Giliad

One thing Giliad has never been tired of was sleeping. He was a hard man to wake up. So hard it took a forced door to tickle his senses. He cracked an eye and cursed softly for he knew that the hour was too early. He had an informal understanding with the mayor that he wouldn’t need to wake up before noon. Unless something serious was afoot. Yamil standing in Giliad’s hut meant just that. Did the mayor decide to get rid of him after all? Did she believe she could kick him out? Yamil could be a veteran fighter but it would take more than that to defeat a Royalblood. Yamil didn’t seem to be an idiot, so he must have come with something else.

“I hope you didn’t break my door.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” Yamil replied in a husky voice, then he picked up the only chair in the room and sat down. Giliad didn’t like the way the bodyguard stared at him, though the Royalblood didn’t mention it. He waited.

“The mayor wants you to stay in your place for a day or two.” She wants. She can want all she likes.

“And why is that?”

It took Yamil a moment to pull together an answer. The reply seemed forced. “Haven’t you heard about the refugees?”

Giliad put his hands under his head and let the hammock sway. The word ‘refugees’ sounded stiff as Yamil didn’t really mean it. The old hag wasn’t known for being charitable. These refugees meant business to her. And I likely standing in the way.

“I have no idea what you talking about.”

In the corner of his eye, Giliad noticed a slight motion of Yamil’s hands. It wasn’t a random movement. Giliad elected to ignored it, then reconsidered his stance about the veteran. Giliad assumed that the mayor had told Yamil about him. She wasn’t stupid. This is a risk to them. Greater than they can imagine. It’s like Kauri City all over again.

“You don’t need to. Stay here. Someone will bring you food and drink.” Free food and drink. It sounded like a good deal. Therefore it wasn’t. The mayor didn’t give anything for free.

“What happens when I don’t do what she wants?”

Yamil’s hands went still. His entire body froze in that military way, Giliad had seen so long ago it could be another life. He remained on the hammock. Senpai had a soothing gift. Giliad took full advantage of it. Moments ran past them. Maybe even five minutes vanished before the head of security decided to speak up.

“Unless you’re one of those ‘one-man army’ types that traverse the empire—which I doubt you are—you will only bring death on us. Do you have any idea what they do to the villages and towns caught harboring the likes of you? They skewer half of the people and spit roast them alive while the other half is forced it their own families and neighbors. They eat until they die because of food poisoning. I’ve seen it. These things you can’t forget.” The ex-imperial soldier. Giliad didn’t hate Yamil as perhaps he should have. Yamil wasn’t the only one to walk away from the heinous acts committed by the empire. There was much truth to his words. Against the Aael Empire, one could do nothing but falter.

“One day they will get their due. Amongst all these ‘one-man army’ types, as you described them, will appear one to throw the empire on its knees.” These words weren’t a prophecy and yet they struck and though Giliad couldn’t know at the time. He was tied to follow them to the very end.

“Don’t ever speak such words in Cape Town. Understood?” Yamil was on his feet. Giliad ignored him, watching the beams crossing the space below the bare ceiling. It was said that the weakest Royalblood was worth ten commoners. Giliad didn’t know if it was the truth. He didn’t care.

“I will do whatever I want. And though you didn’t answer my question, I gather that the old hag has something up in her sleeve. Poison? Is the dart you keep hidden in your hand poisoned? One shall wonder where she came by a substance capable of killing a Royalblood…”

Yamil half-turned to the broken door. There was more on his mind. Were his orders contradicting his instincts? It very much could be. After all, the mayor has changed her mind. The doctor was involved in her sudden change of heart. It may be useful to pay the old man a visit.

“I’ve been living here for ten years. Close to the inn. Close to the countless merchants visiting Cape Town. What’s so different about these refugees?”

Giliad put his feet on the ground, not yet standing up. He’d if he needed to. For now, he wanted to give the veteran guard a chance.

“They four of them have been found wearing the imperial armor. One is heavily wounded. Doctor Charcot works on that one while Zuma is getting information the rest.” The Imperials in the village was an unwelcome surprise. It was not business, it was a threat. If they were the Imperials. Giliad’s had met many who impersonated the Imperials on his journey out of the Fourth Region. It was a deadly business, but profitable. The word of the Imperial official was a law.

“Tell the mayor that I appreciate her offer but I must refuse. I won’t hide each time someone whispers ‘imperials’. If she doesn’t like it, then she is free to use that poisoned dart.”

*

It’s too early.

At least, another three wheel turns to the noon. It took the effort to shrug off the voice of his old friend Virra. The man and his wife had taken Giliad under their wings and in exchange, they received the wrath of the empire. Giliad told them the truth about his origin. Told them too late. Told them when he’d already made a grave mistake. He thought he was protecting them. Believing in his better judgment. The moment Giliad spoke to Virra, the man asked Giliad to run. He asked him as a friend. Giliad meant to take Virra’s wife and their newborn child. The Imperials came at night… What happened to Virra and his family Giliad has never learned. Death or slavery. And you’re here, walking full of himself, enjoying freedom, he thought, reprimanding himself. When was the last time his thoughts took such a dark turn?

Immersed in his memories, he walked without aim. Cape Town wasn’t large but it was home to over a thousand people. The marketplace was the beating heart of the village and the mayor made sure that visitors staying the inn had a straight path between. It was no surprise that Giliad found himself just there, completely ignored by Cape Towners. All they were interested in now were the ‘refugees’. He preferred that the attention lay elsewhere but with passing time came hunger and Giliad realized that he was jobless. Sul was his man. Giliad helped them hunt the more dangerous game. Now the hunter would rather stick a knife in Giliad’s neck than take him anywhere.

Naturally, then he found himself gravitating toward Ileyie’s place. He knew how many issues it’d cause. The mayor’s sister had forbidden him to return to her place without paying for the last couple of meals. I could take Ling’s offer after all. I wouldn’t starve like an idiot.

The tables were empty but the smell of honey roasted meat permeated the air outside. As he lowered down, his eyes were locked on the entrance to Ile’s premises. The old woman had a few serving girls but only she cooked the food. And she was a damn good cook. The inn had the best drinks but nothing beat a fruit-stuffed boar, topped with grasscheese.

Giliad tapped the table, forcing himself to not think about food. It wasn’t possible. When the serving girls haven’t appeared for a couple of minutes, which he knew was because Ile didn’t allow them, he was ready to go straight to the mayor’s mansion and take the deal. Ile charged out of the building, her little piggy eyes held a murderous intent. She was a small, hunched woman who had the strength to cut a boar clean in half.

“Are you lost, boy?” she snarled at him. “Or did you miraculously—Forest Gods give—bring what you owe me?”

Giliad shook his head softly, understanding that he didn’t have anything to offer her. In her eyes, he was just another jobless guy who wanted to take advantage of her good heart. That was the colossal difference between the sisters. Ling loved money while Ile genuinely cared for Cape Towners. She set up this local to feed starving and poor. Those who could pay, paid. Everyone received a free meal. The mayor wished to turn the village into a city. And she would gladly pay the price of having hundreds of outcasts and starving. It made the sisters fight. Giliad sympathized with Ile but right now he was in need.

“I can work for you,” he blurted out, not thinking straight. It was the starved stomach talking not him. Ile knew it well but she also couldn’t say no. Her moral compass was too strong. I feel bad about this.

“I will pay for him,” said someone who was coming their direction. A stranger with a face that reminded Giliad of the Imperial officials from Kauri City. Only the skin was vaguely familiar. It had a red hue like Zuma’s. “My name is Harvey Logan.”