CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
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Warren Ketson
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2nd of Janus, 936 PC
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Warren had a tendency to wake up earlier than necessary. Pa did, so he did too. His brothers and sisters sure didn’t though. For years he’d been creeping around quietly, trying not to wake up the world around him. To him, too much sleep meant the world would sneak by him instead, and that’s not how pa thought life should be lived so he didn’t either. Walking downstairs and out to the barn without a peep was nothing, he could do in his sleep if he ever slept. Walking down a narrow aisle between two rows of cots filled with grouchy Lotus made his palms sweat. But he did it every evening. Two hours before his night shift. Two hours after he’d studied the Lotus handbook and read The Book of The Creator under the cozy blankets his mama had sent with him. Bless her heart.
As always, he closed the door to the barracks as delicately as possible. Courtesy was crucial to making friends out of strangers. Not too many strangers left though with all the hard work he’d put into meeting the other recruits.
He looked at the snow-covered training field and all the signs of yesterday’s simulated combat as he crossed the lawn to the main building. He died yesterday. On purpose. Let some of the other Lotus impress the officers. Friends out of strangers, you see. Besides, he’d passed his tests with soaring success, no reason to sully anyone else’s chances.
He was a Lotus now, a real one with a real income and a real uniform. He couldn’t be happier to know he’d have plenty of Leos to take home to his mama in a few months. She’d struggle until then but he’d worked it all out, scheduled his leave so he could swoop in and be her hero a few days before she lost the farm. He couldn’t wait to see her smile, hold her tight.
“Evenin’ Nevia!” he said to the guard at the main door. Nevia always reminded him of his brother, Carl, with her short hair like a fella. Her face was softer than his but it was always scowling the same way. Not a bit of truth to it though. Nevia was a sweetheart once you got to know her. He pointed at the hint of a runny nose on her upper lip. Tactfully, of course. “How was your day?”
“Trained for weeks to hold a door for six hours,” she said. “How do you think I’m doing?” Nevia was never the brightest star on his way to the dining hall, but he’d never been one to let someone else's sour mood affect his own.
He handed her the first of four sweets he would deliver on his evening trek. “Well, you’re doing a splendid job!” She held the door behind her back for him to enter.
“Enjoy your night, Warren.” Nevia was always done with the conversation before him.
Now, Warren grew up on a farm where everything was made of wood if it could be so everything had that same grainy look and color to it. To see the halls of the university, with their expert stonework and breath-taking colors, it was like nothing he’d ever seen before. He’d spent the first few days here wondering how they got the ceilings so high while he walked around counting all the torches that lined the walls. He gave up on that task after he’d lost count around two hundred. Yes, working in the university was a treat for Warren. It was much easier than the farm work he’d done all his life. Much better pay too. Of course, that’s probably because Lotus didn’t have the longest life expectancy. That part had scared him but sometimes people do what’s best for someone else. That’s what pa always said and that’s what pa always did so Warren lived like that too.
The smell of chicken made him smile as he turned the last corner before the dining hall. Open tonight. He enjoyed it when the enormous doors to the dining hall were open. The hall felt stuffy when they were closed and smelled like dust. Not his thing. Not at all.
A thin fella, built like Betsy, Warren’s sister, but a whole lot stronger, stood in front of the door to the dining hall. He knew exactly how strong this fella was after getting into it a few times during training. Course, he wasn’t stronger than Warren but Warren didn’t like to brag. “Anton.”
“Warren.”
The fighting got him and Anton off on the wrong foot in the early days of training. Didn’t help that they were the top two in the class either. They were constantly vying for the approval of their superiors. A bloody lip here, a black eye there. It happened to others in training but it happened a lot for them. Eventually, Warren let Anton beat him in a few exercises. He wasn’t there to be the best but it did come to him easily because of his commitment to doing things the right way. A rarity in the Lotus Army, he had to say. Though, he’d never say it out loud.
“Here ya go,” Warren said and handed him one of his sweets. The daily sweet had helped ease the tension between the two well enough that they could be cordial. If he wasn’t mistaken there might even be a friendship blossoming. He sure hoped there was.
Anton tucked the sweet into his pocket. “Thanks, Warren. Chicken tonight. Smells mighty good.” He’d certainly never find himself feeling jealous of Anton’s post by the dining hall. Six hours of smelling delicious food. He’d be twenty pounds heavier with desire alone.
“I’ll bring you a piece of bread when I leave,” he said with a smile and wandered on into the empty hall. No one would show up for another hour, at least. He swung by the kitchen window and slid his third sweet to a little lady named Sally. She smiled and blew him a motherly kiss. It was likely the cooks would give him his meal early, they liked him quite a bit after all, but that didn’t feel right to him. The rules were clear; dinner time for his shift started after the sun went down. He’d read it in the manual himself. He read all the rules, knew them all too, right down to the finest details of the silliest things. Breaking any of them would feel like a sin in his book. That’s how pa had felt about rules so that’s how Warren felt too.
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He sat down at one of the empty tables and was met by the loneliness that always met him in the dining hall at this hour. No people. No pa. No mama. Now, Warren always tried to keep his sadness balled up and hidden like the knives he’d made with pa, knives scared mama, bless her heart, but when there weren’t any people around to distract him, his sadness got to him. Got to him good. Tore him up inside. He turned to The Creator in moments like these.
He put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers, letting his forehead rest on them.
He whispered, so if his voice got to quaking like it did sometimes, no one would hear. Not that anyone was around but it always felt better. “Your Magnificence. It’s me, Warren Ketson. I’m in the dining hall again. I sure hope you don’t get to thinking I’m belittling this by not going to the temple. Can’t leave the campus right now. Whole army is worked up over a group of Purists moving all around the empire. I know you went through a lot of trouble to make them magical folk but they don’t seem to respect what you did for them one bit. I’ll tell you though. I’d rather not hurt any of them if I can avoid it. If you could help me with that, I sure would appreciate it.” He paused, used his knuckle to wipe away some wetness in the corner of his eye. “And… uh. If it ain’t too much to ask, could you say hi to pa for me? He’s… um… up there with ya and it’s been-” He stopped and took a breath. “It’s been hard without him.” He stopped again and took another breath. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you again for giving me this opportunity. The Lotus Army has been a lifesaver. Thank you for all you did for us. In your name, I live. So be it.”
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Dinner was as delicious as he’d expected. He strolled out of the dining hall feeling like a king, handing a piece of bread to Anton with a smile that he was all but certain would turn a rival into a friend. “See you tomorrow, Anton!” He whistled a song he knew the other man enjoyed as he walked away.
The fourth sweet was given to the man he replaced at his post each evening. Durrig von Delheim. Not the friendliest name but there wasn’t a single one that could fit his personality better. A ball of nerves always grew in Warren’s throat when he approached the older Lotus. Surviving their encounter always felt like a game of chance. He told himself Durrig just didn’t think a newly crowned Lotus was deserving of such an important post but it sure seemed like he just didn’t like Warren. That was a tough pill to swallow.
He took a deep breath and turned the corner. The emptiness in the hallway ended his game of chance before it ever got started. “Durrig,” he whispered, looking up and down the corridors around him. Nothing but dancing flames in the torches and the eerie echoes of feet in other parts of the building. The small ball of nerves was a boulder now, suffocating him with frightful confusion. Durrig never left his post for anything.
He moved extra quietly toward the archway that stood at the top of the spiral staircase. His hand ran along the bumpy stones as he peeked down the stairs. He’d been down there once, he’d needed to prove to himself he could do it, but he wasn’t going down there right now. “Durrig.” His voice was so quiet it couldn’t possibly make it to the bottom of the stairs. The second try wasn’t much better.
Then he heard footsteps. Heavy ones that weren’t meant to be hidden. Relief.
He stepped away from the wall and prepared to hand the big man his sweet.
A man did appear. Two of them, in fact. Both were dressed in Lotus uniforms that didn’t quite fit. Worst of all, neither were Durrig, though the bigger one was every bit as scary. He had short hair and stubble that wasn’t anywhere near as neat as it was supposed to be. The scar on the left side of his chin couldn’t have come from anything fun. He had an air of deadly confidence about him. The other fella was suave and handsome. Kind of reminded Warren of himself with the brown hair but Warren’s was much less messy and a wee bit shorter. This one’s hands were tucked deep in his pockets in a way that made him look how Warren felt when he’d talk to women he fancied.
“H-Hello,” Warren said. The scary man didn’t speak even though the smaller one seemed to think he would. “Have you seen Durrig?”
“Who?” the scary one said.
Warren swallowed hard. “Uh. The guard here.”
The scary one pointed down the stairs. “He’s down there.” The way the man said it didn’t help ease Warren’s nerves at all.
“Oh.” Warren extended his hand. “Would you like a sweet?” He offered it to the big one just to be safe and apologized to the smaller one just to be polite.
The man took the candy and examined it. He unwrapped it clumsily with his thick fingers. “What flavor?”
“Caramel,” Warren said.
“Thanks.”
Warren didn’t move as the strangers passed him. If either of them were an officer, we would have saluted each other but if they were simply soldiers, they wouldn’t have been downstairs. He scrunched his face, knowing he had to do something.
He turned. “Wait.” The strangers paused, backs to him. “Your pin. It’s too low on your chest.” A lie. A test.
When the scary man turned he was smiling. The handsome one wasn’t.
“Is it?” the scary one said, walking back toward him. “I just got it. Wasn’t sure where t’put it.”
“Congratulations,” Warren said, thinkin the fella might be slicker than a wet noodle.
“Thank ya. Would ya mind showing me where it goes?”
“Course not,” Warren said, reaching for the man’s chest with every intention of stunning him rather than harming him. He’d been mastering the technique for weeks. He had no doubt he could handle this. Unfortunately, no amount of training could have prepared him for the speed with which the stranger attacked him. He was on his back in a flash, pain shooting through his snapped arm. He would have screamed but a dry, calloused hand was crushing his windpipe. Fingernails dug into his skin. Possessed eyes glared at him. All he could think about was how scared he was. Then a blast of intense heat surged through his neck and everything went black.