." I pull an apologetic face. "Sorry."
"Well, actually, that isn't quite true," says Dom. "If it's OK with you, Merk, we'd still like to use your vessel. It would be best to avoid any further entanglement with the senate by using one of the royal boats. We'll keep this as a private venture, and they'll have little to say against us. Does that sound OK?"
"Of course, sir," Merk says, bowing. "I am here for you to command. And, well...you gave me the boat so, it's really yours anyway."
"A gift, dear man," Dom says. "It is yours. Did you name it in the end?"
Merk turns a little abashed, a blush rising onto his leathery old cheeks. "I...I named it after you, sir. For...for all the good you did for me."
Dom laughs brightly. "I might have guessed, my friend. A lovely gesture, Merk. Now, shall we?"
Without a further moment to deliberate, and with Merk's household informed of his departure, we move swiftly downstairs and into the yard. There, I find a couple of Dom's Imperial Guards stationed next to his carriage, ready to escort us down to Ostia immediately.
He leads me over as Merk climbs aboard, grinning excitedly at this sudden turn of events. I'm taken to the rear, where a luggage compartment sits open. He steps in and pulls out a chest, and opens it up.
"I think, my darling, you forgot this in your haste," he says.
Inside, I see my old armour, worn during the games, now altered slightly to make it more durable, yet lighter, the perfect combat suit to accompany me to war.
I look at it and smile.
I will become the Red Warrior again.
14
Brie
"Adryan is going to kill me," I whisper, as we sneak off through the darkness, the night cold enough to show my breath.
Above, the moonlight is dim, hidden behind a slim film of cloud, the skies mostly blotted. It helps conceal us as we slip through the gloom, keeping low, hidden in outfits of slick black, invisible amid the darkness to all but the keenest of Hawks.
To my side, however, there is a small white glow, framed by a set of lips. I shake my head and whisper with a harsh hiss.
"Marcus, would you stop smiling. Those teeth of yours will give our position away."
My words only serve to widen his smile initially, before he finally gets the point and shuts his lips.
"Who cares what Adryan thinks," he says, making sure to keep his teeth under wraps as he does. "If he can't understand why we're doing this, then it's his problem. They're all as cold as one another, those Savants. They don't care about one man."
"Several men," I say, correcting him. "According to West, a number of Fangs were taken."
"You know what I mean. If Adryan gets angry with you for this, then clearly he doesn't understand you. He doesn't know what it means to be a warrior. You have to commit to the brothers and sisters beside you. You don't leave them behind, un
less you have no choice."
I look ahead again, the camp of the Olympians glowing in the distance. Focussing hard, I can see other, smaller outposts lining the distant perimeter, widely spaced out. Sentry points, I know. Watching for incursions like ours.
"Yeah, well, now might be one of those times," I say, wondering how we're going to get through unseen. "If you weren't so persuasive, I might have just listened to my grandmother's orders."
"And let West down? You saw him..."
"Yeah, Marcus, and I'm here now," I say. "Frankly, I don't know what you're getting out of this. You don't even know Rhoth, or West, or any of them. Where's this compassion come from?"
"From my duty as a soldier," he says flatly. "You may not completely believe in yourself, but I do. I wouldn't be doing this without you, I assure you. I'll bet you'll be able to get in and out without anyone noticing."
"Sounds like an impossible challenge," I mumble, still looking ahead.
"Bah. Impossible is just a word for the weak minded," retorts Marcus. "Look, let's just keep moving, OK? We can always turn back if we have to. Come on, follow me..."
As he begins moving off once more, a boom sounds off in the distance to our left, and we automatically turn to the direction of the sound. Just beyond the north-western walls to the city, a bloom of orange light flourishes as a great ball of silver energy bursts apart, connecting with a building.
It's been going on for hours now, the bombardment from behind their wall. From where we are, we can just about make out the shape of the large barrier they've hastily erected, made out of mud and earth and wrappings of silver metal. It was their Forgers, I know, who saw to the work. The result is quite amazing, a wall thick and broad and almost as high as the walls of New Haven herself. And from behind them, those great artillery guns fire, shooting through narrow gaps in the palisade as they rain down upon the outer portions of the city.
We don't let it distract us, however, only watching for a moment before moving on. It seems, going by their projectiles, that they have energy weapons that are quite similar to our own pulse rifles, harnessing the power of concentrated subatomic particles to wreak havoc upon the walls and the buildings and streets that lie beyond.
