Crimson and Gold

Upon returning to his mansion, Praetor Sulla was in a terrible mood.

Not only was he not able to buy the daethri, but he also ended up being thoroughly humiliated by the Princess.

He paced angrily around his office, recalling every detail of their conversation, and the more he thought about it, the hotter burned the anger within him.

A knock at the door, followed by the voice of his servant girl, brought him back to reality. “My Lord, a message for you had just arrived.”

Sulla forced himself to recollect. “Bring it in,” he said, sitting behind his desk.

A young woman entered the room and walked over to him, carrying a simple white envelope. A few strands of her deep red hair escaped the simple braid and framed her gentle face.

The girl had a comforting air around her. From the moment she came into the room, Sulla’s mood felt much brighter.

Perhaps that’s why his composure wavered and his gaze dropped, lured by the supple curve of her frame, causing a different kind of heat to settle in his core.

Realizing this, he quickly retracted his gaze and cleared his throat.

“Leave it and go,” he ordered.

The woman placed the mail on the desk, but didn’t move. She nervously tugged at the fabric of her tunic.

“What is it?” Sulla asked, seeing that she didn’t move from the spot.

“Y-Your Lordship… there is something I need to talk to you about,” the girl stammered.

“Well then? Say whatever you must and leave. I’m busy.”

“Y-Yes,” she took a deep breath and cast her gaze down. “My Lord, I’ve served you for over five years. I never caused any problems. My family’s debt had long been paid off. Please, return my freedom to me like we agreed.”

“There is still some debt to be paid off. You were sick a while back, remember? Those healers weren’t cheap. I can’t let you go yet,” he declared, seemingly absorbed by the contents of the letter.

The girl tightened the grip on the hem of her tunic. “But… I got sick because you forced us to move those dangerous powders for a full month.”

Sulla’s head snapped up to look at her. Anger flickered in his eyes. “So this is my fault now? Maybe I should be the one paying you for being sick, too?”

“No, of course not. But at least allow me to pay you back once I’m free.”

“And how are you planning on doing that? Where are you going to get money from?”

“Well,” the girl hesitated, “Once I’m married, we were planning to open a shop—”

“So this is what it’s about!” Sulla slammed his fist on the desk. “You know, Illia, I was wondering what got into you so suddenly. After all, you were always so obedient, always knowing your place. Now it all makes sense!”

Sulla got up from the desk and approached the girl cowering before him. “You got indoctrinated by some mutt! You probably spread your legs in front of him, too!”

“It’s not like that! I just want to have a family…” Illia protested, tears welled in her brown eyes.

“Family!?” Sulla roared. “You ungrateful trash! I took you in, I provided for you. I gave you food and shelter even when your own blood gave you away. I am your family!

“Is this how you repay me?! By betraying me for some worthless scum?! Who is he!? Tell me this instant!”

“No, please! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

A vein pulsed on Praetor’s head as if it were about to pop from the sheer rage that had overtaken him.

He swung his arm and slapped the girl with so much strength that it made her stumble backwards.

“You disgust me,” he spat. “Guard!”

A man wearing simple leather armor entered the room almost instantly. “You called, My Lord?”

Sulla wiped his hand with a towel hung on the basin in the corner of the room and took his place behind the desk once more.

“Take this trash and dispose of her,” he ordered, focusing his attention on the letter once again.

Illia’s eyes opened wide in shock, unable to believe what she just heard.

In all of the scenarios she ran through in her head before deciding to talk to Sulla, she never expected things to take such a dramatic turn.

The guard looked at the girl clutching her swollen cheek, then snapped his eyes back to an unnervingly calm Sulla.

“But… My Lord…”

“But what? Do you want to join her, or do you prefer I send your mother with her?” Sulla’s words cut through the air like a blade made of ice.

The guard straightened his back and clenched his jaw.

“As you wish, My Lord,” he said, dragging the protesting woman out of the office.

“Please… you don’t have to do this,” Illia pleaded.

They left the mansion quite some time ago. The city behind them was basking in the orange glow of the setting sun far in the distance.

Illia had her hands and legs tied, thrown onto the cart attached to the guard’s horse.

At first, she immediately tried to free herself and run away, but soon she realized that without something to cut through the rope, her efforts were futile.

Without much choice, she turned to the one last thing she could try.

Begging for mercy.

The guard, however, didn’t say a word this whole time, focused on the road ahead.

She didn’t know him very well, as he started working in the villa not long ago. She remembered that from the little interactions she had with him, he was very polite and nice to her and the other servants.

That encouraged her to try once more.

“Your name is Hector, isn’t it?” she asked, searching her memory for anything she knew about him. “I remember you said once that your mother is sick and needs constant treatment. Is this why you’re doing this?”

“Shut up.”

“If it is, then please. Just let me go. Nobody will know. I will run and never go back to Aervelis. I won’t endanger you or your mother.”

“Shut up!” Hector yelled, gripping the hilt of his sword.

Illia fell back to the cart, sobbing quietly as the reality of her circumstances started slowly sinking in.

An hour later, they reached a small forest growing at the fringes of the province in spite of the drought that bothered these lands.

A thought crossed Illia’s head. A ridiculous, absurd thought that at least her final resting place looks nice.

She didn’t want to be buried in some ditch in the middle of nowhere. She was already denied a proper passage to the afterlife, she didn’t want her bones to spend the rest of eternity alone and forgotten.

At least here, her remains would have company, surrounded by trees and nature.

Thinking this way made her feel somewhat grateful to Hector for choosing a place like this for her.

The forest wasn’t big, but Illia still lost track of how long they were walking. They trailed off the path some time ago and started making their way through the bushes.

“Stop. And turn around,” she heard Hector’s command, followed by the sound of a sword being unsheathed.

Tears fell down her cheeks, but Illia smiled against them as she turned around.

“It’s nice here,” she said softly, looking into his amber eyes.

There was a hint of acceptance in her voice. It was no longer laced with defiance and desire to live, replaced completely with resignation. “Thank you.”

Hector gripped the sword in his shaking hand, desperately trying to regain control over his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, raising the blade.

The final tear fell from Illia’s eyes, catching the reflection of the falling steel.

Hector came back to the villa shortly after midnight, but to his surprise, Decimus Sulla was still sitting in his office. Just as he did when they were leaving.

“It has been done, my lord,” the guard reported.

Hearing his voice, Sulla snapped awake from his thoughts and looked at him with a dazed expression. “Good. Good,” he nodded.

A moment later, as if suddenly remembering something, he straightened himself in the chair. “Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, I want you to take a few men and go to the farmhouse and prepare a room there.

“Send the information to The Doctor, too. He should start getting ready for the procedure again.”

Hector’s stomach twisted, realizing the hidden plan behind those words.

It wasn’t the first time he received orders like this. The memory of where they led was still fresh in his mind, making him sick to his core.

“Yes, my lord,” he forced through his clenched jaw. “Is there anything else?”

“One last thing,” Sulla said coldly, “Assign someone to follow that daethri. I want to know the second she’s alone.”