by T. C. Edge
"So, Max, how's the wine?" asks Dom, peering at him with a lazy smile on his face.
Max takes a small sip, then nods. "Very nice, my Emperor," he says.
"Very nice? Is that all?"
"I...don't drink wine often," Max says. "I don't really have a good palate for it."
"That doesn't surprise me, not with a man as dutiful as you. But it will do you some good, Max, to relax and unwind sometimes. Your seriousness is obviously a fine attribute within the Imperial Guard, but what about outside of it? I feel that I am in remiss. I don't really know a great deal about your personal life, Max."
"I don't really have one, Emperor Domitian. At least, not anymore."
I see Dom's eyes cruise into a frown, as he looks at Max, who turns his eyes away. Max told me, of course, a little of his past before, yet suggested that Dom didn't know. I see now, that it's true. He doesn't know where Max truly comes from. He doesn't know of his troubled history.
"You had a family before?" Dom asks, probing gently.
Max's eyes flatten as they stare down at the floor. He nods silently.
"You don't have to tell me what happened, Max," Dom goes on, always in tune with people's emotions. "Not if you don't wish to."
"No, it's OK, my Emperor," Max says, as though thinking staying silent would contravene his duty. "I will answer any questions you wish to ask." He turns his eyes up. "I had a family, long ago. But that was another time, and another place. My service, now, is to you. To Neorome."
"And we thank you for it. I thank you for it. But that doesn't mean, Max, that you should give up on having a family again. I know it is difficult, but it is not forbidden for the Imperial Guard to marry and have children..."
"He has a child already," I find myself saying. I look at Max, and see his eyes strain a little. "He has a daughter."
"A daughter?" says Dom, his voice pitching higher with surprise. "Is that so, Max?"
Max doesn't look overly pleased at my reveal. His eyes form into a mild glare before turning away to the side once more. "I...did," he says. "I don't know if I do anymore."
"Oh, I'm...sorry," Dom says. "Have you not seen her in some time, or..." He leaves the question open for max to continue.
Max shakes his head. "Years," he whispers. "Many years." He takes a large sip of his wine, hiding behind the rim of his goblet. "I don't expect I ever will again."
"Well that's defeatist talk, Max," Dom says. "I won't have that here. Where might she be? Somewhere in the outlying colonies?"
Max shakes his head, and takes another sip. "I'm from the Walled Island," he says, almost afraid to utter the words. "Off the northern coast of Old Europe."
"Britain?" asks Dom, his eyes widening. He lets the information sink in for a moment. "The Walled Island is largely a mystery to us. So few ever leave that place. Why have you never spoken of this before?"
"I have," Max says, his voice softer than normal. "Just...never to you, my Emperor. It never seemed relevant."
"Relevant? Max, we're talking about a powerful, enigmatic nation here. One that is largely opposed to our very nature, our very existence." He turns to look at me, offering explanation of what I already know. "The Walled Island is ruled by the Unenhanced, Kira," he says. "They use technology to subjugate our kind, often in brutal ways, or so we hear. But...information is so hard to come by. So few people ever pass the walls, or cross the sea to get away." He looks to Max. "And now I hear that my protector in chief is one of them? A man whom I respect above almost all others. Max, tell me of this place. But more than that, tell me of your daughter. What happened, Max?"
His voice is so sincere in his sympathy, in his desire to hear the truth and help where he can. I reach across and take his hand, squeezing. It's the very reason, above all, why I fell in love with him.
"There isn't a great deal I can tell you, Emperor Domitian," Max says, "that you do not already know. I don't see how I can add to the information that is already known, limited though it is..."
"But your daughter, Max. I want to hear of her, above all. And...your woman, your wife? Did you leave them to find help? Were you forced to flee for another reason?"
"I did as you say," Max says, taking another sip of wine to ease the discomfort. "I left to seek aid, but...found myself on another path. I entered the Imperial Games all those years ago to try to gain position, a voice. But, somewhere along the way, I realised there was no one who could offer the help I needed. Not even you, Emperor Domitian."
Dom nods quietly, seeming to understand.
"We cannot risk a war with them," Max goes on. "And getting back..." He shakes his head despondently. "It isn't possible, sir."
Dom stands from his chair, and moves across to Max, drawing up his eyes as he rests a hand on his shoulder. "We are Neoroman, Max," he says, fixing his jaw. "Anything is possible."
The two men look at one another, a deep silence falling. It is only broken when the flap into the tent flutters, and a soldier steps inside, offering a quick salute.
Dom looks up, stepping back from Max's chair. "Yes?" he says.
"I have news, Emperor Domitian," the man says. "I...I think you should see it for yourself."
We share looks within that tent, frowning as we stand and follow the soldier out. Moving into the dying light of day, the soldier points toward the city in the distance, still hidden amid the smog.
But, something is different. Something troubling.
The smog isn't just covering the city anymore.
It's spreading right this way.
184
AMBER
I stroll along a small rise on the western side of the base, looking out over the hundreds of tents. They're all equally spaced out, perfectly presented, with the command tents and royal marquee in the centre, and the remainder positioned all around them.
It doesn't surprise me that the camp is so efficiently put together, so symmetrically designed. The Neoromans have done this once or twice before. I suppose they've discovered that this is the best format.
"It's impressive, isn't it," says Elian, walking beside me. "How regular and uniform it all is. It's quite visually appealing from here."
I nod, in agreement with him, though find words hard to come by right now. We're both pretty drained after our day's training, which went well for the most part, though not without its hiccups. The simple fact is, it's very hard to replicate the sort of conditions I faced in the battle outside the fort. Without the threat of death, the thrill of battle, and the resulting adrenaline it all brings, it's not easy to know how Elian might perform 'on the night'.
We reach a little summit on that rise, and take a seat on the rock floor. Having completed our training, we returned quickly to the camp and ran into Secretary Burns. Elian, being the new and dutiful Elian, was keen to make sure that the Secretary was OK. He assured us he was, and allowed us a bit of extra time alone, which we selected to use wandering through the camp, and up here onto this hillside outside the camp.
Sitting there, we watch the sun setting off to the west, bathing the now-visible plains in a quite fabulous orange and pink glow. Elian unpacks a small bag, retrieving some rations from inside. They're fairly simple, really. Bread, cheese, and some of the high energy bars that helps to replenish our energy stores when we're running low. It's not the most romantic dinner, but the setting is certainly nice.
"I should have grabbed a bottle of wine," Elian says, smiling in a sort of relaxed, weary way, as we sit there looking west, with the camp now behind us, and the city off towards the distant north. "I'm sure Secretary Burns has a few stashed away."
"If not, the Emperor certainly would. He has a fondness for wine, as far as I've heard."
"I imagine theirs is probably nicer than what we make here," Elian says. "Funny that they'd bring stocks of wine across the ocean, though. Doesn't seem like an essential supply."
"We brought ale south when the convoy went to New Haven," I counter. "Remember that night when the soldiers got into the stoc
ks half way there?"
"Of course. How could I forget. It was the night Jude got attacked."
I nod, preferring not to dwell on that memory. Elian and I had been getting along so well until that point, when Jude came crashing back into my life. I wonder what might have happened if none of that had happened. How close Elian I and might have become.
"We could ask the Emperor, though, if you want?" Elian says, interrupting the short silence.
I look at him with a frown, my mind wandering off. "What?"
"About trying some Neoroman wine. He seems pretty easygoing. We could have some with him, share some stories. I'll bet he'll be happy for the company."
"You think an Emperor wants to hang out with us?" I say.
"Sure, why not? What, you think we're not interesting enough for him? Come on, Amber, we're a Chosen and Herald, and have lived on the hill of Olympus with the Prime. I think we pass the test."
I nod and look back towards the sunset. "Former Chosen and Herald," I say. "Those titles don't mean anything anyway. They're completely arbitrary. They can be given, and taken away, just like that," I say, snapping my fingers.
"In a way, maybe," he agrees. "But they do represent the most powerful among us. That's something to be proud of."
"I'm not proud that I was a Herald of War for five minutes, Elian," I say. "I was only made it to help commit genocide. Hardly something to tell the grandkids."
"Yeah, well it was always different for you. I grew up dreaming of becoming a Chosen, of following in my father's footsteps. It meant a lot to me, Amber. I'm still proud I achieved it, no matter what you say."
He huffs a little as he looks away, shaking his head. I reach out and take his hand. "I wasn't trying to belittle the achievement, Elian," I say. "I'm sorry."
"I...I know you weren't, Amber," he says, looking back to me. "I guess our experiences have just been very different. I've lived in Olympus all my life. It's...weird camping outside its walls, besieging the place I love."
"I know it must be hard," I nod. "I know it's not really my home, but I still feel conflicted by all this. My...sister's in there," I whisper. "She's why I'm really here."
He turns his eyes towards the city again, invisible in the fog, miles off to the north. With the light fading, it's all so hard to see, just a blur of muted colour on the distant horizon.
"We could try to get in," he suggests. "Get close to the walls. Fly over. We might be able to get Lilly out somehow..."
I look at him, shaking my head lightly. My lips work into a grateful smile. "You're so sweet," I whisper. "But...it wouldn't work, Elian. How would we even get out?"
He frowns, thinking. "Through the gate," he says. "It's the only way. We could threaten the soldiers there, make them open it. Or...I don't know, work out how to do it ourselves."
I look at him, knowing it's not possible, but smiling all the same. "It's...a nice thought," I say. "I wish it were that easy."
He goes silent for a moment, knowing his plan would never work, knowing I'd never put Lilly at such risk. I reach over and take his hand again, and shuffle a little closer.
"Thank you for thinking of her, Elian," I say. "It's very sweet of you."
"I'd do it, you know. I'd do it for you."
"I know you would," I whisper.
His eyes glaze over, a clear sheen glimmering upon the gold. They are eyes I know. Eyes of lust. Eyes of love. I look at him, suddenly nervous, conflicted as I sense him leaning in.
Do I kiss him, give him hope when I may yet turn away? Do I draw back and reject him, risk damaging what we've begun to rebuild?
I find myself caught in two minds, with nowhere to go. But by some morbid, terrible stroke of luck, a timely distraction catches my attention right at the last minute.
I lean back as his lips come, and set my eyes right for the city. His follow, turning the same way.
Through the growing gloom, we both see it.
The fog is spreading our way.
185
KIRA
I stare ahead at the coming fume, as General Decimus marches out from his command tent, Ares by his side, his two gigantic Brute guards marching right behind them. The fog has pushed on quickly already, spreading directly south from the city. From what I can tell, it isn't spreading out on all sides, not working east or west to the camps there, but directly our way only.
"How long until it gets here?" Decimus asks, sending those narrow silver eyes of his to the north.
The question is open, to anyone who'll answer. I offer a response based on how quickly it seems to be moving.
"Ten minutes or so, I'd guess, General Decimus," I say. "The way it's moving, it's unlikely to be more than that."
"I agree," Max says. "It's coming fast, General. It's already progressed some distance from the city."
Decimus looks swiftly to the skies, the daylight now fading fast. "They're using the cover of night and fog to stage an attack," he says. "We must assume there's an army within that fume." He looks to Ares. "Form up with the Imperial Guard. Muster the legion. We stand our ground and protect our front lines." His eyes snatch to Hendricks, who comes rushing in from the side. "Commander, have word sent quickly to the eastern and western camps to make haste here immediately. They know the protocol."
Hendricks skids to a halt, takes on the command with a nod, and rushes immediately to the command tent. There are short distance comms units set up there, allowing quick relay of information between the various camps.
"Where is Perses, and the Fire-Bloods?" asks Decimus, looking to me as though I might have the answer. "They may be required to fight."
"I...I don't know, General," I say. I hear footsteps behind me, and turn to find Burns stepping to join us, ever calm even in such testing conditions. Adryan moves by his side, similarly unhurried in his disposition.
"Elian and Amber won't be far," Burns informs the General. "They'll return as soon as they notice the commotion. Adryan says he saw them heading westward. I'm sure they'll be back any moment now."
General Decimus looks briefly to Adryan, before turning his eyes back on Burns. I assume, travelling together from the south, they have had some time to get to know one another a bit. Adryan's position as chief advisor to the President would make him a man of prominence - and interest - in the General's eyes.
"And Perses?" Decimus goes on, his eyes back on Burns. "Have you seen him?"
"I'm not certain, General Decimus. He likes to stroll and wander alone. He'll be back when it counts. But don't rely on him to fight. He remains ambivalent on that issue."
Decimus grunts to himself, displeased. "Ares, lead the front," he says. "Maximus, you are to stay with the Emperor at all times, do you understand?"
Maximus nods, as though he wouldn't have it any other way. "Of course, General."
"And you, Lady Kira?" The General's eyes sweep to me. "I would suggest you stay with the Emperor and Commander Maximus. You are too important to be risked."
Again, something stirs in me, a muted displeasure at being told what to do. As I prepare to speak, however, Hendricks comes rushing back toward us, his eyes knitted into a tight frown.
"Yes, Commander?" says Decimus. "Speak."
"There's a large contingent of Fringers coming from the south," he says. "They're approaching the southern lines, General."
"Fringers? What are they coming here for?" Decimus barks.
"We don't yet know, sir," says Hendricks. "Most of them seem to be armed. They could be militia reinforcements."
"Alberta has said nothing of this," Decimus says, appearing confused. He looks to Burns, as though he might have an answer. "Did she speak about this to you, Leyton?"
"No, General," Burns answers. "But we have had reports of Fringers trying to get to Olympus. There have been promises of joining the Children of the Prime. They may be coming for that reason."
"How many are there?" asks Decimus quickly.
"I'm not sure, General," says Hendricks. "The news just came to me.
Hundreds it sounds like. Perhaps a thousand or more."
"Then they wouldn't try to break through the lines here at our camp. If they were trying to get to Olympus, they'd do so at a weaker point around the blockade." He frowns deeply, looking troubled. "We must maintain a force at the rearguard," he says, glancing to Ares. "We must know if these Fringers represent a threat."
"I'll go and find out what is happening, General," Hendricks says. "The other camps are being informed of what is going on as we speak."
"Good."
"I'll go too," I find myself saying. "I'll just need to change into something more appropriate first."
General Decimus looks at me, my body currently wrapped in comfortable Neoroman robes, and nods.
"So be it," he says. "Report back when you know what is happening."
I nod and turn, glancing at Hendricks as he presses off toward the south of the camp, and head right for the royal tent to get into some more rugged combat gear. I step quickly inside, and move into the bedroom. Dom quickly follows me in.
"You should be out there," I say. "You need to hear what's going on."
"I will," Dom says. "I just wanted to show you something first."
He steps toward a trunk, set up to one side. I hadn't noticed it before. He must have had it brought here while I was out with Ares earlier. "What's that?" I ask.
He opens it up, and draws out a familiar set of armoured garments. "You haven't worn them since you fought outside of New Haven," he says. "I think it's time you did again, Kira."
"My Red Warrior armour," I say, staring at it. "But I...I left it back in New Haven."
"I know you did. I brought it with me for you to wear."
I shake my head. "It's too conspicuous, Dom," I say. "Thank you, really, for bringing it, but I left it behind for a reason. It's too bright. I can't sneak around in it, or blend in to the shadows as I like..."
"I know," he says. "That's precisely why I had my best armourer upgrade it on the way. It's more durable now, offers better protection from firearms and blades. But best of all," he says, reaching for a small button on the wrist of the armguard, "is this."
