Aster woke up with a pounding head. 

He found himself situated inside a tent, similar to the hut he had back in his family’s village. However, instead of prized trophies, armour and weapons hung in the walls – Verusian armour. A longsword was tucked in the side, still in its sheath.

Whoever put him here spared little thought whether he’d wake up angry or scared out of his wits. At the very least, he had the means to defend himself. Someone also took the time to bandage and put medicine over his slashes, with herbs that definitely did not grow in a barren land like Taratus. 

He tried sitting up, expecting bolts of pain lancing through his body. To his surprise, only dull, throbbing pain remained, as if everything was muted down to accommodate his exhaustion. An earthy, almost metallic taste also lingered at the roof of his mouth…and faint traces of honey? 

A used bowl and spoon sat next to his cot, smelling exactly the same. Perhaps someone had been feeding him as he slept? 

There was a faint rustling of clothes and footsteps, rapidly approaching. Aster immediately covered himself with the blanket, shut his eyes, and pretended to sleep. 

Where am I? 

What happened? 

Where’s Florence? 

Aster’s heart thundered in his chest as another presence shuffled in the room, flitting about and almost stumbling about in their rush. A small gust of wind caressed his face. 

Thump. 

More footsteps. The spoon and the bowl made a clanging sound. 

Thump. 

A scoff. “How tedious.” 

Thump. 

A cold hand against his forehead, seemingly feeling up his temperature. What the hell, Aster thought. It was then he decided to fuck it and make a grab for it. 

Olive-green eyes blinked at him in surprise. “Oh, you’re awake.” 

He looked around the room, just in case he missed another presence. The cold wind blew through the curtains, while shadows danced in the firelight. 

Still, no mop of blond hair came up behind the lieutenant. Aster immediately let go of the man’s sleeve – he didn’t even realise that he was still holding onto it. 

Sensing his distress, the lieutenant only sighed. “If you’re looking for Florence, he’s with the commander. He’s okay.” 

He’s okay. The confirmation washed over Aster like a healing balm, loosening his shoulders and allowing him to settle back into his cot. He should be concerned how the lieutenant knew exactly what he needed to hear, but then again, any man with common sense had enough reason to worry. Florence had, after all, decked the enemy commander in the face the last time Aster had seen him. 

“How long was I out?” He sat up, watching the lieutenant pour some strange concoction into Aster’s bowl. He even brought a pitcher of water. 

“Just a little over a day,” Lieutenant Marzio poured Aster a cup.  “You should’ve been out for about a week, but thankfully we still have our healer. You can thank them later, by the way.” 

Aster whistled. “So this is Verusian alternative medicine.” 

Lieutenant Marzio raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of it?” 

“Just some rumours here and there,”  Aster hummed. He flexed his injured arm and found greater appreciation to the dull ache – the healer must’ve gone above and beyond by unravelling the knots in his muscle while he slept away. 

He’d heard plenty about Verusian healers in the guild, and always fancied meeting one. But they were hard to come by thanks to the empire’s rather volatile reputation with the neighbouring countries, oscillating between favourable and downright hostile. 

The lieutenant’s eyes followed the small action. He sat next to Aster, despite the lack of invitation. “The healer also made some…strange remarks about your condition.” 

“What do you mean?” 

The lieutenant pushed the cup of water closer to Aster, a silent trade. Aster took the cup and downed it in one go. 

“Well?” He wiped the water dribbling down his chin. “Is it anything serious?” 

The lieutenant took the cup with a sweep of his hands, the action so graceful and light that it might’ve been mistaken for a courtesan’s welcome. “She wondered how in the world were you able to spar with the commander, with all the injuries you have.” 

Aster snickered. He hoped the commander heard that, and that he’d be plagued with the thought of fighting an injured man. Let him tremble at the thought of fighting Aster in his full health and capacity. 

“She also called you a dead man walking,” the lieutenant added, almost like an afterthought. “Cried about your soul being headless. Looked like she saw a ghost, really.” 

The lieutenant laughed a little at that – perhaps he was remembering something hilarious. But his laughter was lost in the ringing within Aster’s head, a sound akin to a death knell. A headless soul, the healer says. 

Of all the nonsense she had to spurt out, it just had to be the one closest to the truth. 

Against his will, despite being miles away from the chopping block, he found himself clenching his fists so hard that the nails dug the skin. He couldn’t close his eyes – not for this part – but he chewed on his lip, desperate not to cry out. Just until the blade hits, he promises himself. 

But that was a lifetime ago, and the execution had yet to come to pass. 

“Hey,” the lieutenant waved a hand over his face, bringing Aster back to reality. “Are you okay? You’ve gone really pale.” 

Aster swallowed, blinking away the vestiges of that cloudy, dreary day from his mind. He tried to form words, just to prove that his windpipe was still intact. 

“Should I call the healer?” The lieutenant asked. His face was finally beginning to show genuine concern. 

Aster shook his head vehemently. 

“Right, I forgot you’re still recovering.” The lieutenant smacked his own forehead. “I just–I wanted to ask questions while I can, but that can wait—”

“...no,” Aster managed to choke out. Fucking finally. “I’ve got some questions too.” 

Lieutenant Marzio cocked his head to the side. “Not going to wait for your master, then?” 

Aster may have been suffering from a sudden onslaught of past memories (unprovoked, mind you), but he wasn’t too far gone to the point of perpetuating such an obvious lie. 

He gave the lieutenant a dirty look. 

“I don’t serve anyone,” he gritted out. That’s the one thing that will never change, regardless of whether or not Aster loses his head.  

Anything so long as he gets to keep his own heart. 

***

“I take it you and Florence…are close?” 

“I..we just work together. The General sent us here to scout for you. It was supposed to be just him…but I was there and the General thought he’d die on his own. So here I am.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense. You do know that Florence can fight, don’t you?” 

“If he can, he’s surely not showing any signs of it.” 

“Keeping his cards close to his chest, as always.”

“I highly doubt it.” 

“Thank you for bringing him here, anyway.” 

“I didn’t bring him to you. He came to you – against orders, mind you. He seemed really distressed to find you…with whatever you have going on.” 

“Oh, but you did bring him to me. This is what Percival wanted him to find.”  

“So he wanted him to find out about…your betrayal?” 

“He’s being given a choice.” 

“And what about me? Where do I fit in all of this?” 

“You?” The lieutenant repeated, a little taken aback. Then, he put a hand on his chin, seemingly taking the problem into great consideration. “Well, if I were being honest, Florence refused to decide until you woke up.” 

“Perhaps you can do us all a favour and encourage him. He’s told me about your, um, situation, you know. Percival wouldn’t kill your family. As a matter of fact, if you left him here right now, the General won’t even bat an eye. He’ll take it as an answer.”