It was intervention then. The court could say nothing because there was nothing that could be said. The guards parted slowly as Berenice came to give me back my manuscript. She smiled gracefully as I tremulously took the precious tome from her hands. Far from my worst fears, the Historiae Astrologus was miraculously unharmed. Its pristine pages were as untouched as the day when Master Rigel had charged me with their protection.

Berenice stood to give her testimony, but I only half-listened, still holding the manuscript as if the Potentate Himself had personally returned it to me. It was only at the end of her testimony that I came back to my senses.

Messalina was frozen in terror. Her once fawning admirers had all abandoned her, leaving Charon as her last remaining attendant. But far from rejoicing, I felt nothing in this victory. I had wanted none of this, wishing only to depart peacefully into the frozen wastes. When you read these words, I want you to understand that I took no delight in Messalina’s suffering. What happened next, what happened after, that woman solely brought upon herself.

Fulvia raised a dainty hand. It was clear her opinion of us had not changed in the slightest, but even she had to assent to the truth, or rather, the will of the court.

“Messalina Aurelian! You have claimed this man was no courier. You have claimed your sister was too feeble to give testimony. And yet, your sister has come here both with a manuscript and testimony supporting the accused. What say you!?”

“She lies!” Messalina desperately called out, hoping anyone would believe her. “She betrayed me for those two men! I couldn’t bring her before the court because she was scheming with them. You have to believe me!” Her voice cracked. Tears were in her eyes as she fell to her knees, doing all that she could to keep from sobbing.

I could see the look of utter disdain on Fulvia’s face. Messalina had played everyone, and now that the farce had been revealed, humiliated the court for believing her. I could see that Fulvia wanted nothing more than to end this charade and forget this trial had ever happened. And so she did.

“Believe you? Messalina Aurelian, you have committed perjury before this court! You have lied before the highest jurisdiction of this city, and you will suffer the consequences of your crime! You are hereby stripped of your lands and titles and banished to the wild! Do not ever show your face in this city again!”

I knew banishment out there likely meant a freezing death, but Fulvia’s vindictiveness told me she had an entirely different reason for the punishment. Out there, Messalina could only fall upon some wild man’s graces to take her on as a wife. If she was to live, she would have to call some savage master.

Messalina stumbled to her feet and turned to run. I do not know where, but I can only surmise that she would’ve done anything to get away from the court. I can understand as much, still bitterly remembering my encounter with Elagabalus. She might’ve even given the guards a chase, how quickly she reacted. But an ivory white hand caught her just as she had taken the first step.

Charon silently loomed over the woman, and she looked up at him, horrified.

“Unhand me!” She ordered wretchedly, struggling against his inhuman grip.

The mannequin ignored her, the mask of the old man instead turning to Berenice, waiting for her instruction.

Berenice looked at her older sister as one might a dead relative, her expression a sad, longing pity for what might’ve been. I wondered at that moment whether Messalina had always been like this. Or, if there had once been any happy memories shared between the two. Whatever Berenice thought in that moment, it soon gave way to a detached resignation. She nodded for Charon to hand Messalina to the guards, and turned her back on her sister. I sensed that this had not been for the first time, but it was for the last time.

Messalina, screaming and shouting, was escorted out by the guards. I took one last look at that woman, her gashed and bandaged face contorting in fury. She resisted them as best she could, but she was no match against five men. They practically carried her, out to whatever fate awaited her out in the wastes. And my very last thought of Messalina was noticing how she was screaming that none of this was her fault.

“As the courier possesses a manuscript, he will be allowed to continue to Calrathia with provisions from the city.”

I turned back to the equerry and nodded in relief. Justice was finally being done. I breathed a great sigh as I felt a burden fall from my shoulders. And yet, as I enjoyed my hard won victory, I felt a shadow cross over me. Master Algol stood behind me. For the briefest of moments, I knew he was there. And he grinned.

“Additionally, given the abnormal circumstances surrounding the accuser, the punishment for Crixus shall be lessened. Death by a piercing through the heart.”

Victory snatched itself from my fingers yet again, and I was left with nothing but bitterness. I stood there, unable to speak, unable to move. It was as if the life had been stolen from my bones. But I seized back control of myself at the last moment.

“How is that just!?” I cried out just before Fulvia could dismiss us. “You yourself saw Messalina’s treachery!”

The woman turned to me haughty, and she admonished me in her judgement. “You admitted before this court that Crixus had attempted murder! No matter how just his cause, he sought the killing of a then citizen of Terminus. That cannot be excused!” That was true, but I saw the bloodlust in her eyes. What was truer was that she needed to punish one of us to save face.

Crixus looked at me with bitter shock, and then resentment, and I knew he remembered the words of my oath. I knew he would hold me to account for them. No doubt the man expected me to leave him, to run away and abandon him to his death. That might’ve been the pragmatic thing to do. It was what many would’ve done. I had fulfilled my promise to the letter, arguing as passionately as I would for my own life. But if I deserted him now, I would still be breaking my word.

It is a harrowing thing, throwing away your hard won freedom for a man who has done nothing but ill towards you. I had finally gotten all that I wanted, and at the final moment, it was taken away yet again. I steeled myself for the words I needed to speak.

“I cannot accept this!” I shouted back. “Crixus does not deserve this punishment! If you do not release him, I shall stand with him in death! And then you will have executed the last courier who will ever come to your city!”

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I had hoped those words might have at least swayed the masses, appealing to the traditions of old. And they knew I was right. No one had sent a courier in centuries. By all reason, I would be the last to make the journey to Calrathia.

It was also strange. I had always known this, but suddenly saying it out loud opened a hole in my heart. None would come after me. I was the last, for now and forevermore. The world would never see such pilgrims again.

I was the final contribution mankind would make to the pursuit of knowledge, and humanity would never dream of such heights again.

And what did I see writ upon the faces of Terminus? What answer did these people give to their ancestors who had proudly fulfilled their oaths—their duty—since time immemorial?

“No one asked you to come to this city or deliver your manuscript,” Fulvia coldly replied. “Join Crixus in execution or undertake the pilgrimage. It matters not to this city. Go and make your choice. The man dies in the hour.”

…

The cells of the Princeps were more comfortable than the magistrate’s, if only a little larger. Stone walls and iron bars had become a familiar, tiring sight. Crixus sat quietly in the corner. I did not know what was going through his head, but he seemed as angry and somber as ever.

I paced as I usually did. Outside the cell, Berenice and Gereon stood. The soldier had been pleading with me to quit my promise to Crixus and depart for Calrathia. Berenice waited with her eyes cast down, never saying a word. To my surprise, she had not come here to beg me to depart from my honor.

Of Berenice, I have never met such a woman of her like before. She never questioned, never doubted, never tried to steer me away from the path I had chosen. She simply endured and remained steadfast by my side. And when I fell to tempting weakness, she was there to remind me why I had chosen the narrow way. I am convinced that there is no greater blessing in this world than to have known such a woman.

“This is madness! Don’t throw your life away like this!” Gereon always circled back to this same argument. “It proves nothing. You swore an oath to your School! And you’re throwing that away for a chance promise you made! You’ve done everything honor demands, and this man deserves punishment.” He nodded over to Crixus, who did not reply.

What honor demands. That was always how I viewed the world. Honor as a burden to uphold, a price to be paid. Would that a man delight in the sacrifices he must make for honor. Yet even this high standard seemed loathsomely short to me at this moment. To live your life only thinking of your honor is to still live selfishly.

As I continued glancing back at Crixus, I realized I could not leave this man to his fate. To abandon him would be to let him die as a criminal, not only in the eyes of Terminus but also himself. He would go to the grave cursing my name. Perhaps that I could live with, but he would also curse the Potentate for sending such a faithless friend, and how would I respond to such a cry of vengeance? Even if I was just and Crixus was wicked, I would’ve had an evil part to play on the man’s soul, and I couldn’t let that happen.

The ancients spoke of virtue as not only desiring the good in your own soul, but in the soul of every man who walked and breathed in this earthly world. I shall not flatter myself in this account. I admit fully I do not possess this virtue. As it was, all I could offer was my life for Crixus… and perhaps my friendship. But I wonder of the man who could look at every being, no matter how wretched, and see in that creature what the Potentate had intended. Such a man, I think, would be the mightiest to walk upon creation. And I believe only He, out of all the righteous men who have come and gone in the passing eons, could be called worthy.

“If my School so desired this quest, let them send another to take my place,” I told Gereon plainly. “As it stands, I have found the demanded death here. And don’t tempt me any further, or I shall sever our friendship.”

Gereon took a step back at my decided words, finally realizing that my choice had been made. He shook his head, but he conceded his bid. I breathed a sigh of relief. While I was growing frustrated with the man, I appreciated Gereon could at least understand a soldier’s death, in whatever roundabout way it occurred. It was not the end I wanted, but it was an end better than most.

Of course, I wanted to question Gereon about the bizarre events in the court. But those mysteries seemed trivial to waste my breath upon now. I would learn the truth anyway, after my death. Now was the time to prepare myself for my death.

I turned to Berenice and took out the manuscript. “It seems comical that I should hand this back to you after you went through all that you did. I apologize your sacrifices were in vain. I only ask that you keep this tome. Keep it safe should the day come for another to take the quest.”

Berenice looked at me with sad eyes. “Don’t make me take it from you, not yet,” she pleaded. “Not until your blood is spilt, and there is no hope. The manuscript is yours and yours alone. Only after I will take up the task.”

I smiled at her answer and put the manuscript back in my satchel. Berenice was indeed the rarest of women, hoping even where I could not. I am only sorry that her heartbreak had only led to all this.

I waited the rest of the time in silence, keeping watch with my friends, and I reflected on the bizarre path that took me here and the unlikeliest of encounters. I remembered Charon told me that death is a process of becoming. And while I quibble with his wording, I think he is ultimately correct in this assessment. Perhaps I would rather put it as thus: to live is to wait in anticipation of what blessing, what grace, the Potentate shall delight upon you next. And in this regard, looking around at Berenice and Gereon and even Crixus, I pleasantly found I was not left lacking.

The tread of metal footsteps signaled an end to the time we had been given. Five armored men rounded the corner and opened the cell door, bidding us to come forward. I went over to Crixus, still sitting in the corner, and offered him my hand. He looked at it hesitantly, but accepted it.

I pulled him up. “We shall go together then.” I smiled, trying to reassure him.

Crixus still had a look of disbelief on him. “You are a strange man, Sirius. Step away, you don’t deserve to die here.”

“Every man dies eventually. It’s all the same, really. It’s only a matter of when.”

The wretched man snorted. “I can understand dying for stubborn pride, but you are another kind, Sirius. I have no doubt, even if I tried to prevent you, that you would fight tooth and nail just for the honor of dying a criminal’s death.”

“I pray I would.” I nodded, humbled that he should say so.

Crixus extended his hand, and for the first time, I saw a look of genuine camaraderie on his face. “Together then?”

I shook his hand. “Togeth—”

The world was suddenly sent spinning. I felt my body land on the ground. It took me several seconds to realize that Crixus had punched me in the face. I came to my senses just in time to see him walk out of the cell and shut the door, locking it behind him. Crixus glanced at the guards, and even though they were armed, one look was all they needed to realize this man would not allow them to open the cell door again.

“What are you doing!?” I cried out to Crixus, stumbling to my feet.

“Saving an honorable man’s life.”

“You said together!” I angrily demanded of him. “What was that then? Did you lie!?”

Crixus shrugged. “It is not the worst thing I have done.”

I turned to the guards. “Let me out! I demand you let me die with this man!”

Another quick glance from Crixus dissuaded that thought. I could believe that the man would’ve fought to the death to keep the cell door shut, and the guards would have to account for the public losing their spectacle execution.

“They will come back for you once I am dead,” Crixus spoke. “I beg you, do not offer yourself later. Let this be my last deed, saving your life. I want that to be the last thing I do.” He stepped away and left with the guards.

“Crixus!” I yelled at him. “Crixus!”

He glanced back at me for a moment. “You wish to do right by me? Reach Calrathia! I shall go ahead and meet you there! Do not disappoint me!” He rounded the corner, and he was gone.

I slumped against the stone wall in shock. Again, I wondered at this change in the man that I had not foreseen. When was it, that he decided to make his choice? I am not certain, and it is still my profoundest regret that I never took the time to know the man.