Chapter Fourteen

“I knew you were up to no good,” Steve says then sighs dramatically, so much for having him stand up for me. The church’s guard already removed my gag and handcuffs before we entered, “Vandalizing the church? What good can come of that?”

“I didn’t vandalize it, not really,” I mutter, “Vandalizing implies I made something worse, this is an improvement.” The glaring tells me that the guard doesn’t agree with my take.

“Alan, ah, that’s the paladin who got stationed here a few days ago, told me that we don’t want him to clean it up. Something about not wanting to bother with supervision,” the awfully relaxed guard of the church informs Steve.

“Then what am I supposed to do with him…?” he mutters, eyes pointing upwards. His religious colleague shrugs at the question, unconcerned with my future.

“Send him to his parents? Or keep him in a cell for a while. I don’t really care as long as I don’t have to apprehend him again.” And with that sentiment laid bare, the church guard excuses himself, leaving the room.

“So, Raphael…” Steve begins.

“So, Stephen…” I mimic him.

“I told you, my name is Steve, just regular Steve, it’s not short for anything,” Stephen says, irritated, then his face relaxes, “Look kid, why did you do this anyway.” He grabs a seat and motions for me to do the same. I remain standing, however. Staring silently at him.

“What did you think this was going to achieve?” he questions, and the words are out of my mouth before I realize it.

“Anything to hurt them,” I say, voice full of venom. The guard in front of me remains unperturbed by my outburst.

“This doesn’t do that, it doesn’t help either. You, painting some scandalous artwork on an obscured wall of the biggest church in the country? Who was even going to see?” I break eye contact, aware of the futility of my actions. But what else am I supposed to do? I can’t forgive them, I can’t ever forget the sight of…

“Why do you want to hurt the church, Raphael,” Steve asks.

“Well, why do you protect them!” I yell, “They’re murderers, and it’s not like they help the people here anyway. Have you seen what they decorate their inner walls with? How many families does a single sculpture feed?” I vent, pent-up rage unleashed. The guardsman looks confused.

“Murderers? I won’t say that the Order is virtuous but I think that’s going a bit far,” he tells me. Once again the memories of that day flash before my eyes, some armored prick telling me my parents weren’t coming back. Rachel yelling and shouting. That callous gaze of his is seared into my very soul. I can still hear him sigh before he cut her down. Cleanly beheaded. My very own sister, my last fragment of family.

I go still, anger making way for apathy. The sun shines just as bright outside but my world has darkened regardless.

“Tell that to my family, to my sister, or try saying it to me again, the person that was left behind,” I say, with watery eyes and my voice barely a whisper. Steve goes silent at that.

“Ralph, I’ve known you for years. I’m the one that took you to the orphanage when you got dropped off here in the city. Why have you never told me this?”

Because I wanted to avoid it.

“You never asked,” I mutter instead. He just sighs at my response.

“C’mon, let’s take you back home. They must be worried about you.” I look at him incredulously.

“You’re letting me go?” But he just laughs.

“Nope, but the headmistress will need some time to think of a punishment for you,” he tells me with a smile. My face pales at the thought. We keep walking as I try to convince him otherwise.

“Can’t you just put me in a cell? No need to tell her right? She doesn’t need to know!”

“She’ll realize you’re gone during dinner at the latest, and who do you think she’s going to complain to then?” I hang my head solemnly at his words.

“That’s right, she’d go straight to me, and she would find me with you behind bars. That won’t look good for me either.” I hate how he’s right, but I’m still not looking forward to this. Without anything else to say, we walk in silence. I entertain the thought of running, but where would I sleep? Or get food from? It’s not like the headmistress is going to kill me either, but her punishments are creative so it might come close…

It’s easy to see the orphanage, a stone wall surrounds a field of grass; a large gate keeps intruders out and children in. I can see Timmy chasing Natascha, and Jacob is bouncing a ball against the wall. A very familiar sight, the atmosphere makes me feel relaxed. Steve has his own key for the gate, he’s not unfamiliar with bringing back kids, both because of thwarted runaways and when we forget the time. The metal barrier creaks and groans as he pushes it open, the noise catches the attention of both Timmy and Natascha, Jacob doesn’t even look up though. All of us know that Jacob’s off in his own little world when he’s bouncing that ball.

“Ralph!” Timmy shouts, his little legs carrying him towards me as fast as he can. He’s the youngest here, barely ten. Younger even than I was when I was first brought here. Natasha is older, though not as old as me. She’s roughly sixteen. Keeping track of birthdays is a very loose activity here, not everyone knows when they were born. I’m fortunate in that regard since I still remember celebrating mine with my parents. Rachel’s head falls in my mind’s eye again, today is a particularly bad day. I try to not think about it when possible, but it inevitably creeps up on me. Not a week has passed where I didn’t see her dying in front of me. There’s always something to remind me, forcing me to relive that day.

Ralph grabs my leg and hugs it as if his life depends on it, anchoring me in place. I point to it as I finally talk to Steve again.

“Sorry, I can’t go with you, Timmy caught me.” I explain remorsefully, “You’ll have to go alone.” The guardsman doesn’t even look at me.

“Hey Timmy, if you’re good I’ll give you a candy,” he says nonchalantly, my eyes widening. Timmy releases me even faster than he grabbed me, the traitor. Then he stands in front of Steve and holds out his hand. The sight of him getting candy fills me with jealousy, my misfortune is his luck.

“Let’s go,” Stephen says and continues walking. I follow wordlessly, Timmy’s betrayal is too fresh. The imposing front door gives the brave guard pause, he swallows nervously. After a moment of hesitation he pushes through resolutely, the door opens, causing an even bigger ruckus than the gate did. Steve winces.

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“I should oil those hinges,” he mutters. And then the old headmistress is walking toward us and we both freeze up.

“So, how come you’re bringing Raphael here personally, Stephen?” the old crone asks.

“My name isn’t Stephen, it’s Steve.”

“You should take the opportunity to go by Stephen, it’s a much more dignified name,” she responds. Poor Steve can’t bring himself to argue.

“Well in any case,” he says, trying to brush past her words, “Raphael here was found vandalizing the church building, they sent him to me and I decided we should tell you ourselves. He’ll be in a cell for a couple of days, so you won’t have to cook for him.” The old hag’s eyes narrow.

“He was vandalizing the church you say? And why was he doing that?” she questions, but I remain silent. None of my reasons would help my case. Stephen on the other hand sighs and responds seriously.

“He’s… angry at the church, we had a little talk back at the base.” The headmistress nods her head.

“And?” she asks.

“Perhaps we should talk about this privately?” Steve says, pointedly not looking at me. But she’s unconcerned.

“If he can tell you, you can tell me with him hearing it.” The guardsman just sighs again.

“Fine, he says the church are murderers.” I refuse to make eye contact; though I feel her gaze on me.

“Hm, we’ll talk about this in more detail young man, you’re not off the hook. And when you’re out of your cell again, well I’ll put in plenty of effort into your cooking,” she says, smiling evilly. A chill goes down my spine at her words. Her food is infamous, even though she can make normal food, and she does it every night, her hobby is experimenting with ingredients. There are some horrific dishes that she produced, and she takes great joy in using them as punishment.

I can see Steve went pale too, and he stutters when he talks again.

“R-right, I’ll just get him back to the precinct and we’ll have him think about his actions in a cell.”

“You do that,” the old hag says, shooing us away. She turns around and walks off. After her departure, we follow suit. I wave goodbye at Timmy and Natascha. Jacob is still bouncing a ball off the wall, but even he seems to notice and he waves at me. Surprised, I wave back.

“That’s odd, Jacob almost reacts when he’s busy,” I mutter.

“He must have noticed how guilty you look,” Steve teases me, I let out a mocking laugh.

“Real funny,” I tell him, this doesn’t stop him from cackling at his joke. We keep walking, taking a few shortcuts here and there.

“So, are you going to tell me about your family?” the guardsman ventures, I glare at him.

“Didn’t think so, but it was worth a try,” he says, and shrugs, “It helps, you know? Talking about it, I mean.” I don’t answer, I just listen to the sound of our footsteps, and the cawing of birds above us. In the distance, there’s a group of familiar people walking, what a coincidence. One of them notices us too. She bumps the other girl, the one that I saved from a caved-in head, and they turn around.

“Hey!” the girl yells, Steve looks confused.

“Friends of yours?” he whispers at me. I shake my head.

“I met them this morning, saved that girl from a flower pot.” He looks at me, no less confused than before.

“What’s up, how come there’s a guard with you?” she says, as the whole group gets close, “Are you his bodyguard? You don’t look like a noble.” Steve just looks perplexed at the whole situation.

“Me? No, I’m bringing him to jail.” The girl’s eyes widen.

“To jail!? What did he do?” she asks.

“That’s private-” Steve begins, but I answer anyway.

“Drew on the church, got caught.”

She laughs, I’m still struggling to remember her name, then her friend pipes up.

“That’s rough, and after you saved Sophie too,” the friend says.

“Saved her? What did he do?” asks Steve.

“He shattered some flower pot in mid-air, shards of ceramic everywhere. Still had the dirt inside hit her on the head though, so that was funny.” Sophie playfully kicks at her, but the girl dodges her friend’s attack.

“It was fine, it wasn’t hard to clean,” Sophie says, defending me. Steve turns to me.

“You did what? Do you know how hard a spell like that is? Most second-years can’t do that.” he says, referring to the Academy’s students. One of the guys stands up for me too.

“I saw it too, he did that,” he lies, because they didn’t even believe me when it all happened. There’s no way he saw it. Not that I’m complaining now that he’s helping me.

“I didn’t even know you could do magic…” mutters Steve, “You’re still spending some time in a cell,” he says, glaring at me. Then he starts walking again and I hurry to catch up with him.

“No leniency? Not even after I saved someone?” I ask him. He stubbornly refuses to look at me and continues walking.

The guard station comes into view and we head for the door, two of Steve’s colleagues are next to the entrance and they greet him, only offering dramatic glares at me. I return the favor, they’re just trying to intimidate me. Inside, we encounter a quiet interior, a bored guard sitting on a chair filing paperwork.

“Mike, I’m putting this one in cell fourteen,” Steve tells the clerk, who looks up surprised.

“Hm? Oh, Steve. Before you do that, the captain was looking for you,” he says, lacking any amount of enthusiasm. I’m not sure if he’s totally here in the room with us. His head seems to be somewhere else entirely.

“I’ll just drop him off and then I’ll go see her.” But the clerk shakes his head.

“No, she said you had to visit, and I quote ‘even if he’s detaining an armada of demons’ so just take him with you,” he says with a serious tone of voice. A strained smile forms on Steve’s face, but he eventually deflates. He turns to me.

“Don’t say a word in front of her,” he warns me. I look at him, initiating a stare-off.

“We’ll see,” I say eventually, I don’t intend to dig an even deeper hole for myself. Steve just sighs, lacking the energy to deal with me. So he guides me to the captain’s office, I've never met her so I don’t know what to expect; I’m expecting someone stern, especially with that sentence the clerk quoted. I don’t have to wonder for long.

“Ma’am, what did you need me for?” Steve asks after knocking on the oaken door.

“Get in here,” a voice responds, muffled by the wood. Dutifully, we both enter. So for the first time in more than half a decade of living in the capital, I meet its head guardian. She’s not what I expected. Her black hair absorbs the light of the sun shining in through the window, it matches her piercing eyes. Her uniform is barely different from the one the other guards wear, just without the armor added on top. This desk job doesn’t require anything like that.

“Steve,” she begins, ignoring my entire existence, “Can you explain to me, why I was just chastised by the bishop?” My poor guard friend pales.

“Uhm, ma’am, it’s not like we-” he tries, but the captain cuts him off.

“It’s because some idiot kid got caught drawing on the church,” she says, her voice deadpan. The window is very interesting, you can see a small garden through it.

“That’s why they have guards,” Steve responds, keeping his answer short. It prevents her from cutting him off yet again.

“I know that!” she yells at him, “And so does the bishop! It doesn’t stop him from patronizing me!” After that outburst, she sinks back in her chair, and for the first time since I stepped inside, she notices that Steve isn’t here alone.

“...Why is there some kid here?” she asks slowly.

“Mike told me that you wanted me here as soon as possible, even if it meant bringing Ralph.” The captain pinches her nose, muttering something, I can only catch the word ‘idiot’ being used more than once.

“Why is Ralph here?” she eventually asks.

“Because you said I had to show up as soon as possible?” Steve tries. The captain sighs and looks up at the air with a pained expression.

“I mean, why is he in this building,” she clarifies. Her subordinate winces when he realizes his misunderstanding, then again when he draws the connection between the captain’s foul mood and my crime.

“Ah, uh, I was just going to lock him up for a day or so, so he has time to think about his actions,” he says, trying to avoid the topic of what those actions were. The captain is less than amused by his antics and isn’t fooled.

“And what,” she begins, threateningly, “Would those actions be?”

Steve is desperately trying to think of something, and I’m mentally rooting for him.

“He’s the one that vandalized the church,” the filthy traitor reveals. I turn to him with a look of betrayal. He avoids eye contact with both me and the captain. Meanwhile, his supervisor does the opposite, staring straight at me, and in a bold move, I look straight into her eyes. I don’t want to be punished but I have no shame in my actions. If anything, I wish I did more.

“Lock him up for a week,” she tells Steve, and we both react in shock.

“A week!?” I sputter in protest.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh, ma’am?” my friend says, more diplomatically than my words. The captain doesn’t even bother responding, going straight back to the documents in front of her. Defeated, we slowly and awkwardly leave the room. Not a word is exchanged between us, but when we head back to the entrance, part of me hopes Steve is just going to set me free. No such luck.

“MIke, reserve cell fourteen for the next week.” Mike is just as confused as us.

“A week? Isn’t that quite long? What did the kid do?”

“Unknowingly angered the captain,” Steve mutters, he and Mike share a knowing look.

With my fate for the next week decided, I am guided towards my new, temporary, home. We walk past the other cells and it gives me a clear indication of what state I will be spending the next seven days in. Hard beds and a toilet, not much else can be seen in the rooms. The numbers above the bars go up the further along we get. Fourteen doors later we stand in front of our destination, at least the beds in this cell have some stuffing it seems. That’s an improvement.

“Well, here you go,” the guard tells me as he opens the door. Obediently I walk in and drop myself onto the bed. It groans as I put my weight on it.

“You’ll get your meals delivered at regular times. And don’t make a mess because we won’t clean it until after you leave,” he warns me.