Chapter 12

Aurelian Severus rode stiffly behind the litter that carried his father through the streets of Parsaena’s northern district. The sun was hot and gave him a headache and caused his stomach to churn. He had just watched thirteen supposed criminals hang for various offenses against the governor. Their heads were now on spikes near the city gate to warn others of what happened when one offended the governor. He did not, however, like to think that to be the reason behind the sickly knot in the pit of his stomach. He had witnessed executions before; his father always made him attend executions whether he himself did or not.

“Better to be accustomed to the sight,” he had told his son on numerous occasions, “Some day you will be the one sending the troublemakers to their rightful place.” Aurelian knew that some day the responsibility would be his, but the thought gave him no pleasure.

Perhaps it would have been different to watch healthy people die, but the men who had perished that day had been nothing more than skin and bones. Ten of the criminals had been arrested as thieves accused of stealing food, the other three as rebels plotting to overthrow the governor.

As the litter passed through the streets, accompanied by Aurelian on horseback and a host of soldiers and servants, citizens bowed respectfully in their direction. He noticed there was something different in the way the people in this part of the city, the Northern District, reacted to their presence. The faces of those who bowed as he passed were grave, almost disapproving. They bowed out of fear, not respect.

Two young men who stood near the street did not bow at all. Instead, they stood staring, feet spread in defiance. Aurelian was a little surprised at the show of disrespect, for the governor would have them seized for treason if he saw. Aurelian did not wish to deal with any more peasants accused of treason for that day, so he didn’t call the soldier’s attention to the men.

The next morning he would be leaving for the feast at Castle Caerlock, and though he was not looking forward to this particular event, he was anxious to be leaving the palace. Shifting his weight in the saddle, he recalled the conversation that had taken place between he and his father the night before.

Standing just inside the door of the governor’s chamber, he had made the mistake of, once again, questioning his father on the matter of his marriage.

“I cannot help but wonder, sir, about the reason behind this so-called union between the Lady Vitalus and myself,” he had begun.

“On matters such as these, Aurelian, it is not your place to wonder; only to obey.” Severus was not even looking at his son. He was busy sorting through parchment scrolls and other documents that lay scattered atop the massive wooden table.

Aurelian took a deep breath in frustration. He could never change his father’s mind, but perhaps if he tread lightly, he could get a few answers.

“Someday, Father, I shall be sovereign governor of this city,” Severus harrumphed at that, but did not look up.

“And if I am to know how to rule as you do, I must know the reasoning behind the decisions the sovereign makes. How else will I learn to make them myself?” Severus made no indication that he even heard Aurelian.

“Or perhaps you plan to live forever, Father?” It had slipped out. Why could he never control his sarcasm?

Severus leaped up from the table, “If my imbecile son were half the leader he should be, the dynasty of the Severus reign would be sure! Perhaps if you even pretended to care about political matters, I might deem it worth my time to share with you what you need to know to be as great as I am! But no! You prefer to spend your time at feasts, wining and womanizing!

Aurelian was furious, and his temper rose to meet his father’s, “Who sends me to those feasts? YOU! And who buys the love of the nobles by paying for those feasts? You, Father! Now you send me to yet another feast to woo a lady I care nothing for, and you speak of wining and womanizing!”

“Out of my presence, boy, for you have gone too far!” the governor roared, jabbing a finger, shaking with rage, at the door.

All too happy to oblige, Aurelian turned and stalked out, hand on his sword, muttering oaths against the gods, his father, feasts, wine, and Livea Vitalus.

***

Deep in the halls of Castle Caerlock, amidst the pandemonium of last-minute preparations, the old chapel sat quietly, almost patiently, as if waiting for the day when it might be remembered.
I

n the dusty shadows of this forgotten sanctuary, a man sat just as quietly, awaiting the same. Though the chair in which he sat rested near the fireplace, Rouen could still feel the cold dampness of the stone walls seeping through. He did not, however, get up to put another log on the fire. In truth, there were no more logs. Not only was there no more fuel for the fire, but no food had been sent to him in over two days.

Hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly and brows knotted in concentration, for the thousandth time Rouen thought about escaping.

Since that day eight long years ago when he had first been banished to this part of the castle, he had feared that this day might come. Only seventeen years-old, they had cast him into this black abyss, where night and day were the same, the world was cold, and no one cared.

Oh, he had tried to escape before. Once, in the first few months of his imprisonment, he had made it as far as the armory before being caught. Rouen winced at the memory, and rubbed his left leg. The punishment for running had been severe and effective. After his leg had finally healed, leaving behind a severe limp, the prospect of escape seemed impossible. The day he realized that he would never escape by himself had also been the day he stopped believing.

Since that day he had been waiting.

You thought He would save you. You thought Deus actually cared about what happened to you.

But what were you waiting for? To be forgiven and set free?

Yes, it had been his only dream since that day so many years before. He scolded himself for his naïveté; for now, it seemed, he had only been waiting for the day they decided to let him die.

Rouen jumped out of the chair and began to pace the familiar path from the fireplace, all the way around the tower wall. He carefully exercised his bad leg, as he had been doing faithfully over the last few months. Much to his satisfaction, it was steadily growing stronger, and even the limp had lessened some. To his frustration, however, the last couple days without food had taken its toll, and his strength was not as it usually was.

The time had come. He must make his move now, before he lost yet more of his strength. He would not simply wait here and die; he had waited long enough.

Crossing the familiar layout of the chapel quickly, he took up his crutch and the only possession he valued: a book. The door leading out of the chapel opened easily, behind which lay the narrow flight of steps up to the door to the North Hall. He started up the stairs, the exhilaration of forgotten freedom filling him with new determination.

***

Daelia moved swiftly and silently through the shadows of the North Hall, clutching to her chest a large bundle wrapped in a blanket. That morning she had woken to the thought of the strange man in the chapel, along with the overwhelming feeling that she needed to talk to him again. Unable to get away from Cook’s watchful eye until that evening, she had finally snuck away, taking with her some food and a few other items.

Now, as she rounded the final corner, her heart jumped into her throat as one of the chamber doors opened, and a servant emerged. Daelia sidestepped into a doorway and flattened herself against it as the servant girl hurried by unawares. As soon as she was out of sight, Daelia nearly ran the short distance to the door at the end of the hall. Taking hold of the latch, she pressed down on it forcefully and pulled with all her strength to open the heavy door.

Her nerves were still on edge from the chance meeting with the servant girl in the hall, so when she found herself face-to-face with a man on the dark stairs beyond, her first reaction was to scream. Before the scream had a chance to escape, however, a strong hand clamped firmly over her mouth, and she was pulled into the dark stairwell.

*Attention*

Even though I SHOULD be working on finishing Chapter 12 :), I am in the process of revising/editing my previous chapters (don't worry, Chapter 12 will be finished sooner rather than later). There are a few issues I need to take care of plot-wise before I can continue. I will probably post the revised versions at some point, but in the meantime, here's what you might be interested to know:

Junia, the little girl who Daelia takes under her wing in the beginning, has now been cut out of the story. I felt that that part of the story was pretty much worthless, as the girl has no further part in the story.

I know that so far, the issues with the governor, taxes, etc. has been a pervading, yet still kind of minor/shallow part of the story. As an aspect of the story that is central to the plot, I am going back and doing a little revising and adding in small glimpses into the back-story, hopefully to peak interest, and add a sense of the controversy/climax which is to come.

The following scene is one that I have added to the beginning of Chapter 3, which falls just after Daelia has arrived in Parsaena and is staying in Finneas's shop. Please read it and let me know what you think...does it peak your interest? Here it is:

-----

Across the city, Deveral Severus, Most Revered Governor of Parsaena, was in conference. The gothic arches of the ancient hall stood sentry as the governor and a dark, hooded figure passed slowly through the heart of the castle, voices hushed so as not to carry down the vast corridor.

“What is your assessment of the situation?” the man in the dark cloak was asking the governor.

“My standing as the sole power in this city grows stronger each day,” Severus murmured to his companion.

“I have no interest in where you stand. I care only about where you are going.”

“All is progressing well.”

“It progresses, and that is all,” the hooded figure answered in measured tones, “Do not be overly confident in the ladder you now climb. If you step too quickly, you will step wrongly, and there is no surviving such a fall.”

“Then I shall tighten my grip, High One.”

The High One nodded his head in approval, “But just remember that to squeeze too quickly might raise the heads of the few among us who still question our power over them. Tighten your grip slowly, just a little at a time, and they will not even realize they cannot breathe…until they are already dead.”

“Do you propose that we kill off an entire city?”

The High One chuckled, a low and evil sound, “Yes, we will kill them; in every way but physically. In all of them, freedom will die a very slow death indeed; and what is man without freedom? No better than dead.”

Severus smiled at the power that was surely to be his.

The hooded man stopped walking and turned to Severus, “But this is not to be taken lightly; our victory is not yet in hand. Let my warning be heard, Severus. You must take great caution! This evening as I consulted the spirits, I was shown your impending ruin should you not heed my advice.

“Three days past something entered this city that will threaten our future. If not rooted out and destroyed, this new force could bring about our utter destruction.”