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The Milostiv
Chapter 162 - A Crestfallen Doctor

Chapter 162 - A Crestfallen Doctor

Greed makes me men irrational. It is through greed that many would lose their lives and make their people bitter about life. To run a country, to pick on politics, requires an ungodly amount of communication that made things impossible for everyone to just talk.

To change someone’s idea. You need to do it with the realization you can’t force them. There are other expensive ways, but it was too hard and too expensive to do.

It irked Milo how stubborn the people were and yet he found himself somewhat helpless. The state intends to ignore its people. Milo found out that despite being dressed like a republic, the republic itself was a dictatorship, and the Elben, who were rather controlling of the affairs of this republic, wanted this war for themselves.

It was because of this that Milo was inside a prison. It had been five weeks since they had detained him and his compatriots and charged them as individuals who were against the republic.

Strash, the man who had helped published their articles, was a decent man who refused to be taken in and they labeled him as a spy because they did not agree with his call for peace. They had caught this arrest with their eyes and the populace can’t be silence. An armed populace was a police populace, and arguments from better orators had somewhat kept them from being beheaded. Milo believed he could get out of this place unseen. Vanish like a ghost, but that would simply provoke them into thinking he was guilty of a crime he did not commit.

It was unacceptable for a practitioner of medicine to be in prison. But realizing that he’s a fool had somewhat made Milo be at peace of his foolishness. You cannot take righteousness out of a man’s heart. It is because of this righteousness that people like him lived in service to the people.

To lose many lives was simply something Milo would not allow. In this life on in the other, he had always believed that one must always pick the right side.

They had fed him gruel for the last five weeks. They shared water with him thrice a day and yet that wasn’t enough to break him. It was hilarious to Milo how they think it was easy to scare him. Even if they don’t feed him, he was used to the starvation and the constant dry throat. He had been in a wasteland far harsher than this, and his body was as resilient as an oak tree.

They dressed him in rags, and yet he did not mind and kept his silence. In fact, he somewhat welcomed the quiet of the cell. He had time to think and adjust, and reinforced his resolve.

Sitting cross-legged inside his cell. Milo could hear the distinct sound of footsteps coming from the corridor. Raising his head slightly, he saw the agent from the government eyeing him with quite an attitude. Behind him were the bodyguards, who were clearly here to intimidate him.

“Dr. Stiv. It seems you’re doing well.”

“It’s peaceful here.”

The agent got the bodyguards to get him out of his cell and forcibly made him stand up. Milo followed the agent and his bodyguards to one of the interrogation cell. On the way, Milo noticed that most of his compatriots were already gone and he was alone.

The room had a table and two chairs. The bodyguard sat behind him while the agent sat across from him.

“I believe you know what I want.”

Milo smiled. “If you know what you want, then surely you know what I want as well?”

The agent gestured. The bodyguard slammed Milo’s head on the surface table and kept it pressed.

“We aren’t asking nicely.”

Milo forced himself to sit straight. The bodyguard’s arm trembled as he tried to push Milo’s face down. “It’s a shame that a republic does this.”

Milo’s tone of voice showed his disappointment. The other bodyguard forced Milo’s head on the table and slammed it forcibly.

“Don’t kid yourself, doctor. You surely don’t think that this way.”

“I could break you and your bodyguard’s arms if I choose to. I can fix you back, then do it again and again. Sir, do you know why I choose not to?” he asked calmly. “Because I tend, not wound. If you refuse to look me in the eye and act civilize, then I will do my best to defend my life.”

The agent considered. He saw the trembling arm of his bodyguard and called them back. “Very well.”

“Thank you.” Milo raised his head and eyed the agent coldly with such a sincere look of disappointment. As if he was a parent looking at such a disappointment of a son. “A shame that you need to convince people through the act of violence. Is your oratory skills so lacking that you cannot articulate an argument as why seeking peace is impossible? Then again, you yourself, is merely an agent of the state. You cannot argue with anything other than what your masters told you.”

The agent smiled wearily. “I see that your side isn’t full of men with so fragile conviction. We have imprisoned you here for five weeks, Doctor. In that span, we have ‘convinced’ most of your compatriots to stand and they have returned to their normal lives. I do not understand it. You know the powers of the republic. We have the vitae, the flying machines, and the firearms to suppress the kingdoms and empires. We have the Elven at our side.”

Milo shook his head. “You see them as a whole, not as an individual. You think you are dealing with one entity when, truthfully, you’re dealing with multiple innocent lives. Military-wise, we can win, but we’ll lose our souls.”

“All I hear is a coward’s speak.”

“I could say the same. You’re all so strong yet you can’t even fathom to speak with those who you think ‘weaker’ than you. Just like your act here, you intimidate me in hopes you can make me understand. My friend, a bigger weapon does not make you strong, it only signifies your weakness. The powerful shows mercy and compassion because even if those who they show do not, they can take it. The republic is powerful and strong, but it seems it is too afraid to even dare talk. I am disappointed by all of this.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves. You’re here for a bigger bribe,” the agent said. “Tell me your price already and spare me your preaching, Doctor.”

“Air just passes through your head, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“See? Only air comes in and out of your ears. Don’t assume, Sir. It makes you look weak and pathetic. Be better than this. Then again, judging by your reaction, it seems my comrades had their prices.”

The agent crossed his arms and then exhaled. “You are a stubborn man, Doctor. Nothing you do here will change. You will rot here if you do not compromise.”

“Then rot me here,” Milo said. “I have no problems not compromising my ideals for a few bits of gold.”

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“What a useless resolve,” said the agent. “I admire your tenacity, Doctor. But your idealism is something we can’t have as of the moment. Suspected of going against the state, we charge you guilty of all charges and you shall spend five years in your cell. Your license will revoke, and we shall give you five years to correct your ways.”

“I am so sorry for you… and this government.” Milo shook his head.

The agent looked Milo in the eyes. “You are an idiot, Doctor. A fool.”

“Well, I can’t help it. It seems I can’t fix that foolishness of mine, no matter what.”

They took Milo back to his cell. They gave him his journal back and, judging by how they left notes in the journal, they tried to understand the language he was writing on but came empty-handed. Seeing that this prison was going to be his home for the next five years. He accepted his fate and scolded himself for being a fool.

But it was better to be a fool than become a fool who’d abandoned himself.

I shall spend five years in this prison, he wrote. Five years because I couldn’t bend my ideals. I will waste five years of my time here because I cannot compromise. See, death has taught me a lot of things, and even if no one knows. I liked to tell myself a good story. A story that I wouldn’t be ashamed to tell myself. If I meet friends in the past, I’d like to tell that I did not compromise again. That I refused to crush my own ideals. To be bought again. One would call it foolish, but to sell your soul for a price was something I could never do again. They will not understand. I doubt they will. Perhaps they will see me as just another fool who was too stupid. But if that’s how it is. Then let it be so. Besides, having two lives has made it easy for me to choose this path. If there’s something that will bother me. It’s going to be about how I will make the parish worry.

Milo raised his head and tapped his journal. He made his bed and sat cross-legged in quiet meditation. Threatening him with time did not scare him.

He had lived two lives. He had a lot of time to spare, and being able to live this long was already a blessing. To sell his ideals was beneath him.

***

Milo’s time in prison was simple. In the morning, he would exercise and use the bars to push himself up and do push-ups, squats, and exercises. They only fed him gruel, and if they were nicer. They’d bring him bread and fresher water. By afternoon, Milo would devote himself to laying his thoughts down, putting his feelings into writing.

They fed me bread today alongside gruel. My conversation with the guard told me they were ignorant of why I was in here. Others say I was a traitor of the state and I would correct them. I am amiable with the guards, and they only are here to earn a salary for their family.

His days passed easily. There are days where rainwater would flood his cell and nights where it was so cold he had to rely on sheer willpower. The rain and the cold were endearing. It reminded him of his days in the wasteland and the days he had to spend in the cold while watching the horizon for any attack.

If there were any complaints that I have here. I cannot see the star, nor the skies. But they are clear inside of me. I can recall the stars that I saw while traveling and the stars of the past. I still remember climbing the three brothers peak. How lovely it was to see. Climbing the peaks, passing through that wall of clouds, and there I saw the stars with a friend. I remember it clearly, even in this life.

And times where he reviewed what he could have done better.

Our biggest mistake was to assume that’d allow us to speak freely. Our mistake was to think they’d allow us free speech, but we did well in not resisting and spill blood. It would give them reason to persecute us, not that it mattered since they had charged me guilty, anyway. I pray they are well. The guards told me that the war has formally started, and many men were being conscripted to fight. Truthfully, it broke my heart, but alas, I was at peace, knowing that I would not be part of of their wars and spill blood. We lacked conviction, power, and influence.

More time passed and Milo could hear the worry in the voice of the guards. Because he was the only prisoner who had enough wit to speak with them. They would tell Milo their worries and what they fear.

No matter what the world is. History somewhat imitates itself. The guards tell me how awful the fight has been in the front lines. Trenches, artillery, and machine guns have led to the death of many young men. As I feared, they could not tell what was coming and made a mistake that their Vitae would be enough. It reminded me of a great war back in my past life, the first world war that showed how dangerous the world had become. In their arrogance, they did not see, and as much as I like to say ‘I told you so’ on their faces. I can only mourn those who have died.

Milo heard stories and even the guards that were guarding him changed as they threw them to the front line. Replacing them with older guards with biobotanical limbs.

“Thing are bad,” said the guard who choose to speak without of boredom. “The battle seems to be harsh. Harsher than the battles we’ve fought in the past. Even with our Vitae, they simply burned them with flamethrowers, and gunfire simply killed even the Elven. There are rumors that many of the Silence thrown into the fray, but most of them died of gas and many died. We’ve underestimated these kingdoms and I hear that, although there are changes in their regime. The war would continue on.”

The guard had sent his children to war. Five of them returned in urns and coffins, and the sixth child, barely sixteen, returned without a proper mind.

“We shouldn’t have gotten involved,” the guard said. “But if we haven’t got ourselves involved, things would have become more brutal.”

Milo had no words to say to that. Boasting he was right did not sit well with him now, and he found himself guilty for not being in there to help tend to the wounded. Despite what they did to him. It was also a blessing since they couldn’t send him to war, and from the looks of it. They probably don’t remember that they threw him into prison.

I cannot find delight because my stubbornness had led me into not being part of this war. If I was a spiteful, perhaps I would gloat. But all I feel is the ache in my chest. I could be out there. Stitching wounds instead of rotting away in this cell, unable to do anything.

Food became scarce and even the gruel he ate tasted like sawdust. The water was sparse and, in some days, there was no one who’d brought him food. He felt weak, but somehow he could endure through the hardship, knowing out there, people had it worse. Milo couldn’t complain. He did not have the guts to say that he was not alright when he’s inside a fortified cell and out of the war. Free from the fighting and the chaos of war.

They dropped bombs on the city. Milo could smell the burning wood, and even deep in this cell, the chaos outside.

I write this as they bomb the city. They say that time and isolation leaves the mind to regret, but time has given me only sorrow for I could not be there to help. What is the use of stubbornness when lives in danger? I don’t see myself as someone important, but simply a man who wishes to help. It does not bother me if I perish within the sands of time, as this world is mine to see and hear. But it bothers me. I cannot do the work I had hoped to do in this. What is the use of a doctor without a patient?

He did not know what was happening. And even the guards became a blur as they replace them. To them, he was just a prisoner. They bring him food and then left him alone. He could hear some news and talk about how things were. It was a sad state of affairs and the state of their city rather depressed the guards.

To Milo, who had forgotten about the time and date. He had somewhat remained in shape because of his constant training. Although he ate little, causing him to lose most of his fat, and giving him a lanky appearance, and yet he remained firm and imposing. His dedication to his training while inside his cell had staved off the boredom. Because of the assault on the city, the bombs being dropped from the planes. It had become so awful sometimes that the guard bring their family to the safety and fortification of the prison to keep their families safe.

So he had time to speak with their family and listen. He’d tell their children stories to calm them down and, in exchange, they’d tell him what was happening.

But after a while, the guards spoke that there was an armistice being planned. It took eight months for this ‘armistice’ to be signed and Milo got food from the guards, who were drunk and happy enough to share this with him.

After that festive occasion, things went back to normal. Milo kept on waking up every day, doing his routine, and sleeping for the night. Recalling memories with his keen mind, and drowning himself in nostalgia.

He also dreamt of a man in the middle of a sea. He saw many things in said dreams and felt so unreal that he wondered if this was the memory of the body he had inhibited?

An endless sea and a giant tree that somewhat resembled the tree in Perlshaw.

Milo treated these dreams well and although five years have passed ever since, they placed him in a cell. They showed no sign of releasing them. Perhaps they had lied to him, and they were so petty that they’d let him rot in here until he had grown old and weary.

This republic disappointed Milo again.