Parcet Gladio et Hasta

Innocentes in Animarum Westris

Lavinia felt the awkward trickle of sweat down her spine as she followed Myra through the house of Magnus Conditius. There were too many guests in the house, causing it to be cramped, stuffy, and far too warm. She took a sip from her cup and puckered her mouth at the bitterness. The wine was too strong. It needed water…if she could find it.

“So nice to see you, Melissa!” cried Myra, greeting her fellow guests with practiced yet elegant bows. “Rufus! I haven’t seen you in a while. How was your stay at the villa? We must catch up later. Lavinia?”

Lavinia nearly bumped into Myra as they stopped. “What?”

“I haven’t heard you speak more than three words, ‘hello’ ‘good evening’ and ‘goodbye’ in the past hour.”

“Oh. Well…I haven’t seen any reason to speak.”

Myra gave her a rueful but amused glance. “While I appreciate the sentiment, the goal isn’t to talk about meaningful topics. It's to see, be seen, and have your voice heard in the crowd by those who don’t see you.”

“How can anyone hear with all this noise?” said Lavinia, shaking her head as she yelled to be heard above a young man’s raucous laughter.

“Image, Lavinia,” said Myra, smiling as she did so.

Lavinia smiled and nodded. “Oh, right.” She sipped her wine and struggled not to make another face. “Uh…the wine is rather strong.”

“Indeed,” said Myra. “I suppose if you can’t reason with someone to vote for you, bribe them instead when they are completely drunk.”

Lavinia shook her head. “They wouldn’t bribe, would they?”

“Not in the strictest sense,” said Myra, leading Lavinia by the arm toward the edge of the crowd where the couches resided. “But hosting parties and paying for public games is an indirect way of gaining the vote. Nothing illegal about it in the slightest.”

Lavinia glanced into the office as they passed it and saw her father with Magnus Conditius and a large number of senators. They were drinking and talking in hushed tones, separate from the rest of the crowd. “I still don’t understand why my father drinks and talks with the opposition.”

“It’s poor sport to ignore them. Besides, we must continue living together once the elections are over.”

They found an open seat among the cushions and sat together. “You aren’t making the most notable first impression,” said Myra, “But, then again, I would expect nothing less from most young women coming out into society.”

“Am I doing anything right?” Lavinia asked, distraught.

Well,” said Myra, lifting her cup to drink. “You aren’t embarrassing yourself by acting foolish.”

“So my defense is that I’m not as bad as I could be?”

Myra smiled. “Don’t worry. It takes time. I have no doubt you will master it. We all…oh no.”

“What is it?” Lavinia asked. She followed Myra’s gaze to a pair of women strolling toward them through the crowd, people moving out of their way purposefully. Lavinia recognized only one of them. “It’s only Augustina.”

“And her sister, Lesbia,” said Myra. “Best steel yourself, she will find some way to get under your skin.”

Lesbia spotted them and pointed. Augustina said something to her and the ladies approached. “Good evening, Myra Montinius,” said Lesbia, her voice overly sweet. Her dark curls were tied into a fashionable high bun and her dress was of the finest lilac. “May we sit with you?”

Lavinia looked to either side, puzzled. There were no seats by them. No sooner had Lesbia spoken, however, than two ladies beside them rose from their seats and left quite coincidentally. Lesbia and Augustina sat across from them, both smiling in apparent politeness. Lavinia did the same and, desperate to show Myra that she wasn’t a total loss this evening, spoke up. “I am Lavinia Honerius. I am pleased to meet you. How do you two know each other?”

Lesbia turned her smile on Lavinia and it stretched a bit tighter. Augustina stepped in before Lesbia could speak. “We are sisters, Lavinia. I’m pleased to see you again. Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yes,” said Lavinia before realizing this was a lie. “Well…sort of…”

“Myra,” said Lesbia, “Are you tutoring…Horatius’s daughter?”

“I am.”

“That makes sense.”

“Lesbia,” said Augustina, a warning in her voice.

“I haven’t seen you in some time,” continued Lesbia. “I have been wondering where you were the past few parties.” She turned to Augustina. “You didn’t let me finish sister.”

“Well, I missed your company,” responded Myra. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” said Lesbia, sighing dramatically. “All of these parties we are hosting. Father has me running ragged entertaining people, supporting his chosen candidates, and errands. It’s like I’m a servant for him.”

“How fortunate he is to have you helping him then,” said Myra. “No father could ask for a better daughter.”

Lavinia considered her lessons as she thought of something else to say. If their father was Magnus Conditius, then he favored Rufus Ambitius, Augustina’s husband, and…someone else. Lesbia covered for her. “Augustina has Rufus under her thumb, of course, but he has me charming that old creature, Alexus Dignius. He’s rather bloodthirsty, always howling on about destroying Carxandria and when he isn’t doing that, he’s complaining that we don’t have enough presence in the Midland sea. I do believe he intends to make war on the world.”

“You have your work cut out for you then, reining him in,” said Myra.

“I’ll succeed, never fear,” said Lesbia, taking a glass from a servant passing by. “I only wish he wasn’t so handsy. Gods, he’s disgusting. And rapidly falling behind in favorability among the voters.”

Lavinia blushed and searched for her glass with her hand blindly. Her breath caught as her fingers brushed it and it toppled over, spilling onto the floor. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Augustina smiled kindly and shook her head. “No matter. You are hardly the first to spill at a party here. Nor is your wine the worst thing to have spilled onto our floor.”

“Hardly comforting words, Augustina,” snorted Lesbia, sipping daintily from her cup.

“Thank you,” said Lavinia. “How are you doing? Are you-”

“I am well,” interrupted Augustina, cutting her off and shaking her head. “I am taking care of myself. I hope your lessons proceed well. Will she make her father proud, do you think?”

This last question was directed to Myra who smiled and nodded. “She is well on her way. I have no doubt she will make her family proud.”

Lesbia snorted. “Indeed. I suppose she is beautiful enough. She will catch a husband if nothing else.”

Lavinia blushed even further, unsure what to say. Myra gave Lesbia an equally wide smile then put a hand on Lavinia’s arm. “You should refill your cup. Don’t be long.”

“Of course,” said Lavinia.

She glanced back only once to see Myra leaning in to converse in hushed tones with Lesbia and Augustina. It seemed she wasn’t privy to this conversation, whatever it was. She bumped into a young man who was drinking heavily and he began to cough. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry!”

The man cursed as his companions laughed at his distress and Lavinia hurried on. As she passed the office where her father was, yelling from within caused her to pause and peek inside. Damianus Humilius was yelling at their host, Magnus Conditius, his face flushed with anger. “You continue to say that and still my request is put off. If the Senate will not hear me then I must demand-”

“You may demand nothing from me,” said Magnus. “Hold your tongue, sir. If you cannot be civil then leave.”

“Forgive him, Magnus,” said her father, moving into view. “Too much drink has made him forget himself.”

“I told you the drink was too strong!” said another voice within and Magnus frowned. “Then water it! Just because it is an open casket, doesn’t mean you have to drink to excess!”

Lavinia watched as her father took Damianus by the shoulder and led him toward the door, whispering in his ear. She pulled away, hiding behind a group of young men as she watched Damianus leave and stomp to the back garden. She emerged, looked within to see her father back in conversation, then followed Damianus outside.

The garden was finer than her fathers, larger in size and with a greater variety of plants, fountains, and statues. She turned her gaze from the statue of a simpering man, his full body exposed to her as he presented the garden with open arms and a casual posture, and began her search for Damianus. There weren’t many in the garden. A few who needed air, a few lovers either whispering or kissing. Yet, he was nowhere to be seen.

Further in she wandered, the light of the torches dimmed and the noise of the party faded. She found him at last by a fountain, sitting on a bench and looking into its waters. He looked up, startled at her appearance, and she could see he was crying. He turned away, hiding his face as instinct took over for her. She moved to his side, sitting beside him and asking, “What is it? Are you hurt?”

He choked out a laugh at her question and she felt the childishness of it. She blushed and realized she might be sitting too close for it to be proper. Yet to pull away felt insensitive. She sat in a quandary as he struggled to control his voice. “Fo…forgive me. I would not have you see me like this.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well I do,” he said, choking with a laugh again.

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She sat beside him as he struggled to control himself, then hesitatingly put a hand out to touch his shoulder. His hand instinctively reached out and took her own as he began to breathe deeply. “Thank you,” he said.

She nodded. “Can I help in any way?”

“You are,” he said. “There is nothing else that can be done. I have tried to speak with the Senate. They will not hear my plea. The fate of my people is with The Cause now. I…I cannot…I cannot save my people. I don’t know what to do.”

He began to weep once more, his sobs restrained but seeping through in a keen of lamentation. He buried his face in his hands as he moaned behind clenched teeth. “I cannot save them. I cannot…oh Cause. In fire and blood we shall perish.”

Lavinia tried to comfort him as he slumped further into himself. She put an arm around his shoulders as they shook and wondered what words could best comfort him. But there was none she could think of.

She wondered how one could comfort a man over the impending destruction of his nation.

***

Justinius stood with the young men before the doors of the banquet hall of the Aequendar. Laurentius was at the head of the crowd and turned to the group assembled before the doors as he said, “Right…we are to represent Aquilla. Act as such.” He turned to Ardellius and said in a whisper, “You especially. Behave yourself and don’t embarrass us.”

Ardellius flushed at this but shook his head mockingly and smiled. “I would never!”

Ardellius nodded and turned to face the doors. He gave a side look to Justinius as he fidgeted with his toga. “Stop messing with it.”

“I’m not used to this sort of clothing,” said Justinius, trying to place it more comfortably over the arm. “Why must we wear these uncomfortable fashion statements when the others do not?”

“They are symbols of our office as senators. Wear it with dignity and don’t embarrass us if you can help it.”

“Words to consider for yourself, senator,” said Justinius.

The conversation ended as the doors opened and the party of young Aquillan men was escorted into the banquet hall.

It was a sight to behold: An enormous hall lined with chandeliers of candles along its center beam. On one side of the hall, a long table was festooned with food and chairs lined the wall where others could sit and talk. The opposite side of the hall contained a dance floor where Aequendar moved fluidly across an intricately tiled floor between rows of dancers, stepping lightly to a tune played by performers. Beside the dancers was an open floor where people seemed to congregate and talk to one another and take drinks from a bar, behind which barrels stood in ready stacks. Beyond all that, large windows allowed the moonlight to stream into the hall, leaving long lines of silver across the floor. Justinius marked that the air was filled with glowing dots of Fatae circling, mostly near the rafters, and dancing to their own tune.

The party proceeded down the large staircase and was met by Falehiem halfway down on a landing where the stairs were divided on either side. “Welcome, honored guests! Please make yourselves comfortable and do not hesitate to ask for favors from the servers if needed.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lowellus muttered from behind them and several men sniggered.

Justinius blushed and moved down the opposite stairs to Laurentius. He found himself near the dancers and he watched them weave in and out of one another, joining hands then spinning away, always circling and moving up and down the line. It was quite intricate and looked to require more skill than he possessed. He was used to folk dances, jigs, or dancing with only one partner, not an entire line of dancers.

He soon found himself ensconced in a corner seat with a drink in hand and watching the proceedings. On closer inspection, the dance was actually not so difficult. It was a similar pattern repeated over and over again. Of more interest, however, was Falehiem. He was wandering among the guests and speaking to each in turn. Many of the Aquillan men had found food and drink and were sitting huddled in their own groups, talking in hushed tones together. Some, like Lowellus, attempted to talk to Aequendar but found most couldn’t understand their language and so their comments fell on deaf ears. This caused many of the men to begin making unseemly remarks to the Aequendar and laughing when the Aequendar couldn’t understand them.

Worse still, some of the men had become completely drunk and were talking either loudly or even attempting to flirt with Aequendar women who gave the abject looks of disdain as they moved off. The belligerent Aquillans were becoming a sore on the party quickly as Aequendar began to avoid them.

Falehiem was moving to a new group when he spotted Justinius in the corner and moved to greet him. Justinius stood. “Greetings, Lord Falehiem.”

“Just Falehiem tonight, I think,” said the Aequendar lord. “Your companions have settled on many far less formal titles. Why do you sit in the corner alone? Should you not be with your companions?”

“I would rather observe them and what a mess they are making of things. I believe you are doing the same thing…if I’m not mistaken.”

Falehiem smiled at him. “And if I am?”

“I might wonder why.”

Falheim glanced at a group of Aquillan’s banging the bar as they called for another round. Ardellius was loudest of all, leading the men in their antics. “I had thought to see what sort of breed the next leaders of Aquilla were to be by inviting you here. It seems your country is in for a treat in a few years.”

Justinius nodded. “I am well aware.”

“And does it bother you?”

He looked to the Aequendar with incredulity. “Only a fool would say otherwise I think.”

“Then there are many fools,” said Falehiem.

“What do you observe about them, exactly?” asked Justinus, watching Ardellius harass a complaining Matthias.

“I observe…that they are bold and determined. They would be an unstoppable force if they would just turn these to good. But, as of this moment, they seemed determined to stumble into every pitfall I have set up for them.”

Justinius’s head snapped to look at the Aequendar lord. “What? What do you mean?”

Falehiem smiled. “I don’t mean to imply I have been disingenuous, merely that I have set…tests for my guests. The finest wines from Al’Iiliah, known to tempt even the most restrained of drinkers. The most beautiful of my courtiers to converse with them… short-lived as that was. Even I was impressed by how fast they drove my people away, or perhaps my people have come to expect much. I have even planted the most comfortable of areas free of Aequendar for any who wish to avoid speaking with anyone and remain in silence.”

His gaze turned to Justinius who became aware of himself and his position over the past hour. He blushed at the realization that he had fallen directly into a trap of his own. Falehiem shook his head, “Do not be embarrassed, Justinius. I know well your fault, for it was my own. It is easy to sit back and watch the faults of others, mocking them for their folly. Yet sitting by and mocking others while doing nothing is, in another way, folly itself. It is the other side of the same coin. There is an old proverb of ours that says it well: apathy is death.”

Justinius looked surprised. “We have the same proverb.”

“And where do you think you learned it from,” said Falehiem, laughing.

Justinius sat in puzzlement, his fingers playing with the hem of his toga in agitation. “What should I have done? What am I supposed to do?”

Falehiem took a deep breath and sat straight, staring at the guests. “That is your choice. Choosing to do nothing is a choice in itself. I have a better question. Why should you do anything?”

Justinius was now clenching his toga hem, shaking his head. “I’m not sure…I guess…no that’s stupid.”

“Your thought has already begun,” said Falehiem. “Let it complete itself.”

Justinius looked at Falehiem. “I would do what was right…if I only knew what was right.”

“And what defines right?”

The answer came in an instant. “Truth.”

Falehiem put a hand on Justinius’s shoulder and nodded. “Then find truth and you will find what is right.”

A crash came from the wine barrels as a pitcher clattered to the ground and wine spilled across the floor. Ardellius was laughing beside it with Matthias looking very uncomfortable at the eyes drawn toward him. He hissed something which made Ardellius laugh all the louder. “Whoop! That was my fault! My apologies! I am, indeed, a clumsy ass.”

Justinius blushed and turned to Falehiem. “I should get him to bed. Your people shouldn’t have to deal with him. Excuse me.”

He stood and marched toward his friend, reaching Ardellius at the same time Laurentius did. “You idiot,” said Laurentius. “Do you have to make a scene no matter where you go?”

“Only when I’m feeling good,” said Ardellius, reaching for another cup.

“You’ve had enough,” said Laurentius, knocking it from his hand.

“Oh, look at that. Now you’ve spilled wine. Do you always have to upstage me?”

Laurentius was turning red. “Shut up, Ardellius!”

Justinius stepped in. “Perhaps we should take this elsewhere?”

“I agree with the half-gens,” said Lowellus, walking up behind them with a drink in hand. “It’s best to get him back to the rooms to sober up before he makes even bigger fools of all of us.”

Laurentius nodded, “Let's go, Ardellius.”

Ardellius shook his head. “I’m afraid I will need some help walking.”

Laurentius was seething, grabbing Ardellius by the arm roughly before shoving him away. “Lowellus, Matthius, take him by the arms back to our rooms.”

Matthius threw up his hand, “Why me?”

Laurentius glared at him and Matthius, grumbling, took Ardellius by the arm. Justinius stepped forward. “I’ll show you the way back. I’m pretty sure I know the way.”

“You just want to leave,” Ardellius said, chuckling.

Laurentius eyed Justinius then moved in close, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “You should stay. As a senator, your presence is important.”

Justinius shook his head. “I won’t be long. Besides, the last thing we need is these three wandering lost in the halls and trespassing into places they shouldn’t be.”

Laurentius gave him a hard stare before nodding. “Don’t take long.”

Justinius nodded but, as his gaze turned away, he spotted two other pairs of eyes gazing at him. Mephanor, high prince of the Aequendar, sat at the head of the table, and on his left was Wilkias. The dark-haired Aequendar’s gaze was baleful as he sipped from his wine and turned to speak with Mephanor who continued to watch the Aquillan men.

Justinius turned away quickly and spoke softly. “Let's go. Quickly.”

The men half carried, half pulled Ardellius through the Aequendar halls as Justinius led the way up stairways and down corridors. He had a pretty good visual memory and only felt uncertain a few times. It was when he spotted a large staircase with a hall on either side, that he knew they were close. “It’s this way.”

“I can walk,” said Ardellius, “Leave me be!”

They let him go and he wobbled slightly on his feet. He stumbled toward the stairs then, looking up said, “On second thought, I could use some help up those.”

They helped him up the steps, Lowellus and Matthius cursing him along the way. “We know you can walk!”

“Of course I can’t! Look how much I’m relying on your support.”

Justinius reached the top of the stairs first then stopped. There was something wrong, he wasn’t sure what. Something felt off. He glanced down the tunnel they were to take and sensed, rather than saw, a darkness coming from it. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Let’s go.”

They began to walk down the hall, Ardellius leaning on them in a more friendly manner than for support. Justinius continued to feel a sense of dread. Something dark, that was all he knew. But that made no sense. The hallway was perfectly lit. They were just passing the doorway to the museum of art pieces that included the dark crystal. Perhaps that was what he was sensing.

He stopped in front of the entrance. Ardellius continued talking loudly, “Come gentleman, we can have a party of our own in the dormitories. All we need is some wine and my friends who have such wonderful senses of humor! Well…except Matthius.”

“I can be fun,” began Matthius.

“No,” said Lowellus, shaking his head and putting out a hand. “Just…stop. It's OK. We can’t all be fun.”

“You know what, I don’t need-” Matthius started.

“Be quiet!” Justinius said angrily.

He was listening carefully, his head tilting further. Ardellius moved behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Shh!”

Justinius closed his eyes and listened. In the silence, he finally heard it. It was an exhaling of breath that traveled from the museum and toward them. Coming closer. “We should go.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Something is coming, I don’t know what, but we need to go.”

“Well that makes things perfectly clear,” said Ardellius. “I’m going to bed, don’t worry.”

“What’s wrong,” Matthius asked, looking around. “Are those Aequendar following us?”

Justinius shook his head and peered into the darkness. A sound came to them, hissing through the darkness like a blast of wind. It was like the hollow drawing of breath from a giant bellows. It echoed around the hall and filled Justinius’s heart with terror. They all gazed now into the darkness, unable to see anything.

“You know,” said Ardellius, standing straight, “I’m not so drunk as to know that we should run.”

Then they saw two floating pairs of pale lights in the darkness, slanted in shape like a cat’s eyes. Julius shook at the sight. “Run,” said Justinius, unclasping his toga’s pin and shedding it as he spoke. “Run now.”

“Where?” asked Lowellus. “To the dorms?”

“No,” said Justinius. “We could be trapped there. Back to the party. Go. Go!”

They fled in terror, the sound following them down the corridor, none of them willing to look back and see what followed them.