Contrary to the previous commotion at the city hall, the governor's palace was frighteningly quiet. None of the guards or servants dared to make a sound and disturb the young governor who had locked himself inside one of the rooms. Restlessly going back and forth then stopping for few seconds to ruffle his hair back with nervous fingers, his previous self - assurance and balance tumbling down, safe in his temporary loneliness and fading to fear and unpleasant expectations.
As the elected group left, a letter was sent in emergency.
Silence filled the city hall and the road back to the palace, enveloping the palace itself in the end. This unusual silence did not appeal to the blond, and the aura of peril that accompanied the situation wasn't appreciated. Half of the senators and perhaps the entire people thought the governor's illness was a façade to mask his murder. They believed the governor was dead, and the son was the killer, faking a will and thus a way to take things into his hands. Though gladly welcoming the counselors' suggestion to visit the governor, confident in his luck, the rapid turn of events and the quick approach of possible negative consequences left his heart with sudden uneasiness and disturbed his self - confidence.
These were not mere intrinsic feelings, they had a dreadful reason to ensue.
Time was his foe.
Nervously waiting, the various scenarios Germanous was imagining traumatized his mind, then finally the door of the room he cooped himself in opened and the man he had called for came in.
That man did not bother to hide his irritation for being dragged into another affair he did not care for, sighing in unconcealed boredom. He stood unceremoniously wishing to end the matter quickly. However, when he looked more carefully at the man who had called for him, he realized something serious was about to happen.
Diarmuid, learning hints of the current matter on his way to the palace, agreed to the task only at Sextus' insistence, who lured him with the claim that this would be his chance to elevate his statues and approach his freedom. Though reluctant to the idea of serving the blond in any sense of the word, he still agreed thinking it would be a simple matter but the restless state of the governor indicated the opposite. The fragrance of majesty did not adore his stance, and his haughty eyes roamed the place showing anxiety shamelessly . Nothing of the blonde's arrogance or self - confidence were present at that moment. He stood there like a once beautiful statue on the edge of collapsing, cracking with every passing second.
"There is no king or governor that would give a defeated enemy soldier his weapons, his pride, back… but have I not returned your precious spears back to you, Celtic?"
The blond calmly asked, struggling to maintain the strong façade he faced the counselors and the people with, and which was melting at the current peril that threatened him, not deceiving the Celtic's eyes for a second.
"Only because I earned this."
The latter answered calmly, though he was infuriated by the suggested charity of the blonde, as if the two spears did not belong to him in the first place and were looted by Germanous' people. The coldness he replied with deepened the cleft the governor was hoping to pass across.
"Then you did not accept them as a reward from me?"
"It was a promise you chose to make. One should be ready to take responsibility for his words. Besides, you can't reward one with what he already owes."
A deep furrow accompanied the answer, rendering Germanous trembling nervously. He was trying to approach the man kindly, without the need to flaunt his authority but the lancer's answer simply dictated that he had no authority over him. The message reached the blond who closed his eyes and sighed in frustration.
"You do not acknowledge me to have the merit to reward you?"
"Naturally."
Diarmuid fearlessly shrugged, answering honestly. If Sextus was attending, he would have smashed the Celtic's head then his own, that is if he could do the first. But contrary to the reaction Diarmuid was expecting from the no less haughty blond, after being addressed with such boldness and lack of respect, the latter sealed the distance standing between them. Shorter than the gladiator while standing, he had to loop up at him to meet his golden eyes, but despite this disadvantage, Germanous, contemplating whether to hold the Celtic's hand then deciding against it for the man's comfort, loftily stood yet humbly requested.
"Then, acknowledge me as an equal and repay the favor."
The Celtic was taken aback, in a second, the governor had revealed to him a new face he had not seen before. A vulnerable face, perhaps his true unmasked face, freed from lurking ill – intended judging gazes of his counselors and servants. And he was fascinated by the sight of that face, something he had never witnessed before in a king's or a ruler; a dignity that sublimed higher by humility, a pride that shone brighter by honesty, and a strength rooted deeper by acknowledging weakness.
There stood the image of a king the Celtic lancer would have gladly agreed to serve.
"What do you want?"
Diarmuid asked, his heart softening at that sight and the younger blond sincerely smiled at him in an honest appreciation of the acknowledgement the slave had bestowed on him, the governor.
"There is a man heading to the hot spring of the city; kill him!"
The blond spoke, a trepidation, closer to panic, invading the red irises. Disappointed by the request that did not differ from Sabina's, he refused to taint his blades once more.
"I am not a hired assassin."
He coldly replied, ready to take the governor's wrath, but once again, the blond proved to be different from the picture he imposed.
"I would never drench your honorable blades with a vile demand. I am asking you to yield them to enact justice. That man had killed one of my followers, an old man, who was simply adhering to my orders. In this time of turmoil and betrayals, I cannot trust my soldiers… or anyone… but you!"
Diarmuid arched his eyebrows. The request was simple and sounded reasonable with all the commotion brewing outside but something still sounded suspicious to him. How could the governor trust him this blindly? Either he had a good eye or was an idiot like everyone was saying but he knew the latter was not knew. Maybe the governor was the first one in this estranged land to see him for what he truly was, a knight, and treat him accordingly. The look in his eyes, his reasoning, the way in which he asked the Celtic to accept this mission were all different from Sabina and it eased the lancer's heart, though not completely.
"Very well."
Germanous eyes glowed with gratitude, his posture relaxing a little as he uttered a shy thank.
***
As he was told, Diarmuid encountered no one on the short cut to the hot springs until he arrived at the assigned place, where the heat of the air engulfed his senses. Fog, rising from the evaporated water, thickly hovered in the air but the Celtic's foe was easily spotted and seen, the man's appearance matching the description of the blond.
"You…"
The lancer stopped the man, a soldier, when he realized that the heat and the foam did not come only from the hot water, a decaying cottage, from where the soldier emerged was set on fire. Diarmuid did not know why, but the smell of burning flesh assured him the corpse inside was the reason.
"I have been sent to kill you."
Diarmuid frankly stated, not batting an eye. The soldier's eyes widened in horror, like a prey falling naively to a trap.
"Is he making a fool out of me?!"
The soldier asked, speaking mostly to himself. Diarmuid did not understand what was he talking and did not bother to. He tried to maintain his wish of not interfering with any dangerous affairs although he was being repeatedly and forcefully dragged into them. At the sight of the gladiator, with tuned muscles and a hulky appearance, the soldier knew he did not have a chance so he turned on his heels and started running. The lancer could end the matter with a single throw of his spear, but he would not steep this low so he dashed after the man blocking his path and forcing him to face him in a fair duel. No matter what direction the soldier tried to run at, the gladiator was faster so he had no way out but unleashing his sword with a desperate cry.
The fight did not last long, as the soldier fell dead in few seconds.
At the sound of few residents catching up to the fire and trying to put it down, Diarmuid got his clue to leave but he stopped as he realized that the dead soldier was not the only enemy lurking. Like a dashing beam, he spotted the black shadow from his previous mission, Sabina's demand, jumping out of the cottage, and once again he failed to see his face but the shadow had sensed his presence as well and looked surprised. Not wishing to be seen or caught, he used the same old trick and disappeared into the trees.
"If you are so interested in this battle, why not join in it?"
No answer came.
"If you won't stop hiding like cowards, I will gladly force you!"
The Celtic added, emphasizing his words by scathing a branch to his left by his spear but it did not merely rebound, it was warded off. The Celtic caught the deflected spear easily as lithe leaps lightly left its impact on the tree branches until the harmonized bouncing was turned into unbalanced wide jump by the long shaft that penetrated the maze of branches. This time, the spear was not returned as it pierced a trunk.
Two shorter blades whistled through the air, coming out of nowhere but the yellow spear took care of them. Were the Celtic inattentive, he would have been dead by that attack that came from a totally different direction. Diarmuid turned carefully around, his eyes examining every curve and outlet; there was only one man, of that he was sure, and though a poor aimer, that foe was capable of moving at such speed and agility; he was fighting an enemy that resembled the fog he was surrounded by.
The fight turned into a chase, but the sound of an approaching procession prompted the shadowy enemy to cut the chase short as he disappeared. Diarmuid buffed in irritation knowing he had to disappear as well and return to the town.
The arriving procession was welcomed by the sight of fire. One of the officials exclaimed in horror.
"Is the governor dead?!"
"The governor would not reside in this poor cottage!"
Another replied chiding him but the group of visitors was surely disturbed by the possibilities until the resident assured them only an old man resided in this cottage. Then a messenger arrived at the scene.
"Esteemed counselors, lord Germanous request your presence at the palace to meet the governor."
"What?!"
The counselors asked in unison, feeling like a herd of sheep shepherded by an idiot called Germanous, they started demanding clarifications one after another.
"Has Germanous lost his mind or is he playing with us?!"
"Is not Marcus healing here?"
"What is the meaning of this play?!"
"The governor Marcus was certainly residing here but after the last incident with the messenger, Lord Germanous moved him back to the palace in fear of an assassination attempt. He tried to tell you, but you left so fast."
The excuse was so insolent if it was not true. They remembered shutting Germanous when he was about to tell them something and they felt like fools for not listening but they still pinned the fault of the blonde's impudence, they were sure he was having fun with them.
"What about that man inside? "
One of the younger counselors asked, suspicious that a much darker play concealed by this foolery was taking place.
"He is but a mere lumberjack who lived here for the last year or so."
One of the resident replied, crying for the old man who went away in this horrible accident.
"Let's hurry and see if that insolent brat's words are true!"
The head of the group ordered as the left with the messenger and their guards. Some even hoped that Marcus would die just now so that they can sneer at that idiot blonde to their hearts content.