STAY OF EXECUTION: 1255 (1-4)
Zoe
“Push my lady! Push!” one of the maids told her.
This must have been the fourth time someone had said this sentence, and she was getting sick of it. From what she knew, this had always been a quick affair with Cornelia. Four or five hours and this was done, the baby was out and she had a new sibling was born. So why was she in her thirteenth hour of labor? Damn Cornelia. She made it sound so easy. How did that witch manage to go through this five times? This was easily the most painful experience of Zoe’s life. She could not believe Cornelia went through this unarmed, especially with the twins. At times, her mind also veered to her mother, who had died giving birth to her. Was this going to be her fate too? She certainly felt like it.
But thankfully she didn’t die, and in the first hours of the second day of 1255, she gave birth to a daughter. The girl was somewhat pretty, or at the very least wasn’t a fat baby like some of her half-siblings had been at birth. The baby had green eyes like her father Egina, and her hair were dark brown, which Zoe guessed must have been her husband’s hair color when he was young (if Egina being young was even possible). But while her appearance was clearly inspired by her father, it seemed that her magical potential was the same as her mother. Egina had few redeeming qualities, but his great magical potential was one of them. Zoe had hoped that this would be passed to her child, but it seemed that the girl was just as likely as she was to become a great Magi. Now she had a daughter who was not as good looking as her mother and not as magically gifted as her father. Great. This certainly warranted nine months of hell.
Still, the girl did garner Zoe the attention of the court. Her father finally left his library to spend time with his granddaughter. It was kind of pathetic how joyful he seemed about the occasion. Cornelia came and gave her cold congratulations, to which Zoe happily thanked her with a wide smile. She made sure to remind her mother-in-law that her daughter was technically ahead of Damianos in the succession, just to rub it in. She also took the opportunity to finally name the girl Justitia. This name was not chosen randomly, as this was the name of Benarion’s wife. While Benarion would see this as a ploy to strengthen their relation and tie him down to Zoe, his wife would be too trusting to see anything other than a kind gesture. Soon enough, Zoe would be her best friend at court, and Benarion would find himself with little choice but to continue working with his sister. Zoe knew how competent her brother was, and she wanted to make sure that he was put to good use: Hers.
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Corvus
He recoiled from the punch to his stomach. What he was able to eat from the disgusting crass they gave him to eat was immediately emptied from his body. He would have likely fell to his knees had he not been held up by the shackles.
In front of him was the man who had just punched him. His torturer had changed over the months of imprisonment, though Corvus was never made aware of why these changes took place. This one was his third, having only arrived a week ago. His lack of experience didn’t make the situation any less painful for Corvus.
“Wait, I…”
“Again.” the Skull-Taker.
The Skull-Taker was standing in the back of the cell, watching as Corvus was being tortured. The giant had to bow in order to fit in the room with his horned helmet, but this didn’t seem to bother him. His visits were infrequent, but they always meant that things would be more difficult for Corvus today. To his horror, the Magi had come to the realization that Gorassos enjoyed seeing him be tortured. This wasn’t a captor keeping tabs on his captives, or an attempt to extort information out of him. This was pure, simple, and unabashed entertainment.
The fist of his jailor hit struck him in the abdomen once more. While he found himself once again without air, at least he could find solace in the fact that he had already vomited everything that could be. After a few repeats, Gorassos looked at him with an annoyed expression. With some luck, the Skull-Taker would be bored enough to leave after some punches.
“His reactions are disappointing today.” Gorassos declared.
“Any suggestion, Aautokratir?” the jailor asked.
The Skull-Taker smiled. The sight of his white teeth aligned in joy made Corvus recoil.
“Go heat the pincers.” Gorassos gleefully ordered.
“His nails do look healthy today.
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Plinios
“Do you not realize how unreasonable you are?” he shouted.
“Do not talk to me like this child.” Egina roared back.
“You might be my brother-in-law, BUT I AM IN CHARGE HERE!”
Plinios was furious. Once again, good planning and logic were going out the window because of the damn stubbornness of the old Marshal. He tried for another half hour to convince him that this was the wrong decision, that they were risking everything by making this move, but Egina didn’t budge. He was either too old, too insane or simply too stubborn to listen.
“I hope you realize that you are aiming us at disaster.” Plinios declared.
“GET OUT!” the old man responded.
At this point, Plinios decided that he was wasting his time. Arguing with the old man was pointless. He stormed out of the tent that they had been using to discuss the war, unwilling to stay another minute with Egina. He wanted him out? Fine. He was going to leave anyway. Of course, he cursed this rash decision the minute he stepped outside. The sun was radiating over his head, blinding his red eyes in the process. The heat of the light upon his skin was a keen reminder of the curse that came with being an albino. He quickly pulled up his hood and pushed down his visor to cover his face. It was the best he could do to protect himself from this painfully sunny day.
As he wandered through the camp in search of a cold shadow to rest in. Plinios could try for his tent, but it was at the other side of the camp. He did not feel like he had the will to endure such a trip. Damn Egina for holding him for hours. Eventually, he found a series of crates, piled high enough to paint a refreshing shade on the ground. Seeing no one around, Plinios laid down against the boxes and eased himself unto the ground. He allowed himself to close his eyes. He really needed rest.
“My lord husband.”
Plinios opened one of his red eyes to look up. She stood there, in full armor, gazing down at him with curiosity. His wife was in full armor, as she always was in the camp. He had been surprised how well she had been acclimating to the life among the troops.
“You do have a bed.” Agathe said.
“Yet here I am, enjoying the grass.”
“I see that.”
She paused for a moment, as if she was judging him. She might be a humble soul, but Plinios had been quick to learn that she had high standards for those around her, him first and foremost.
“It is a rare sight to see you waste time instead of working.”
Plinios frowned under his helmet.
“It is hard to be of use when your skills are denied.” he declared.
“Egina is simply too foolish to accept my advices.”
“He should be more cautious.” Agathe smiled.
“Considering how you will one day be his lord.”
“Precisely.” Plinios agreed
Agathe looked at her husband for a moment before sitting right next to him. She then proceeded to rest her head on his shoulder as they both relaxed on the ground. Plinios had been surprised by how much he enjoyed these small gestures of kinship and intimacy. His relationship with his family had never allowed him to get close to anyone. After some hesitation, he leaned his own head on her helmet.
“What is bothering you today?” she asks calmly.
“You know that Despexir Philotheos has decided to move against the Little Wailer?” Plinios asked her.
“I try to attend all the meetings, yes.” she said, which Plinios understood as her way to remind him that she was part of the command staff just like he was.
“H-Hum, well…” he coughed.
“While this is a stupid decision, as the Little Wailer’s rebellion is a good distraction, we should still stick together.”
“And you disagree with the Marshal’s decision to attack Alympia instead of staying with the Despexir.”
“Splitting will only result in our undeniable doom!” Plinios shouted.
“And can we do something about it?”
“Not with Egina commanding our operations.” he grumbled.
“Then you just have to be patient, my lord husband.” Agathe told him.
“Your time will come to fix this.”
Plinios once again looked up at the burning sun.
“If that old man does not ruin it all before…”
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Theophana
Theophana looked at her father, who joyfully held the girl in his arms. It was rare for her father to leave his library for an extended period of time. But the birth of a child in the family seemed to be one of the few things that got him interested in the world outside of his books. She herself proved hesitant to leave the safety of her father’s sanctuary. However, between the option of staying by his side or remaining behind, alone and vulnerable, the decision had been easy.
The room they stood in was small, with little tapestry or features to make it worthy of a great noble family like the Lekares. Really, the only thing that was noticeable was the hand carved wooden crib at the center of it. Her mother had ordered guards to be posted at the entrance, but it did little to reassure Theophana. After all, there was only one door in and out. Her eyes often shifted to the exit as her father enjoyed the new member of House Lekares in his arms. The baby was sleeping, thankfully too tired after a long day of crying.
“Hello little girl.” Gregorios whispered.
“Theophana, come see her.”
Theophana could see him smile as he looked at the sleeping child. After much hesitation, she approached her father to take a look at her niece. It was the first time that she laid her eyes on Eusebia. Her mother had been adamant about keeping the child to herself, but Viviana was also proving too tired to keep a constant watch.
She had the same hair as her father, or her for that matter. Most of Cornelia’s children had the same hair color, so it was easy to see who she was taking from. But more importantly to Theophana, this child had more magic in her blood than any member of House Lekares. She was everything that they had hoped when their families arranged the marriage of Corvus and Viviana. Hopefully, she would one day be trained as a Magi, and when that day eventually arrived, she would be the greatest pride of their family.
“She looks like her father, does she not?” her old man asked her.
Theophana was quick to notice how these words downed her father’s mood. Soon enough his joyful smile disappeared, and after a few minutes Theophana could hear sobbing. She considered putting a hand on his shoulder out of compassion, but she quickly chased this idiotic idea from her mind. What would people think of her when they saw her show kindness like that? And people
were obviously watching.
“Corvus.” her father lamented in silence.
“Your daughter is waiting. So please, come home safely.”
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Arthoris
Honorable Philotheos Hemeriki, blessed Despexir of Hellane.
I write to you on this day in the hope of finding a mutual agreement to the current situation. Your decision to pursuit war against the Little Wailer instead of the Skull-Taker was a surprising one, though one I cannot default you for taking. The Little Wailer is currently vulnerable. Some might have considered him a potential ally in our struggle against Gorassos, but considering that he was only recently one of his closest advisors, I can only agree with your judgement that we cannot allow him to stand by our side as a comrade in our righteous struggle.
However, this decision of yours has also brought a big issue in the division of our troops. I know that you chaffed under my brother’s weak leadership and that you shared our opinion that Egina’s authority was unbearable. This letter stands as a proof of this last fact alone, as my brother-in-law refused to follow you and instead moved our troops against Alympia, the capital of the Skull-Taker’s dominion. With Kothexir Hippolytos and his forces scattered east, it leaves us all separated and weakened, perfect targets for the attacks of our enemies.
I believe that something must be done to fix our precarious situation. Alympia should not have been the target. Sadly, neither I nor any of my brothers have managed to convinced our brother-in-law that he should abandon this siege. Which is why I request your help. If you were to request his assistance, his stubborn arrogance might lead him to come to your rescue. I know this might be a humiliating and unappealing prospect, especially now that you are free to command your troops as you see please. But for the success of our rightful uprising, I plead you to make this sacrifice and be the bigger man.
I hope that we can see each other in person soon,
Lord Arthoris Lekares, son of Gregorios Lekares, Despexir of Eryras
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Demetrios
Once again, his plans had been thwarted by his siblings. First his place on the frontline had been usurped by his albino brother Arthoris. Demetrios had been wounded once, just once, and it was enough for Arthoris to use this as an excuse to remove him from the frontline. Because of this, he had spent the last months recuperating between the suffocating walls of their home. And even now as he was starting to feel better, even now as the wounds turned to scars, he found himself barred from going back to the war, stuck at home with the rest of his family.
But then he heard about her, the perfect bride, the one woman that might have turned his current situation into something positive. And here he was denied his prize too. Agathe, this prize of a woman. Ambitious yet humble, a competent individual with who to rise within the family. He had tried to find her and marry her, but he had been thwarted at every turns by Benarion and Zoe, who had decided that she would be Plinios’s wife instead of his. This did not deter him from his goal, and by the end of the previous years he had been hopeful that he would soon be married. That was until he was informed that Agathe had been shipped to the frontline to marry Plinios. And now she was where he couldn’t go, outside of his reach.
Frustrated but still determined to get married, Demetrios chose to find himself a bride who had as much magical potential as the one that had been taken from him. And once again, someone was trying to get in his way.
“She seems like a terrible choice for you.” his mother protested.
Demetrios was seated in a chair as his mother walked around ranting against his choice of bride. At least he was comfortable.
“I am a Magi mother.” he said, holding his hands together.
“And I will produce stronger Magi through this marriage.”
“And I have checked what kind of woman she is. This Helene is nothing but an impatient gluttonous and self-centered villain. Can you really handle that? Should I really allow you to bring such a cruel soul into our home?”
Demetrios looked at her with annoyance. Truthfully, Helene reminded him of his mother, so he thought that the two of them might get along. But then again, considering their personalities, the two women might not be compatible. Mother already had difficulties sharing her wealth and power with her step-children. Now adding a daughter-in-law just as bad as she was? Disaster and confrontation. This was where this marriage would surely lead to. This was what his mother was trying to make him understand.
Not that he cared.
“I will be marrying Helene.” Demetrios stood up, facing his mother without flinching.
“I will marry a woman of great magical potential and produce great Magi children.”
“And I will not allow this woman in our household.”
“Yes, you will.” he pressed forward, forcing his mother to step back.
“I have been denied too much these last few months. I have dreams, ambitions, goals. Yet everyone seem to want to stop me from achieving them. The fact that Plinios was the most helpful person in my life over the previous year is insane, yet here we are.”
“You do NOT tell me how to run my household!”
“Father’s household.” Demetrios corrected.
Silence soon filled the room. Tensions were high, and this was not what Demetrios wanted. Making an enemy of his own mother would be stupid. But at the same time, he did not want to look weak. He did not want to bow down to someone else’s will again, to see his ambitions thwarted by the decisions of others.
In the end, he sighed, realizing that his mother was too arrogant to speak first.
“Mother I… I need this marriage. I know you disapprove of it, but I am no longer a little turd crawling on the ground. I need this marriage, I need to grow, to get stronger.”
“And this will help you?” she asked.
“To put yourself at the mercy of someone as wicked as this? To marry a brute?”
“It is a small price to pay to help our family get stronger.”
His mother looked at him. For a moment, he wondered if she was waiting for him to plead her to accept. If she was, she was going to wait. Never would he plead. He was stronger than that.
“I will talk to your father about it.” she told him.
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Anabasia
Once again, Anabasia found herself seated at the banquet table, celebrating the marriage of one of her brothers. This time the lucky one was none other than her youngest brother Demetrios, who had managed to convince their mother that he ought to have a wife by now. Unlike the previous marriage, this one was far more ostentatious than the previous one, where Benarion had explicitly ordered that the celebrations be as tamed as possible. Here it was clear that the extravagant tastes of her mother had the upper hand over the frugal lifestyle of Benarion. From what Anabasia understood, Demetrios has been all too willing to let his mother plan everything if it meant that he could get her approval for the match.
But this marriage was also different for Anabasia. Last time, she had been seated far away from the married couple, having to wait until Benarion was available to talk to him. Now she was the Seneschal of their home, the one who had the duties of organizing the celebrations. Because of this, she had a seat of honor with her husband. They were seated right between the bride and her mother. An uncomfortable position to be in, but one that was necessary.
After all, both women found it hard to handle each other. Helene was eating like a pig, much to Mother’s distaste. It also didn’t help that the bride took great pleasure in bullying the servants. Whenever there was a meal too late or a glass too empty, Helene chastised them as publicly as possible. She seemed to enjoy humiliating the servants. Anabasia didn’t care much for it. They were servants after all. They should know their place. But her mother saw them as
her servants, taking personal offense to their treatment. Demetrios had thus asked Anabasia to sit between them to avoid a bloodbath. And so she sat there, silently drinking wine, coldly glaring at the people eating and dancing for their entertainment.
She could barely tolerate this. But she would, and in the end, she would leave this marriage as silently as she went through it.
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Benarion
Benarion had his hands filled with the diplomatic affairs of the Despex. Cornelia had been trying to get in his way at every turn, even when it would have been better for them to work together. Then again, Benarion had never expected her to be reasonable. Her hold on power was slipping. She knew it. He knew it. And now this was a struggle to see if Benarion and his full siblings could wrestle back control of their home from Cornelia.
That didn’t mean that he was blind to the difficulties of others at court. Anabasia probably had it the hardest. He had helped her become Seneschal knowing that she could do an excellent job. While she had met his expectations, she had also found herself buried under work. And just like Benarion, this was due to the need to fix Cornelia’s excesses. Unlike him, she was trying to be diplomatic about it since she was dealing with her mother, which meant that it was a lot harder to push back against it. Or at least, that’s how it looked from the outside.
As he passed through the hallways of their castle, he noticed his half-sister going through documents in her office. As always, she was composed, calm and silent as she worked her way through a mountain of paper and ink. After some hesitation, Benarion stopped his walk and knocked on her doorframe to signal his presence. Even so, he had to wait in silence for a full minute before Anabasia pull her eyes off the document she was writing.
“Yes?” She looked at him with her usual cold expression. No wonder most people were uncomfortable around her.
“What do you want, Benarion?”
“I can see that you are overworked.”
“I can see you have eyes.” Anabasia answered.
Ok, this was not starting well. Benarion decided to approach his sister, allowing him a glance at what she was working on. It seemed to be related to the staff.
“Having eyes does not mean you can use them wherever you want.” Anabasia warned him, though she did little to hide the documents.
“This is a wasteful increase of expenses.” he commented.
“We do not need all these servants.”
“Agreed. But my mother wants them. And now I need to cut people somewhere.”
“Corners.” he corrected.
“’To cut corners’ is the right expression.”
“As you said, I am busy.”
He looked at her for a moment, once again wondering what he was doing here. Anabasia was cold, callous and uncaring. And most importantly, she was loyal to Cornelia. But then again, they shared the same burden.
“Let me handle this.” he picked a large pile of paper from her desk, balancing it in his arms with some difficulty.
“These are my duties.”
“And here I am sharing them with you.”
She scuffed at his response.
“I can do a better job than you at it.”
“Then I will ask Justitia for help.” he answered without ever showing his emotions.
“You can say no if you want, but I think I am owed this right considering I helped you get appointed.”
“…do as you please.” was her only answer before she waved him to get out.
Not wanting to be in her way any longer, Benarion excused himself and made for his room. It was already late, with the sun slowly disappearing from the sky. If he wanted some light to work, he needed to prepare the candles quickly. Thankfully, he found his room already lighted by his wife. Justitia was in the bed, happily reading a piece a parchment. She offered him a warm smile as he entered the room. He responded by placing a kiss on her forehead as soon as he had put the documents on their bed. Never would he have guessed how the warmth that came with respect and compassion, and now never would he want to abandon it.
“Big day.” she commented, taking one of the documents he had brought and looking at it
. “Huh, I didn’t know you handled the staff.”
“I do not.” Benarion answered as he prepared himself for bed.
“These are Anabasia’s documents.”
Justitia looked at him with a frown.
“Again? Dear, please don’t overwork yourself. You already have enough to deal with as Chancellor.”
“Actually, I was hoping you might be willing to help me out with this. Please?”
He knew she could not resist his pleas, and she knew it too. She just smiled and grabbed more documents, allowing herself a small laugh of resignation.
“Why do you keep helping her? I though your side of the family hated hers.”
Benarion paused. As he was pondering what to answer, a memory of his bast came to him. For some reason this moment always stuck in his mind when he thought of Anabasia. This was probably because it had been the first time that her younger sister had spoken to him (then again, she was not exactly a great conversationalist at the age of 4). She had just looked at him, as shellshocked as she was today, and said:
“So we both waste of times? Are we the same then?”
It gave him a sad smile.
“What can I say dear? We have a lot in common.”
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Damianos
At first, Damianos had been incredibly supportive of Egina’s plan to abandon the siege of Alympia. They had received a request for help from none other than their ally Despexir Philotheos, who seemed to be struggling with his own siege. Because of this, a decision had been made to come to his help, Egina now more convinced than ever that he was the only man who could lead this campaign.
The fact that the rest of the officers had taken so long to realize this was baffling to Damianos. Egina was a survivor of the old Empire, a symbol of Aversarian greatness! Who else but him to lead them to victory against the savage Skull-Taker? Besides, Damianos had once again gotten bored with the siege. He was all too happy to leave.
But the second they arrived things went back to the way they were before. Despexir Philotheos, who had been so begging in his letters, now expected Egina to follow his lead. While it was true that it was his siege, Egina should be the one in charge! And now Plinios was also trying to get his authority back by claiming that Egina only made poor decisions.
Damianos tried to get involved, but he was rebuffed by everyone at every turn. It seemed that none of them cared that he might one day be the heir to his father (if his mother was to be believed). Their ally ignored him, Plinios seemed angry at his attempts to get involved and Egina didn’t really listen to any idea he had. This was frustrating, even if at times Damianos wondered if they weren’t right to ignore him. After all, he was no Magi. Yet he continued to try to no avail.
And then all these disputes were rendered moot by incoming news: the Skull-Taker was on his way.
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PS: Sorry again for the long wait. I’m struggling with time management with my doctorate and learning two languages. I’m trying to get a better posting schedule by writing one POV a day, but that is still challenging.
