“I know every single soldier that was sent to fight off invaders. I know the families that died due to lack of aid in the plains of Aphos. I can map out every village that was burned down on the outskirts of Taratus, simply because you thought they weren’t part of the empire.
I know the dead just as much as I know the living, Your Highness. My list is long, but thankfully my patience is longer. You have a day to peacefully step down from power.
Consider this my generous gift. Be glad that you will still be remembered. If you refuse my offer, then I’ll be glad to add you to the list.”
-Letters of Emperor Dominique Sibylla to the late Emperor Narcisse Silvano; Records
Being able to share a meal with a living legend was a surreal experience.
For all Aster’s hatred and disillusionment of the empire, he did believe, to some degree, that the army had tried its best with what they had. Otherwise they wouldn’t have died in the line of duty. Being a hired killer himself, Aster understood what it meant to carry out orders, and to risk your life with it.
The General Ettore of the legends was infallible just as he was unwavering, and to see him now, clad in simple rags like everyone else and cooking some rations over a fire, it made him more human. A little less of a legend and more like an actual person that lived.
“I can’t apologise enough for how long we took to get here,” the General said. He skinned a ferret next to the fire, apparently caught during patrol. “We came here after catching wind of the caravan, and we hoped to get here before they burned another village.”
On a closer inspection, Aster recognized the knife that the General was using – it was the same one that he had given Aster in another life. It was almost hilarious how things unfolded almost exactly the same while heading for different paths.
“You wouldn’t have made it anyway,” Aster admitted. He was always meant to take matters into his own hands. Nothing felt as cathartic and exhilarating as finally being able to get back at those bandits. Sure, he had bigger fish to fry, but at the very least, the blood of his mother and sister wouldn’t be on his hands this time.
The General had no response to that. Instead, he only stuck the meat on the stick and began roasting it over the fire.
Aster felt compelled to fill the silence with: “Besides, it shouldn’t have been your duty, right? You were sent to fight the invaders.”
The General stoked the fire, causing some embers to fly out. The flames flickered rapidly.
“A soldier’s duty is to protect the people,” he replied, almost too soft for Aster to hear. “Even if it's from themselves.”
Aster scoffed at that. “No wonder they sent you out here. There’s no place in the capital for that kind of thinking.”
He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it was certainly not the General laughing at those words. The sound carried throughout the clearing, making some of the patrolling soldiers look towards them. Thankfully, none dared to join in.
“Florence said that exact same thing,” the General explained. “Why would they send their best fighters to the north? At first, I had no idea. But eventually, one would learn to read between the lines.”
Aster remembered the Fortress of Serberos – the cold, unforgiving dungeon that was his home for thirty years. The empire and its monarchy truly embodied the phrase, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ when it came to quelling criticism.
“I have a question,” Aster suddenly said.
The General stopped whatever he was doing. “Ask away.”
General Ettore was a coward. If he knew what was best for the empire, he shouldn’t have left the capital. The enemies were here, not outside. And yet he followed orders anyway, only to die. There could have been a future with no Emperor Sybilla. This shouldn’t have had to happen.
Those words had been spoken to Aster by the leader of the Resistance, a man that was just as elusive as the emperor himself. Rarely does the resistance employ services outside of their own, but at the time, the target was too high-profile and heavily guarded for any of the rebels to come close. They needed a third-party – someone whom the Resistance could take credit from but did not necessarily have crucial ties with. Someone who would not matter if they died in the process, but can still live with the consequences of assassinating the emperor, if they succeeded.
“Why did you agree to be here?” Aster asked. “We know you, even here on the outskirts. The people know your name more than they speak of the emperor himself.You could have rebelled, if you wanted to.”
At this, the General let out a dramatic gasp. “Talking about – or even implying – the concept of insurgency is punishable by death sentence, you know.”
“They obviously sent you here to die. Everyone here is condemned to die.” Aster said, driving his point home. “With or without a death sentence, we’re all headed there anyway. We just got lucky this time.”
“I’m not.”
Aster blinked. “Come again?”
“I’m not,” the General repeated. At this point, the ferret had cooked long enough for them to eat it. The smell wafted around Aster, and he did his best to avert his gaze from the meat and focus on the General instead.
The General noticed him eyeing the meat anyway, and wordlessly handed Aster a portion.
Who was Aster to say no to that? He accepted the meat with trembling fingers, not even bothering to hide his hunger anymore. Regardless of how he was fed during his time in prison, this younger body of his was gangly and had yet to know harsher conditions in life. He devoured his portion, much to the General’s quiet satisfaction.
“I can’t die,” the General continued, softer this time. Almost as if he was afraid others would hear. “The soldiers rely on me to get them home. Then there’s the common people, even if we can’t rescue them, they need the idea of soldiers. Someone that will fight for them.”
“Even if we can’t save them,” the General bit into his portion, “we have to try. Someone has to do it…which brings me to the matter we need your help with.”
Maybe it’s General’s words and earnestness that struck a chord in him, or perhaps it was this younger, more naive body of his – that he found himself sitting up straighter and listening attentively to the General’s words. He’d never had the pleasure of working with soldiers before, but there was something empowering about working for bigger causes, something that money couldn’t buy.
It reminded him a little of the leader of the resistance. That man surely had a way with words, but where the resistance focused on dismantling the system…this General had simple dreams. Quite a waste for a man of his stature, sure, but dreams, nonetheless.
“My lieutenant, Marzio, has gone missing,” the General whispered. “We sent him to spy at an enemy camp just a few miles north from here, but it’s been weeks and he hasn't returned since.”
Aster nodded. He was aware of the enemy camps lurking around the outskirts, but the general rule of thumb for them villagers was to never venture too far out, lest they run across the soldiers from other countries that are slowly creeping their way into Ambros. Even the bandits never touched those enemy camps, and Aster was lucky enough not to encounter them in his previous life.
“Which one was it? From Vera or Sanna?”
The General’s face turned grim. “I don’t think it’s necessary–”
“So it’s both,” Aster concluded. This made the General almost choke on his food. “How did you–”
“I live here. Word makes its way around, bits of rumours here and there,” Aster lied. In the past, the empire was only able to unravel the collusion of both neighbouring countries against them during the rule of Emperor Sybilla, who squashed both countries underfoot. It was a game-changing piece of information that could’ve saved the empire’s forces from spreading itself too thin.
When it comes down to it, politics is a waiting game. His friend from across the cell had said. Whoever attacks first, loses. But whoever fights last, also loses. You don’t need wars to break to realise that there’s a fight going on.
“Please be careful with this piece of information,” the General warned Aster. “It’s too early to confirm this, but if word gets out to the public that we’re at war with not one, but two countries–”
“I thought we already are?”
“It’s thin ice,” the General corrected. “We don’t have the resources to fight anything or anyone. We can barely keep ourselves alive. If war breaks out, it’ll be in my hands. Which is why I need your help.”
Aster didn’t know whether to comfort the General or choke him. “You sent your lieutenant to spy, and you tell me there’s no war. Please make it make sense, General.”
The General put his palms over his face. “Why does it have to make sense to a commoner like you? All I need you to do is go and scout. We just need someone who isn’t part of the army and won’t die so easily.”
This commoner can kill you, Aster wanted to say.
But he couldn’t, at least, not with his family within danger. He had to remind himself that he had something to lose now, as opposed to his previously desolate life. Having someone that could be leveraged against you was a new feeling, but not one that he would trade for the world. He would rather have something holding him back than nothing at all.
Instead, he offered, “I can do more than just scout.”
This grabbed the General’s attention.
“I can bring back their heads for you,” he said, “but for a price. Would you be willing to make a deal?”
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