The first assignment was special, she would have remembered it as a rite of passage and acceptance, something she would tell the younger Knights about in the future with a smile on her face and beer in her hand, discussing nostalgic memories with her fellow soldiers, her new family.
That was what brother Siardo had told her, but he had been short-sighted in the face of reality: young members of the Church were often relegated to the most thankless and inconvenient tasks. While the elders kept the good stuff, the jobs closest to the Capital for themselves, the new initiates were sent to distant places or to the slums in the undercity. They told them it was a trial by fire, an experience that would help them grow, but Liaria knew that it was all nonsense, excuses invented by lazy old bastards in order to protect their privileges.
Just recently one of her sisters, Nene, had been sent to the far borders of the Principality to solve some cases of damnation, and had never returned. They had grown up together in the monastery and, although they had often clashed, she had grown fond of her. Some members of the Inquisition were on her trail, but in all likelihood she had died in a ditch on the side of the road, perhaps attacked and killed by some marauder. A part of her hoped that she had gone into hiding instead, but knowing the idealistic maniac she was, it was hard to believe that.
The Marshall called for her attention with his croaking voice. That man was the laughing stock of all the young knights because of his appearance. He remembered a wrinkled old plum, with a long pointed nose and protruding, fleshy lips. He was terribly pale, to the point of looking sick, and his entire face was a mask of wrinkles, his head oily and almost completely devoid of hair. They called him “Beakshall”, “Olive Head” and other names that would have cost someone excommunication if they had reached the ears of the superiors.
His real name was Filliamo, but no one cared.
Marshall Filliamo's office was responsible for searching for Saints around the Principality and bringing them into the custody of the Church. It was he, or rather, his subordinates who had tracked down Elora years before. “Appointment day” was one of the strategies used by the Church to facilitate the search for Saints. Since many families and country priests, some out of naivety, others out of malice, constantly wrote to the Church claiming to have discovered a Saint, the appointment day system allowed them to discard most of the reports they received.
Saints were such as they were capable of perceiving the Archangel, even communicating with Him at a distance. Thanks to the observations made in the past and to those on Elora, the Church had noticed that during the appointment of Inquisitors and Knights, when the Archangel granted them His blessing, the Saints often had mystical experiences. Therefore the Church had adopted the strategy of bringing a certain number of cadets to the presence of the Archangel on specific days, chosen in a random and secret manner. The cadets themselves received the news the same morning to avoid leaks. That way, all the reports of Saints, all the "miracles" observed on a day of nomination were immediately more credible, while almost all the others could be safely dismissed as misinterpretations or scams.
Beakshall was sitting at his imposing desk, above a mezzanine in his office. Even though Liaria was standing and the Marshall was sitting, he was still looking down on her, a delicate and definitely unintentional choice of decor aimed at reminding her and the others of their place. The room smelled of smoke, the floor and walls were covered with dark wooden lamination, everything was polished and lacquered. Hanging and framed on the walls were reports of successful operations conducted by the Marshall, recommendations, letters of appreciation... Olive Head never missed an opportunity to remind his subordinates of his importance. As much as she hated it, Liaria was forced to admit that His had been an impressive career and, reading some of those documents, she had learned that Filliamo had even served on the borders, fighting alongside the Prince.
The Marshall cleared his throat and with a trembling hand grabbed one of the documents on his desk.
Liaria bit back a snort. She hated that office, she hadn't trained as a Knight to find herself chasing legends. However, her assignment had not been decided by her, but by her superiors, so it was up to her. Her exciting career would began in some remote country village, where probably a mother proud of how her six-month-old son had said his first word had begun to cry out that it was a miracle, or perhaps some peasant family reduced poverty by the drought had came up with the story of how their daughter had turned flint into gold at the mere touch.
Beakshall frowned. He pretended to ignore her and continued reading.
The Marshall picked up another sheet of paper and squinted to read.
Filliamo grumbled, annoyed. He read his file again, his hand shaking more and more.
The old man gritted his teeth, to her great pleasure, and continued reading.
Liaria shivered. She had gotten carried away, but the man’s threats were not empty. She didn't want to spend her days among the sick, waiting to die of contagion herself.
Liaria contained her anger. Being insulted didn't have any particular effect on her, since Beakshall’s opinion was meaningless in her eyes. What bothered her was what he had said about Nene: although she agreed that Nene was an idiot and a sucker, her disappearance was the result of decisions from higher ups. She had died because some Church bigwig had preferred to send her to a dangerous region rather than one of their protégés, recommendees or lovers. The same thing could have happened to her or any other young Knight or Inquisitor, all because of a corrupt system that feigned integrity only in front of the population and the Prince.
Filliamo scribbled on a piece of paper and held it out towards her. Liaria had to climb on stage to get it. She picked up the paper and read it quickly.
She got scolded once more, took her leave and left the office, into the cold and high stone corridors of the barracks. The vertical windows looked onto the internal garden and illuminated the building. The grey and gloomy autumn sky seemed in tune with her mood. The silence of the deserted rooms confirmed what the Marshall had just told her: she had been chosen only because there was no one else available.
She looked at the paper she had been given. She had no idea how useful the supplies listed could actually be to her, nor who the other two Knights entrusted to her command were. She had never travelled, had never left the monastery since she had been adopted by the Church. She would have done well to ask Siardo for help.
Liaria and Siardo were from the same village. They had both lost their families due to the epidemic, both had been welcomed by the Church. Siardo was six years older than her, and had been a prodigy among the cadets, so he had obtained the Archangel's blessing shortly after their arrival at the monastery. Since then he had moved to the barracks and they had only managed to see each other rarely, until then. Finally she was a Knight too, and could visit him whenever she wanted.
She crossed the garden. The trees were already losing their leaves and the few people who passed were already wearing coats suitable for winter. She, for her part, was shaking. New Knights were given the worst quarters, in the basement, the worst clothes, or rather what was left over in stocks, and the worst tools, weapons and armour too old to be worth repairing, barely usable. She was wearing a tunic, completely unsuitable for the temperature of that time of year. She would have given anything to get back the coat that Mother Superior had given her, but the rules stipulated that the Knights only wore white and gold, to distinguish themselves from the dark colours of the Inquisitors and cadets. The only positive note was that her tunic had a hood. She raised it on her head and quickened her pace towards the barracks tavern, where the do-nothings, or as the Marshall liked to call it, the "idle personnel" spent most of their time.
The tavern stood near the barracks gates, within the grey stone walls that protected the headquarters of the Knights of the Church. It could be reached via a narrow cobbled street that went beneath the buildings through arches. The path was dark, a cold wind always blew in those tunnels, and they smelled of drunkards' piss.
The noise from the main street that ran parallel to the back alley was still audible beyond the buildings that housed the Knights' quarters. She could hear the sounds of cart wheels and the shouts of civilians who were constantly coming and going from the barracks, to deliver food supplies or to go to work in their shops serving the Knights.
At the end of the street stood the tavern. It was an old warehouse made of stone, cubic in shape, which had been repurposed after the construction of the new, larger warehouse. Having been a military building, it was sadly bare and practical, barely having any openings that had been remodelled as windows. Liaria pushed open the heavy wooden door and was greeted by humid, hot air, the smell of sweat and the sound of laughter.
Inside, the tavern was very dark, lit by numerous candles even though it was afternoon. There were numerous round tables, almost all deserted, and a counter at the back set between two wooden pillars. The walls were covered with shelves loaded with barrels and demijohns. The barracks never lacked for anything, thanks to the high regard the Prince had for the Knights . Their efforts in his military campaigns had attracted his sympathies, unlike the Inquisition, which contributed little to the internal order of the Principality, and relegated its duties to the Knights as soon as it encountered anything even slightly out of the ordinary.
The innkeeper, a plump, middle-aged man with dark, messy hair, a funny handlebar moustache and a round, good-natured face, barely spared her a glance when he saw her enter, and immediately returned to reading a book he kept on the counter. In a secluded corner, sitting at a table, there were three Knights slightly older than her, drinking in silence from their mugs. In the centre of the room, however, Siardo and his companions, also all in their twenties, were raising their glasses and shouting loudly. There were five of them, but they made enough noise for an army.
Liaria was captivated by their discussion. In truth, ever since she was little, she had always wanted to participate in the social life of the Knights. She had visited the barracks several times in the past and witnessed similar scenes of camaraderie, dreaming of the day when she too would party with her fellow soldiers. Being actually there, however, she was feeling a little intimidated, since if she were to get involved in the conversation, she would have no anecdotes to tell and would probably be treated like a child due to her young age. Being fourteen in a world of twenty-year-olds and old derelicts was hard.
The man turned purple with anger, while the others burst out laughing and making fun of him, mocking him for having been put to his place by a newbie.
He handed her a chair. Siardo was a young man of tall stature and as big as a mountain. His naive expression betrayed his young age, now that his blond beard had grown thick. In the past Liaria had often teased him about his hair, but she had grown into a fine young man. He had angular and pronounced features, in stark contrast to the small and graceful nose, his eyes were black and bright and he had thick, straight blonde hair, very well cared for.
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They all burst out laughing. Liaria, unsure of what was happening, smiled to not stand out. Shortly afterwards, the innkeeper slammed a mug full of foamy beer in front of her. She had waited years and was finally able to drink with everyone else, instead of having Siardo give her a sip secretly during her rare visits. She brought the glass to her lips and drank contentedly.
Everyone started banging their fists on the table in rhythm. Liaria looked at them confused.
, someone explained, shouting above the chorus.
She obeyed and took a sip of beer. She began tapping her foot to the beat and continued drinking at the beginning of each verse. Soon her mug was empty and her head lighter.
She was overwhelmed by a river of applause, whistles and compliments. She smiled amusedly and gave them a dramatic bow. She sat back and pulled her hood down. She shook her head to restore volume to her curly head. After that, she noticed one of the boys who was staring at her and slammed her pint on the table in front of him.
The man grumbled and got up from the table, heading towards the counter. He seemed to be the laughing stock of the group, as they were mocking him even before Liaria arrived. She remembered the conversation she had partly overheard and, having finally entered their circle, she dared to ask.
Their rambling answers intrigued her even more. Siardo whispered in her ear pointing to the guy who had gone to the counter.
The boys laughed out loud. Liaria continued to stare at Ennio, giggling.
Siardio stood up, assumed a hunchbacked posture and began to slur like an old man.
<“Inquisitors are a bunch of spineless fuckers! Back in my days we threw stones at them and they ran to the Prioress to cry about it."
She pretended to think about it, but finally nodded. She continued conversing with the group until the second round of beer was finished. One of the boys offered to pay the bill and others began to leave for various commitments. Liaria held Siardo back, causing yet another avalanche of allusions, but shortly after she finally managed to be alone with him.
, she explained.
She showed him the documents she had received. Siardo read the paper carefully while stroking his beard.
Liaria looked towards the dark corner where two Knights were arguing with each other. The third who was with them was gone.
Siardo grabbed her arm and held her back. She feigned exasperation and peered into her empty mug.
Siardo got up from his chair and rested a hand on her shoulder.
Liaria stared at him, taken aback. Not knowing what to answer, she remained silent and the conversation became awkward. Until Siardo laughed.
After greeting Siardo, Liaria checked her purse. She had very little money with her, given to her by Mother Superior. The Knights received a biweekly pay, as well as a roof and food, so squandering those iron coins meant being without for more than ten days. She decided that it was still worth investing them to impress her new comrades: if she had made herself look good in their eyes, they would have been more keen to listen to her during the mission. If the mission had gone well, her career would have started great.
Convinced that it was worth it, she asked the innkeeper if her money was enough to buy three beers. The man replied no, but served her anyway, albeit grumbling, and accepted her coins.
Armed with three mugs, she headed to the table occupied by the twins. Obviously they looked a lot alike. Gemma had short hair, brown with a bowl cut, while Oros instead had it longer and wavy. Both had long, very thin faces, sharp features and hazel complexion. They had glacial blue eyes and a tiny, narrow nose. Besides their hair, the only thing that made it possible to distinguish their faces was the hint of a beard on Oros’, as well as his much more robust build than that of his sister, who, for some reason, was wearing armour despite being off duty.
The girl's head, Gemma, snapped towards her and looked her up and down. In contrast, her brother, Oros, slowly turned and smiled at her.
Liaria sat down without further hesitation and offered everyone a mug. She showed them the documents received from the Marshall. Oros hesitated to grab them, so Gemma snatched them from her hand and read them avidly.
Oros glared at her, then looked at his sister, who seemed enraged.
She stifled her embarrassment with a sip of beer. She had started off on the wrong foot, despite being warned that that woman had a reputation for being a bigot.
Gemma passed the paper to her brother, who read it in turn. Liaria continued to drink, noticing that not only was the tension between the three of them growing, but that the twins had also completely ignored her offer of beer.
The sister glared at him. She stood up and left the tavern at a brisk pace. Oros sighed and finally started drinking.
Oros' prediction was prophetic. Gemma returned after a few minutes, furious and frustrated, saying that not only had the Marshall told her to follow Liaria's orders, but he had also showered her with insults. Liaria laughed at her idiocy. She would have shown it to her. For a moment she thought about sending her alone to the quartermaster. It would have been quite the hard work carrying it all, and it would have taught Gemma not to underestimate her. However, she decided to stick to the original plan. She would have done well to take the assignment seriously, her position depended on it. Furthermore, she would have preferred to avoid Gemma as much as possible. She had only known her for a few minutes and already hated her, not to mention that her brother was certainly stronger, and would have been more useful as a porter.
After sending Gemma to the library, Liaria and Oros went to the warehouse. There they found the quartermaster, an old, weird, toothless woman, who welcomed them kindly and showed them where to find the necessary supplies. Liaria, following Siardo's advice, asked her for help regarding her clothing. The old lady, after having cursed the Marshall in truly creative fashion, gave her a woollen cloak. She explained that it was highly irregular and that if the Marshall had complained about it, she recommended to tell him to go to her and have the guts to face her personally.
The trio gathered in Liaria's room that evening, a small, dark, damp basement room below the refectory’s kitchens. The novices were practically abandoned to themselves, for no apparent reason, and as much as Liaria complained about it, the hostility she had encountered in those first days from her superiors made her burn with ambition. As Gemma unrolled the map on the floor, boring her with details about library return times, she saw not three unprepared young Knights, but the chance to show it to Olive Head, to become an officer and perhaps one day even outrank him.
They sat on her mat, facing the map, lit by the lanterns they had obtained from the quartermaster. There was nothing else in her room for the moment. It was just a sad, dark cube of stone, with a tiny barred window that made it look like a cell. It had probably been used as a cellar in the past, since it could only be reached through the kitchens, at the end of a narrow corridor. The old wooden door did not even have a latch.
Liaria wrapped herself in the woollen cloak. She rummaged through the small bag she had kept with her, into which she had put some of the supplies intended for the trip. The Marshall had given her very little, and she intended to use it as she saw fit. She took out a loaf of bread, blinded by hunger. Since leaving the monastery, she had been hungry every single day. The refectory distributed rations giving priority to the highest ranking members. For novices like her only leftovers remained. She split the bread and offered it to Oros, who refused with a gesture of his hand.
She stared at Gemma defiantly. The young woman was livid with anger, probably augmented by the fact that she was taking orders from a younger person, but she didn't persist. Liara bit into her loaf of bread and bent over the map.
Liaria's sharp questions made Gemma seethe. She avoided eye contact and answered through clenched teeth.
The twins exchanged a puzzled look. Liaria waited for them to ask questions. Meanwhile she took another bite of bread and chewed as loudly as possible.
She smiled. Finally she could explain to them the reason why she had been put in charge, without sounding too haughty.
, the boy asked.
Gemma crawled next to her with an unusually elated expression. Liaria was sure she didn't like her, but at that moment she seemed almost on the verge of kissing her.
She watched with satisfaction as Gemma's enthusiasm faded. It would have kept her on her toes a bit. Maybe she would tell her about Elora the next night, it would have been more fun that way.
The twins nodded. Liaria rolled up the map and gave it to Gemma.
Liaria shook her head. She should have expected that an aspiring Inquisitor would be an idealistic moron. However, Gemma seemed very reliable, and so did Oros. Maybe luck was smiling on her. It was her chance, an easy one, to get out of that cellar.
Having dismissed the twins, she lay down on her mat, wrapped in the woollen fleece, and tried to sleep, rather than spending the night fantasising about her promotion.
“Captain Liaria”, just the thought of how it sounded gave her a shiver of pleasure. Maybe one day she would be a Marshall. Maybe even a General in charge of an entire Regiment.