A 3.7k word third-person story from the perspective of Dame Caesennia as she uncovers the identity of Calvus’s killer in her sparring partner, who is distressed by the accidental revelation. Uses my characters in the place of the MC. Constructive critiques are welcome.
Written more seriously, as I’m more or less unable to write decent comedy. I’ll probably post this on AO3 when I inevitably make an account for that. Until then, enjoy.
The man was going to retreat—that’s what he always did. Caesennia had seen him do so every single time he was threatened. Whenever her wooden greataxe flew anywhere near him, his response was the same: to move himself backwards, away from the danger. Create space between them. He always did so with such practiced grace that it was clear the maneuver was no panic response—it was tactical, always performed with a cool head. With steps so light and surefooted, they barely even rustled the dry, yellowed grass of the plains. Yet the dodge always ended in him simply standing there, like something was missing from the formula, like he intended some other action, yet did not perform it.
Today, Caesennia was prepared to finally punish the cloaked young man for his repeated error. Enough was enough.
She performed once massive horizontal swing of her training axe—something completely unnecessary, given that it was nothing more than a feign. Without even bothering to wait and see if the man dodged back, she prepared her weapon once more. The air, completely still only moments before, spurred to life, slicing at the Dame’s face and hair akin to whirling blades of wind. The oaken axe wished to leave her hands, like Aeolus himself ordered it snatched from her grasp. She swung the weapon forth with every modicum of strength in her arms.
Sorry pal. She scoffed as a whirlwind flew from her training blade, tearing through the dirt before her. You either get bruised by me, or maimed by some-
Her eyes darted to the side, following the flowing grey cloak, and despite herself, Caesennia found herself grinning. What a surprise. Had he been waiting for her to overcommit in catching his supposed mistake? Trying to lull her into recognizing a false pattern? Or did he only happen to correct his mistake this once? Either way, the Dame’s counter had failed spectacularly.
Then, another gale crashed into Caesennia, as her trainee swung one of his wooden blades just perfectly. It felt almost electrical, cackling wildly so unlike Caesennia’s own sharp, yet directed aura. She had only a second to brace her armored arm against her face as the crescent struck. The blow left her reeling, one foot tripping over the other, before the centurion fell into the dirt. She lowered her raised arm, not even caring that a bruise was quickly making itself known on the forelimb and bicep.
“Damnatus sum ad Hades—you got me. Again.” She said breathily, before a laugh blew past her lips as she stood.
The young man exhaled. “Y-yeah, uh… sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”
“Per deos, do you apologize to everyone you fight?” She asked. “I’ll be fine.”
He adjusted the mask concealing his face. What had been his excuse for it? Illness? It had been pretty obvious to Caesennia he possessed no serious affliction, though the ruse had worked for keeping the other Ravenna guards for getting too close. Clearly he was some type of undesirable, to hide his face like so. The centurion herself didn’t particularly care who exactly the cloaked man was. She was a soldier, after all, not a detective—and her pay grade wasn’t high enough to warrant the effort. That said, she couldn’t help but make observations about him as they interacted and sparred. Most notably that he was a mage. A mage who pretended he possessed no magic. A mage who was evidently used to fighting with it.
What had prompted her to draw this conclusion? Several things. The way he always wanted to keep a distance, despite wielding shorter weapons than her. The way he always simply stood there at the end of a dodge, like he intended to fire off a blast of magic, but could not do so. The way his aura felt—bearing more resemblance to the mages of the legion than those without innate magic. Nevertheless, it wasn’t Caesennia’s place to judge, or to call him out and confirm her suspicions. No, better to let him just remain her training partner.
“Well, I’d say you’ve gotten the basics of aura control down.” She commented, rolling her shoulders. “Very good.”
Caesennia gazed skywards, noting the setting sun. The gates to Rubica would be closing at dusk, and Caesennia would rather not be locked out again. The last time she had done so, the mosquitoes had nearly eaten her alive. She turned towards the cloaked man. “Semel iterum?”
The man across from her nodded. “One more time, yes.”
They both took their positions across from one another, raising their dented wooden weapons once more.
“That crescent was nice, by the way.” The Dame offered casually. “I see you finally got your edge alignment down.”
She could see a flicker beneath the man’s mask as he blinked, lowering his wooden blades. “Oh, uh, thank yo-”
“Gotcha!” Caesennia shouted as she lunged. The attack was slow—intentionally so. She didn’t want to win due to such a cheap trick; the fact that it had worked was lesson enough.
The man reacted quickly. More so than his seemingly unprepared state would imply he could. He dodged aside, striking the Dame’s attack aside with his offhand blade, before jabbing at her exposed side with his other blade.
Twisting at the last second, Caesennia evaded the stab, before slamming the ground with her sparring weapon. She felt her aura explode outwards as the axe’s head connected with the ground, sending up a spray of dust and dirt. The man reeled right as she followed with a swift upwards swipe. It connected with the side of his face. With a bit more force than Caesennia intended. The man fell prone on his back, landing hard on the grass and dirt.
“Damnare est, ignosce! You okay?” She exclaimed, rushing up to her fallen training partner, mentally cursing herself for the excessive force. The axe in her hands flew to the ground several feet away.
The centurion stopped dead as she saw the trickle of blood on his face. His exposed face. She almost laughed—wild as her previous suspicions had been, they had been correct. He matched the description her commander had given her months ago: blond hair which refused to stick to his head, a complexion pale as the beach’s pearlescent sand, and eyes of the ocean’s blue. His cheekbones were rather prominent, which, combined with his nearly colorless skin, gave him a rather unhealthy look. Beforehand, she could claim ignorance on his identity. If anyone asked, she could pretend to be as shocked as they were that her sparring partner was none other than…
Caesennia inhaled sharply, glancing around their location to the upper wall closing off Rubica. Anyone standing on the wall wouldn’t be able to see either of them, not with the trees and the towering aqueduct in the way. After confirming that they were unseen, she plopped down with a sigh.
“… So ah…”
His eyes found hers once more, widening with horror as he realized his face was bare. He swiftly got to his feet, and Caesennia found herself sitting before an arcane circle of lightning. One which arched with nearly as much power as her fallen king’s blasts of Aether, the very ones which caused the earth to shake as they slammed into it. A terrible ache arose in her chest as the sheer radiant electricity threatened to force her heart to cease its beat. Every singular hair lining her body abruptly stood like a soldier called to attention. She no longer had to question how he and Cinders had killed Calvus: the magic circle before her screamed of a tempest’s wrath, its mere sparks consumed the nearby grass, not even leaving specks of ash in their wake.
She quickly raised both hands to show that she had dropped her axe, her heart surging like its continued existence relied on the fastest beat it could muster. “Ketch, I swear to you I intend no harm.”
Should she have used his name? Well, it was too late to take it back now.
Kaden’s eyes narrowed. He distanced himself from his sparring partner, swiftly scanning the plains around them, before letting out an exhale. “This was a mistake of mine.”
Caesennia couldn’t deny his statement—coming back to the country where one committed a regicide was beyond foolish. It was borderline suicidal. The only thing which had prevented him from either being killed or forced to kill was the mask which then laid somewhere in the dry grass. But of course, she was more interested in not meeting the same fate as her former king than lecturing the man for his reckless decision making. “For what it’s worth, you’re a good sparring partner. I know my words won’t mean much to you, but I swear by the name of Zeus that I will not mention this to a soul.”
The Dame glanced around for his mask, finding it on the grass, before holding it before herself. The lower left side of it was cracked, the very edge smudged with blood.
Kaden hesitated, before sighing. The menacing circle before him dissipated. He reached out a hand tentatively, before snatching the mask, stepping back, and placing it before his face once more.
“Amber won’t like that I’m leaving another loose end…” He muttered to himself.
Caesennia flinched. She didn’t like where this conversation was going.
The mage noticed anticipation seeping into the guardswoman’s eyes. “I didn’t come to Ravenna to take any further lives. Enough have died here already. More than that—I hold no malice to you, but…”
He shook his head in frustration, before fidgeting his hand, sparks of lightning dancing among his fingertips. The centurion could almost hear his thoughts racing. “Right, come with me.” He decided quickly, dropping his hands. “We’re heading to Tiberia. You deserve no harm, but I also can’t allow you to tell anyone of me before I depart the island.”
The only thing that alleviated the boredom of walking through the dunes, Caesennia noted, was the stress factor of doing so in front of the mage capable of killing both Argos and Calvus. That said, Kaden seemed even more anxious by the arrangement than she was. When Caesennia chanced a glance behind herself, she saw that his head remained on a swivel—not a rock or grain of sand remained unobserved by his eyes. He’d kept her walking maybe fifteen paces in front of him. Too far for her to dash to him before he could summon a blast of lightning. Or at least, so Caesennia assumed from her experience in watching the mages in the Bronze Legion practice.
“Why’d you come back, anyways?” She chanced, maintaining her pace.
“I wished to see how the kingdom fared. And I had hoped to visit those in Tiberia after the ransom. To see for myself if the conditions had improved there.”
Caesennia frowned. “I very much doubt that—I’m fully aware that Calvus’s promises to restore that town were nothing more than empty words. But given that the legion’s on edge, and the nobles of Ravenna are all scrambling for influence… it’s probably worse than ever there.”
“You’re right.” Kaden affirmed. “Everything’s only gotten worse; the farms’ supply primarily leads to Rubica and Rasna, and many are stocking up in panic. The inventory of the stores are dwindling. And talk of crime is commonplace.”
The centurion couldn’t deny that she held a disdain for the town of Tiberia. Several times in the past she had to cover shifts for the other centurions due to mishaps. Recently, she had started taking some of the shifts of Sir Gaius, who had been killed by one of the other attackers of Ravenna Castello. It was unnerving walking through that place after dark, even with other soldiers of the legion. The daytime wasn’t much better—in it she could see the resentment in the peoples’ eyes, the way they glared at the soldiers’ bronze plate and red cloaks. The manner in how they spoke in harsh whispers as the guards walked by. Caesennia was even sure that one encounter she’d had with them was moments away from turning into an ugly fight. They very clearly had no love for the rest of Ravenna.
Of course, the rest of Ravenna had no love for them either. No genuine love, anyways. Polite applause was given at Calvus’ announcement of aid, but Caesennia doubted that anyone truly did so because they held empathy for the souls in Tiberia. No, people clapped because it made them feel good and merciful. Like they were saying, ‘see, we do care about the unfortunate and downtrodden; and by caring about them, we’ve firmly established that we’re better than them’.
“… I must ask.” Caesennia said after a moment more of walking. “What brought you to kill our king and destroy Fort Talos?”
Kaden gave a shaky breath. “I never intended to cause harm to the soldiers in Talos—barring Argos, that is. I entered on Mor- on a friend’s discovery of the castle’s contents. Namely that he saw some members of the Order of Asier enter.”
The Order of Asier? The name didn’t strike any bells to Caesennia, but she had once seen Argos communicating with strange men clearly not from Ravenna. Ones which wore purple cloaks, and stopped their conversation when Caesennia entered to deliver her report. She hadn’t seen them since. I suppose it wouldn’t be unlikely if Ravenna had allies I was unaware of. All kingdoms and domains surely have dealings under the table.
“What could prompt such disdain from you, though? To go into a heavily guarded fortress like that, just for a few persons from this order?” Caesennia pried.
“… Justice.” Kaden growled, with an air of spite that led Caesennia to believe his motivation laid closer to vengeance than righteousness.
“Had this ‘Order’ wronged you?”
“Quite, and many others.” Kaden continued. “The more I’ve delved into it, the more blood I see on their hands. The mines beneath-” He choked for a moment, before regaining his composure. “Beneath Ravenna Castello—they’re a good example. Inside were both enemies of the crown and of the Order.”
The mines beneath the castle? Assuming Kaden was telling her no falsehoods, Caesennia was learning a lot. I’ll have to see that myself.
Another hour later, and the cracked, grey walls of Tiberia stood before the pair. The crude, cobbled streets beyond were barely illuminated. One of the soldiers on night watch offered Caesennia a salute—tapping the left of his breast with a closed fist—before bidding her safe travels through the town. He then turned his gaze to Kaden, eyeing the masked traveler suspiciously. Kaden, to his credit, wasted no time and immediately opted for conversation. In passable Latin, no less.
“Quid male, miles? Onustus per tot horas?”
The soldier immediately loosened, giving a chuckle. “Immo, Centurio meus maius mercedem ne offerebat.” He complained, patting his purse.
“Vae tibi pauper anima. Ravennae plus milites suos aestimare debet.” Kaden said, his voice laden with sympathy, before offering a smile to the soldier.
The soldier gave a nod. “Immo!” He turned to allow the pair to pass into the town. They walked on, approaching the docks. Once they were out of earshot, Caesennia gave a grumble.
“He was just trying to earn sympathy from you.” She said. “I’m the one managing his pay—he’s being given nearly double the normal wage. And he’s only working three hours more than the others.”
Kaden snorted, before stopping. Caesennia did the same.
“We’re close enough now.” He said. “Caesennia, I deeply apologize for dragging you out this far at night. I couldn’t take the risk of anyone sounding the alarm before I got off the island.”
She turned back towards him. “Nah, I get it. I mean, that’s a little inconsistent with the sheer stupidity of your decision to come back to Ravenna, but I can’t blame you for inconveniencing me like that. I would’ve done the same in your situation.”
Kaden sighed deeply, grasping his arms with his opposite hands. “I know. That’s been most of my life—getting myself deep into situations I should be too smart to seek out. I can’t help it though; I can’t stand to let anything remain uncorrected if it’s not already perfect. When a problem appears before me, I don’t consider whether it’s worth engaging in, not from the start. I go in to fix it. Sometimes without even asking whether it’s really a problem to begin with.”
The centurion tilted her head, trying for a smile. “Well, you’ll probably never be bored.”
He shook his head quietly. “I’d trade boredom for whatever… this is. This feeling of inadequacy. Like what I’ve done hasn’t even been enough, and that what I strive for will somehow fill that null.” His eyes broke from hers. “First, I just told myself that were I simply separated from the Order of Asier, I would be content. Then, maybe if I could contribute to their downfall. Eventually the idea devolved until I concluded that directly working to right every wrong in the War Seas would perhaps satisfy me.”
Caesennia bit her lip. “You… do realize that’s simply impossible, yes?”
Kaden gave a slow nod. “Of course it is, but I do not know what else I would allow for myself.”
The air around the rogue mage seemed to sweep inwards as he crouched, before he kicked off the ground in a burst, the propulsion sending him onto the run-down brick wall. Caesennia heard him dash off towards the coastal part of the town, leaving her alone, spare the cackle of crickets and gentle breeze above the town. She heard him land beyond the building in front of her, followed by light, rapid footsteps. And just like that, he was gone. With few other options, Caesennia started on her journey back to Rubica.
Almost an hour later, Caesennia made it back to the gates of Rubica, nearly sprinting the entire way. Somehow, she made it back right as the bronze portcullises we beginning to lower. Swiftly dashing inside, she gave a sigh of relief, before coming face-to face with a pair of grey eyes. Eyes off which light refracted in the most fascinating way, like the dance of flames—multicolored, prismatic flames. Eyes under which bags of deep purple hung, blemishing the otherwise regal face of General Julian. Such tiredness had not left him since he was forced to withdraw from the Ravenna Castello more than a month prior, and his overwhelming irritability caused most of the Bronze Legion wariness. It was as if one had instilled the fear of death into the man blessed with immortality, making his nights more restless than even those of Revon’s, who himself no longer stood quite as tall as he once did.
“Where have you been, centurion?” He inquired, his voice quiet and holding a terrifying edge.
Caesennia, having made up many a lie to get some extra free time in the past, quickly spouted an excuse. “There were rumors floating in Tiberia of what seemed to be a ship scouting around Ravenna.” She explained. “I went to the town to try and confirm the rumors, but they seem to have been made on false grounds. Someone probably just saw a hallucination from cursed mushroom consumption.”
Those grey eyes stared her down, their shimmer momentarily directed in a cold, studious glare. The centurion tried to control her nerves, tried to maintain an expression of bored disappointment. Doing so was difficult given that the man she faced was both the most powerful in the Bronze Sea and very, very sleep deprived. It took Kaden a circle of magic directed right at her to threaten Caesennia’s heart into nearly stopping; for Julian, nothing more than a glance was required.
Mercifully, Julian’s eyes broke from hers. “Right, well, keep an eye on the sea regardless. Keraxe or Thorne have undoubtedly heard of the happenings here by now. If you see a singular unfamiliar sail on the horizon, you are to report it.” He exhaled. “Anything else to report, soldier?”
Caesennia hesitated briefly. Sparring partner or not, Kaden was still an enemy of Ravenna. If Julian started tracking him now, he could catch him, without a doubt. Julian may even follow him to Nimbus and wipe out everyone involved in the attack on the Castello. Kaden had probably outrun those stationed at Ravenna—shoot, if the rumors of him clearing entire pirate ships were true, he may be able to out-fight any ship that caught him—but even he stood no chance against the likes Julian. Honor and my word are one thing, but doesn’t my duty to Ravenna exceed all? Besides, for all I know, Ketch was lying about the supposed mines and the whole Order of Asier. Despite herself, the centurion began to seriously consider the idea. It would be so simple, really: just whisper what she knew to Julian, who would fly away immediately. If anyone figured out she was sparring with him, she could just claim ignorance, or state that she was doing so to try and get information from him. Having sold him out in the end, what would it have mattered to anyone what her reasons for doing so were?
You have a duty to Ravenna. Caesennia reminded herself. And to those in the Bronze Legion who died in the attack. Especially to Marcus Gaius, Vel Bronze, Tertius Lurco, and all the others who perished directly to Amber Cinders tearing through Rubica. Was it truly right to let those involved in taking so many lives go? Even if they believed in altruistic ends—ends that Caesennia didn’t even know?
Actually, wait. Her thoughts were interrupted by a horrifying realization.
If I do this… I’ll probably be promoted, likely straight to General. The idea sent more shivers down the centurion’s spine than Julian’s presence ever could. As it turns out, there was something Caesennia put before all of Ravenna: her desire for leisure.
“Nothing, sir.” Caesennia affirmed. “Nothing but mosquitos, I’m afraid.”
Edit: added lines where I put paragraph breaks in the original document for readability. And so that readers can more easily tell passages of time and where some scene separate.
Kinda wish I could’ve just linked the doc itself.
