“I don’t understand why you feel empathy towards a person like her. Then again, I’m not female so I wouldn’t understand,” Asashin remarked.
“I don’t think it’s a female thing,” Demetria responded, displeased by the comment. “Not all women care for each other, remember? Sometimes we tear each other down just as quickly as men kill each other out of jealousy.”
Asashin eyed Demetria, surprised by her bluntness, though he knew she meant no disrespect by the question. Nor did she push further; she knew he remembered.
He remembered better than anyone, Gothalia recalled but did not mention it, for she knew it was not her place. In that comment alone, Demetria had hinted at the Earth Reserve and their only princess, and silence followed the insinuation.
“I’m certain, Lieutenant Colonel Reagan-Valdis will expect us to respond should we need to.”
“For now, I’m told there’s peace in the Earth Reserve and no threats to our home from the surface world. So, there’s nothing to really worry about,” Gothalia added, not entirely believing her words.
“Right?” Demetria said. “And how long is the peace in New Eorthen supposed to last?”
“As long as it needs to.” Asashin interrupted.
His brown eyes peered at Demetria, filled with intellect and acuity which reflected his strong features, enough so it made Gothalia question how he worked. He was a man that could be difficult to read at times, but there were moments, Gothalia caught a glimmer of his personality—not that she would ever voice this aloud.
Demetria, on the other hand, could be read effortlessly, even when she assumed, she couldn’t.
“Then, we have to go and pick up the pieces again?” she probed, dejected. “Why can’t some people just not cause trouble.”
“Not everyone thinks like we do,” Asashin remarked and crossed his arms, peering down at Demetria, amused by the frustration wrinkling her features.
Grudgingly, she responded, “Don’t remind me.”
Gothalia regarded the light blue sky above. She often forgot it was artificial, especially, when she felt the fake heat of the rays on her skin, and the brief cool breeze that filtered throughout the compound, cooling the warm summer days and bringing with it a lingering, faint smell of dry soil and freshly mowed lawns.
“Let’s get going,” Asashin said. “Otherwise, we’ll be late.”
“For what?” Gothalia asked, confused. She crossed her arms and shifted her hips to lean against the railing.
“The tournament. They’ve announced new competitors.” He wandered past her with Demetria following.
“Why is it always violence that people enjoy? What I wouldn’t give for a good book,” Gothalia muttered despondently beneath her breath, before following her friends.
It did not take long for the Centurions of the Dragon Core unit to reach the Colosseo.
As they ventured closer to the amphitheatre, they heard the uproar of the crowd.
Below, and surrounded by onlookers, were men dressed in traditional Excelian armour, their swords drawn and shields steady. With deceased former competitors surrounding them, the two men squared off.
Gothalia was too aware of the fake deceased competitors to really care for the battle. Aware she knew, the moderators needed to list every fallen contender and all the injuries sustained. From Gothalia’s perspective there were one too many strikes on most of the bodies; she quickly concluded that the competitors were not too skilled.
“That’s too many cuts—he shouldn’t need that many to take down an opponent. It’s a waste of time and energy.” Demetria echoed beside Gothalia.
“Look at them. They’re going to collapse before they can even deliver the final blow,” Asashin declared, jerking his chin at the struggling, sturdy-built men—clearly less than impressed. “Sloppy.”
Gothalia did not respond.
A voice from beside the group, emanating from the furthest chair at the back, caught every Centurion’s attention:
“Betheous, is struggling. That is a surprise.” A middle-aged man stroked his salt-pepper beard. His brown eyes watched Betheous with scrutiny, as though he were about to reprimand a child.
“Heard he was drinking it up and whoring last night,” another man noted, from beside the older man.
“Serves him right I suppose,” the first man declared.
Gothalia, Demetria, and Asashin shared a knowing look before glancing at the timer in the centre of the arena.
Four minutes left until the end of the competition.
If either man did not fall before the timer ceased, the moderators were within their right to call a draw. Considering the time left, Gothalia knew they would not be given another chance to fight each other.
“I say Betheous will fall after two minutes,” Gothalia asserted, eyeing his rapid breathing and the hand that held his sword which trembled from overuse and excessive strain.
“I say, one,” Demetria announced. “I bet five silver stones.”
“You’re on. I say, he’ll fall within the next minute and a half,” Asashin added. “They don’t look like they can last much longer, to be honest.”
Gothalia’s laughter echoed as the crowd hushed at the intense competition. “Sounds like we have a wager.” She watched the men, entertained.
Demetria groaned, aggravated, when Betheous dropped to one knee after just a minute, before staggering to his feet once more. She muttered, “Why are you so stubborn?”—or—“Why didn’t you stay down?” The vigorous fight continued, much to Demetria’s palpable frustration.
The bodies that once limited their range of movement faded away. Eventually, Betheous fell, at two minutes and fifty-five seconds until countdown, making the other competitor victorious.
The spectators slowly departed, leaving the older man who had spoken of Betheous in loathing muttering a string of curses.
When Demetria and Asashin moved to flee the arena, they were stopped short by Gothalia, who cleared her throat and held out her hand.
“I believe I’m to be rewarded.” The sly expression that masked Gothalia’s face annoyed Demetria more than it bothered Asashin.
“Don’t get smart.” Demetria replied, handing over five silver stones, not meeting her gaze.
Gothalia held out her hand to Asashin who hesitated.
“You said at the two-minute mark.”
“No, I said after.”
Asashin glanced at Demetria.
“I won’t tell anyone if you slap her.”
Demetria folded her arms. “Oh, believe me. I’m considering it.” A wash of disgruntlement struck her features when Asashin relinquished his coins.
Gothalia tucked the coins away in her belt before walking ahead.
“Pleasure doing business with you both,” she called over her shoulder, not looking back at either of them, before heading to the debriefing room, pleased she’d make it on time.
Demetria and Asashin watched her leave.
“I could always take her out from behind and you snatch the money. Then we run for our lives,” Demetria offered.
Asashin’s contagious laugh echoed through the halls, catching the attention of nearby Centurions in the middle of their own early morning tasks. Then, enveloped Demetria in a playful embrace.
“Let’s just get to work, okay?” he said and released her. Asashin sauntered after Gothalia. While, Demetria huffed and silently followed, wondering if he knew she was serious.
When Demetria and Asashin arrived at the debriefing room, they discovered it was unexpectedly crowded with other Centurions of different ranks and from different areas across the Cetatea. They noticed Gothalia sat at the front corner seat with empty chairs beside her.
Taking their seats, she uttered,
“Took you guys long enough. What were you doing?”
“Planning on taking you down,” Asashin responded, casually. “Demetria’s idea.”
“Hey!” Demetria growled, glaring at Asashin. “Whose side are you on? I thought you wanted your money back too!”
Gothalia grinned at the statement.
“Demetria,” she sang with purposeful mockery, “If you want your money back so badly, you’re going to have to win it back.”
“I’m considering wiping that smug look off your face first. Anyway, you’ve always lost in the past, so what makes you think you won’t lose now?”
“Bring it but I assure you, unlike the previous times. I won’t hold back.” Gothalia threatened, holding Demetria’s equally dangerous glare. Demetria muttered,
“Yeah, right”.
“Do I have to sit between you two?” Asashin questioned sternly. Both Gothalia and Demetria did not comment, before Demetria murmured to Gothalia:
“This isn’t over.”
“Of course not. It’s just getting started.”
“Again, do I need to separate you two?” Asashin intervened. His brows narrowed at the presentation in front of them as he folded his arms, and neither woman noticed the rapid tapping of his finger against his elbow.
Demetria and Gothalia fell silent, and, with one final shared glare, they turned their attention to the front. Lieutenant Colonel Anaphora Reagan-Valdis stepped forward with Lieutenant Colonel L’Eiron Augustin-Valdis.
L’Eiron’s golden eyes lingered over the gathering of Excelian Centurions, his brown hair shimmered beneath the golden torches.
Gothalia was not surprised by their intimidating presence. Instead, she was intrigued by everyone’s whispers and astonishment. According to Demetria, it was rare to see two deadly Centurions in the same room at the Cetatea. Gothalia, on the other hand, had seen them together a little too often—not that she minded.
She had become accustomed to their need to chastise her for something she did or didn’t do. A lot of the time, she was simply confused as to why she was in trouble to begin with, especially when half of the time she had no idea what to do to avoid it.
“Newly found threats have transpired on the surface world.” Anaphora proclaimed, sharp as the edges of a newly-cut diamond. Her voice silenced any further muttering from the group. “As expected, the chances of Humans stumbling upon our existence increases.”
“Extra measures have been put in place to ensure the Alastorian numbers remain as they are—limited. Yet, intelligence suggests they are spread too thin throughout the world to cause much trouble on their own. In a group, they can take out hundreds. As Centurions of Dragon Core you are to undergo extensive training or missions to be prepared for this elevated high priority mission, as decreed by the Grand Elders.” Around her, Gothalia heard the other Centurions mumble in concern.
“I thought there were safeguards in place to prevent the increase in their numbers to begin with,” Demetria muttered to Gothalia.
“I know what you mean. She’s being pretty vague about this too,” Gothalia whispered back.
Asashin’s fingers stopped tapping and tightened around his elbow.
“Shh!” he scolded, glaring at Gothalia who couldn’t help but ask,
“What?” Then, she slumped in her seat and crossed her arms and her legs in discontent. Unaware, of Demetria smirking at her small victory.
A Centurion woman of the Centurion Ranger Squadron heard Asashin disciplining the Excelian women and regarded them for a moment before turning her attentiveness to Anaphora.
Both Gothalia and Demetria, returned their attention to the front, without another word, and listened attentively to the rest of the briefing.
Information about the Xzandians did not shock anyone in the room. However, it was when Anaphora informed the group that the Xzandian presence was proportional to the increase in Alastorian sightings—this caused everyone opposite the Triarius to collectively inhale or stare in stunned silence at her words.
It was news that frightened everyone in the room, regardless of how hard they tried to mask their anxiety.
They hadn’t expected it and as such, Gothalia knew that the threat of her home being discovered by the world above, would only grow, until her people would be thrown into the dark ages they feared most.
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