The silent august procession that left the palace early in the morning, returned at the midday keeping of its original dignity the silence alone. Upon entering the main hall, the young governor was finally able to release the laugh he had been restraining since the morning.
Throwing himself on a chair, Germanous ruffled the lucks that fell on his eyes because of his violent shaking with laughter, still fighting the remnants of his laugh as he faced the crossed - arms upset counselor.
"This is not funny, even if you consider it as such, it is improper to show it."
"You are too stiff, Laurentius!"
"These aren't matters you can laugh at or take lightly."
The counselor remarked more firmly this time, as intermittent chuckles continued to shake the governor's shoulders, finally bursting into another loud laugh.
"Honestly, Laurentius… how can you ask me not to laugh at the hilarious sight of the supposed sacrifice fluttering and running away? Apparently no one loves to die, even for the sake of gods!"
The governor tossed in his seat, holding his flanks overwhelmed by laughter. Laurentius, realizing this fit of joy is nowhere close to ending, sharply interrupted the loud giggling.
"Unfortunately, the others won't see what transpired this morning the way you do, a
joke! They will take is as a sign from gods against you, successfully retrieving the sacrifice won't ease their hearts."
" I can imagine the fierce fight that poor goat put as they brought it back to the altar!"
The blond replied eyes still visioning the hilarious incident from his point of view, and the humiliating one from Laurentius'.
"You succeeded in repelling the threat implied by the emperor's message and rooted your authority. I can't understand how you can throw this away, erase it by acting ridiculously in front of the priest and the crowds that assembled to watch you, supposedly gracefully, making a sacrifice for gods to protect this land!"
Rather than angry, the counselor was puzzled, somewhat frustrated at the unexplained contradicting acts of the blond.
"It is not my fault if the gods didn't desire my sacrifice. They probably did not need it, they are still satiated with the sacrifices people make every day, on every occasion or incident that happen to them."
Germanous replied nonchalantly masking his mockery with a serious tone. Ridiculing gods and men alike, Laurentius merely closed his eyes, and calmly explained:
"I will say this one last times, you should think of a way to make people forget the farce that took place in the temple. Even if you don't believe in gods, people still do. You're ought to understand at least these essential things about your people."
Laurentius words, intended as a chide to the playful young male, did leave their effect on the boy who straightened in his seat, and ceased his laughter. This is where the problem laid, he could never comprehend the way his people thought of things, and he considered the attempts to do so time wasting. Their beliefs and thinking made no sense to him, just like the man in front of him; he was certain Laurentius did not like him or favor any of his decisions, were a conspiracy to take place, he would probably be involved in it but here he is, honestly and truthfully advising him on a matter that threatens to degrade his authority, the one he does not approve on.
This time, it was the governor's turn to get frustrated. Leaving his chair all of a sudden, he roamed the room for few seconds before he turned at his counselor declaring:
"I will go to see the stars tonight."
Laurentius stared at the determent young man then shook his head in a quiet desperation.
"Going outside the palace to the open won't be safe after today's incident."
He calmly clarified, and noticed his comment was not to the governor's liking as the latter ordered:
"Tell Sextus to send his Celtic gladiator, the two spears wielder, tonight."
The counselor did not reply, looking at the young man for an explanation.
"He killed the guard, he replaces him. That is his redemption for killing Chiba!"
***
Shimmering like pearls sprinkled over a peacock's wings, streaming in every direction like the tears of those who entrusted the extended ala to reach the place their crippled legs couldn't, their luminous swirled and flickered as they lingered in expectation for the unnoted sudden burst of golden light that would cover and melt their tiny twinkle
along with the wishes they held.
Gazing at these stars, the frail blond went up a high hill distancing himself from the guards who accompanied him and leaving the warmness of the tent they pitched, to stand unprotected and cold beneath the small stars that struggled to illuminate the indigo sky.
Except for the recurrent rustling of trees, silence engulfed the pondering man and the single guardian he allowed to come along.
"I love and despise them at the same time."
The governor remarked suddenly, head still facing the serene firmament.
"While beautiful, their beauty cannot be reached."
"What is the use of such beauty, then?"
The Celtic, mind taken by the extended plain, stated more than asked after another few moments of silence. He looked at the painful resemblance that brought sorrow; once riding across similar wilds, wider and richer, now squatting satisfied with the mere tranquility of the night. Despite his constant longing and yearning, life would just move on and sweep him along its pace. These feelings of regret and missing the beautiful past he kept reminiscing about in his miserable present only brought more pain and desperation.
The thought of his inability to change events or bend time, the regret that won't fruit another different conclusion would only drive him gradually into despair.
"A purpose."
The governor replied, and the Celtic closed his eyes to the answer. While recollection
became painful, it remained a must if he wished to keep the love he pledged and the honor he held and even as life proceeded regardless of a mind rendered in the past, by the sheer instinct of survival and self-preservation, these recollections and feelings became buried in the depth of his soul, protecting his mind from madness.
"We try to reach until we do, when pain turns into joy and regret into nothingness."
The purpose he was living for now was to save his friend and reunite with his lover.
To reach this purpose, only recollection can fuel his actions.
"People stare at these stars and lament their misfortune. I stare at them, and my heart is filled with ecstasy and desire; to compete with them, reach them, grasp them, then…"
Diarmuid raised his head at the lecherous tone suddenly overwhelming the blonde's speech. Though giving him his back, the lancer could easily imagine what storming craving lied in these red eyes that had never ceased to overflow with conflicting attitudes in each short encounter the two men had had up until now. However, when this pair turned at him, there was nothing of that but the pain that accompanied unfulfilled desires.
"It is because of this that the people of this province call me a delusional man, an idiot who cannot comprehend his surroundings… Well, I don't acknowledge these surroundings to begin with!"
The Celtic's shoulders were pushed back but not by the brief chilly breeze. He was
overwhelmed by the furious passion that shone brighter than the floating orbs in the
skies, a passion he himself had had once and days stole replacing it with this painful
struggle.
"So, I seek to change these surroundings but people are afraid of the act of changing. If they were to improve their static conditions, then they will have nothing to blame their mistakes and misfortune on…"
Diarmuid drifted his eyes and maintained his silence, a response was not something the governor was waiting for. Strangely, his words and the sadness masked by disdain gently warmed the warrior's heart and sorrowfully strummed his memories playing back his days at Claudius' house, and the frightened contented slaves he controlled. Disgusted, the Celtic lancer began to think how he himself is starting to resemble them. He no longer seeks to extract his freedom by fighting, but rather by waiting and working trickily for it.
Once he had turned his life upside down, challenging rules and breaking them and he blamed love for it. But now, enchained by new laws, who can he blame?
Perhaps that young governor was the right.
"Yet they still accuse me of irresponsibility…"
The sharpened tone awakened the lancer from his gloomy thoughts. He kept listening to the younger blond who seemingly had planned this whole trip to vent his frustration, needing an ear to listen, a faithful one.
And it was the lancer whom he trusted once again, a stranger.
"Poor souls content by staying at the spectators seats where they can cast their hopes
and sorrows into illusions and plays. To quench their inner thirst, the one they don't dare to quench by themselves, they force their wishes and taint such magnificent
blades with vulgar horrible acts."
Meeting the two sleeping blades beside the sitting lancer, the redness in the governor's irises deepened with scorn yet glistened with shades of sorrow. He could never understand his people, nor forgive their lack of motive and carnal satisfaction.
"The sacrifices they offer to gods is no different than the ones they make at the arena."
Remembering the incident of the morning, the blond remarked, his little body shrinking under the weight of disgust. His frustration was comprehensible to the lancer who had heard of the morning accident, so he could understand why the governor needed to take a break and escape the "surroundings" he detested.
"Today, the sacrifice supposed to protect this land escaped, they claimed they retrieved it. Well, they rather replaced it by a stolen goat from a nearby ranch. I am not a fool, praying to gods for virtues by a stolen sacrifice! Such a pitiful farce!"
The blond curled his hands into fists, and shook his head in censure. His deep eyes, painted by the passion of his soul, were created to look down on others, not only the trivial creatures, but the supreme ones as well.
"If there were truly gods and they did create such wicked souls, then these supreme creatures deserve none of my respect and admiration for there are wicked and vile as well, soaring while enjoying the blasphemy humans commit."
While taking religion as conceded thing, the Celtic never put thoughts into it. He did believe, and had made few sacrifices but never made a prayer on them, these were bestowed upon the tips of his two blades, as long as gods supported him, the two spears of red and gold would never fail. The day defeat reaches them, is a day when he wields them for a disgraceful act, and so as long as he abides by the path of chivalry, his spears should always attain victory.
However…
He had broken the code of chivalry for love, but was never defeated.
He was restoring his lost honor by defending his land in battle, but was defeated and captured.
So, was it prayers or blades that protected him?
Since his slavery, he did not pray.
Did he even need to?
"I need nothing of this."
Came the answer to him, expressed by another's tongue and heart.
"I believe in the power of man!"
Frail arms extended into the endless space, lithe fingers slipped along the playful wind and palms embraced the silver beams. The hands that presumably grasped the stars, held nothing but empty air, but to the governor who was standing bathing by the showering rays, he was holding all the wishes made on these glowing orbs. His pale skin could feel the warmness brought by their light weakened by distance but never truly diminished.
While his hands could not reach any further, so did prayers. But while words affected nothing, it was the tiredness he was feeling coursing in his muscles that gave the act a meaning and maintained its persistence. It is the strength of man that built this world; these huge buildings racing the skies, these wide gardens equaling heavens', the few abandoned laws made by the primitive ancestors, were these not miracles man had performed?
The governor was floating along the stars he was admiring.
On the other hand, the Celtic was not moved. He kept his sitting posture, the two lances by his side. What the governor was trying to convey was beautiful but not real. Men can be courageous and noble, but they could perform no miracle. The Celtic lancer knew this much, and believed it since he was completely unable to call forth a miracle that would turn his twisted fate, but the feeling of emptiness that accompanied that realization brought jealousy into his heart as he watched perhaps a no less powerless man than himself, still aspiring and yearning for what he could not obtain.
A simple example of this was coming and waiting for hours on this hill despite not being granted what he had been promised from this visit.
"I came here tonight because the temple oracle predicted a fall of shooting stars that would grace my presence. Not even a single one appeared tonight."
The governor laughed at his luck stretching his neck. If only one would appear, what wish would he entrust it with?
So many wishes he had, swirling like a hurricane within his heart.
If only one would appear, which one should he choose?
If only one were to appear, he would probably lose it while making the choice.
Forever, the hurricane will swirl.
Something whistled through the air, a wind delivering glittering tips.
Eyes widened and breaths fastened, the blond turned frighteningly at his would be assassins to see their hatred - soaked arrows deflected across the darkness in every direction by the two blazing blades, with their wielder kneeling on one knee while waving his weapons.
These blades he admired protected him.
They had no reason to, but they still did.
The assassins attacked, and his soldiers came. Despite this, these blades continued to protect him.
Back at the arena, he was jealous of a man, a man who was fighting for nothing, a man who had no chance of gaining anything no matter how much he fought yet he still persisted, more elegantly and beautifully than anyone possessing a guaranteed hope.
How can he not respect and spare such elegant determination? The one he was aspiring for? The one he was longing for? The one he needed?
He had witnessed this pure will many times before, but now it was displayed for his sake.
The governor did not reply on the soldiers concerns, nor did he pay attention to the killed assassins whom he had reckoned to be angry citizens from the morning's incident. There was only one thing in his mind.
"I am in your debt, my knight."
Words were usually powerless, but this address froze time and revived a dying heart.
Longing to hear them, the words gracefully flowed.
Yearning to feel it, warmth slowly embraced his body.
Broken, his heart was suddenly blessed.
Without the blade of a sword touching his shoulder, without a speech reciting his deeds and courage, this gratitude that flowed sincerely from a creature weaker than him and less capable than himself held all the power and authority to knight him once more.
These strangely colored eyes could admire strength and reveal flaws, accepting them with the same grace they cheered for power.
He was a knight who had lost his honor escaping with his king's bride, haunted and chased, reduced to a nameless fugitive who could no longer proudly proclaim his title and loyalty, turning into a traitor who could never be forgiven. Even if the world was to forget, his tarnished honor could not allow him to.
No king would accept his oaths, and no foe would acknowledge his vows.
Except for this pair of admiring eyes.
Should he pledge a new loyalty to the man in front of him? The man who was weak in body but strong at heart?
Should he pledge his ridiculed loyalty to this soul made of wishes and soaring with dreams?
Two dreamers, one of glory and change, the other of freedom and redemption. They completed each other in a strange circle.
Was the lancer's freedom lurking within the governor's dreams and visions?
Their passion was equal though their capabilities were not matched. Where one was strong, the other was weak. Where one held the authority, the other was enchained.
And so they completed a circle weaved of determination and drawn by dreams.
A vow was made, not spoken but communicated.
The air that turned stale with the governor's earlier grievance, suddenly turned into a brief whiff that caressed the two men's faces, refreshing the lancer's heart with the distant blows of an unsaid promise.
"Someday, I won't allow anyone to taint the blade of an honorable knight."