ARC 2 - VIRTUE

CHAPTER 8 - FATEFUL NIGHT (REDUX)

Despite Ulrich using words such as grand and enormous, Elysium was still much larger than what Caelan had envisioned from the Old Bear’s teachings. When they had first approached the city the exterior wall had stretched across the horizon the moment it came into view. Now, some distance inward and through another gate, tall buildings made of timber and cob were intermixed with a few built of brick and stone that surrounded him on either side. The cobbled streets were wider than any Bastion could have built in the valley and they were teeming with people and vendors calling out their wares from wooden stalls covered by canvas tarps. It took Caelan some time to learn how to flow through the crowd and avoid being jostled with every step.

“Come on, you could use a drink!” Kukani said, tossing his arm around Caelan’s shoulders. “Besides, you’re a free man now!”

“And I have no idea what to do with my freedom. I don’t even have any coin,” he replied.

“Oh not to worry.” Kukani gave a hearty chuckle. “I owe you a few anyway, I think. Plus, we normally meet with some former members when we return. A few have joined the Order. You could ask them about it! Might be a...job prospect for you if you don’t want to formally join the caravan.” Kukani saw the hesitation in Caelan’s face and gave a friendly pout. “There’s girls at the inn, too” he said, jabbing at Caelan’s ribs. “Everyone could use a girl after a good fight. Come on, what do I have to say to get you to go?”

Caelan rolled his eyes and gave the man a playful shove. “Oh, I’m sure they’d love me. Unkempt and unbathed in days.”

“Hah! We’ll get you cleaned up beforehand, don’t you worry! I knew there was something that’d hook ya!”

“It’s not the girls, Kukani,” Caelan said. “You meant the Templar Order?”

“The very same,” the islander replied. “Some of our more noble members joined some time ago. I’d reckon a few might even have graduated from Initiates to Templar by now.”

“And what do they do? As a Templar, I mean?” Caelan asked.

“I wouldn’t know, lad. We don’t see each other often these days. You’d have to ask them...by joining us at the inn for a drink!” Kukani laughed.

Caelan sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh, don’t be sounding like Farvald now—it’s depressing.”

Kukani did indeed pay for Caelan to enter a public bathhouse to clean himself. He caught several people staring at the scar on his chest and the tattoos on his arm, so he did his best to remain below the waterline as he scrubbed the dirt from his skin. The bathhouse, much like what he had seen of the city, was well kept despite being what Kukani had described as low-end. The water seemed to be refreshed often and there was no muck floating on top. Every patron was given their own towel out of a large bin filled with folded linen when they entered and the steam that filled the air carried a flowery scent.

They had arrived at the city late in the day and even though the street vendors still pushed their wares most of the tailor shops were closed by the time Caelan finished bathing. Fortunately, Kukani snuck him a clean set of clothes from the caravan’s storehouse before they headed off in the general direction of the tavern.

“So these friends of yours,” Caelan said as they walked, “what are they like?”

“Not like Farvald, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” That brought a grin to Caelan’s face and Kukani mirrored the expression. It was a relief that there wouldn’t be any bloodthirsty mercenaries in the group tonight. “The only two I know are coming are Kai and Nalani. Both are islanders, like me!” Kukani stuffed a meaty thumb into his own chest. “They’re good people. You’ll like them.”

That wasn’t his cause for concern. Caelan had met plenty of good people. The problem lay in the chance that good people might not like him. What was he supposed to talk about? Fighting the Void? His palms coated themselves in a cold sweat.

“Here we are!” Kukani exclaimed. “The Olde Fiddler!”

As fitting a name for a tavern as any, Caelan supposed. Behind the door a bard sang and lute strings thrummed through a lively melody. When Kukani pulled the iron handle Caelan was overwhelmed by the sound of chatter and raucous laughter. The savory smell of bread filled his nostrils pinned by undertones of stale ale. He followed Kukani into the crowded room and tailed him closely as the islander weaved between tables.

“Kukani!” A young woman exclaimed. She stood, her tight black curls bouncing above her shoulders, and threw her arms around Kukani’s neck. “It’s good to see you again!”

“The same to you, Nalani. Kai.” Kukani nodded to another man with skin like dark honey still seated at the table.

“Who’s your companion?” Nalani asked.

“Right!” Kukani put an arm behind Caelan’s back and nudged him forward. “This is Caelan. We picked him up on our way back from the Far East.” Nalani offered a hand and Caelan took it by the forearm.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Nalani Woll. This,” she said, gesturing those still sitting at the table, “is Kaikoa Ochoa, but he goes by Kai, and Terosa--”

“Tera,” the girl cut in quickly.

“Right, Tera. Come on, why don’t we all sit! We’ve already ordered our next round.”

Kukani tossed two coins on the table as they took their seats on the long bench. The barmaid came by in a blur, leaving two tankards where the coins had sat. Caelan whispered a quiet thanks to the islander.

“So, Kukani,” Kai’s voice was deep and pleasant and Raegn felt comforted by the ease with which he spoke. “We’ve already heard from a few others of how you lost a fight against some bandits but managed to redeem yourself in a rescue. What other thrilling conversation do you bring back to those of us stuck within Elysium’s walls?”

“Oh, well if the other’s have already stolen my thunder I don’t know that I can be of much service. Caelan here might have some questions for you about the Order, though. He’s quite the fighter himself!” Kukani said, giving Caelan several pats on the back.

“We heard as much before you arrived!” Nalani remarked. “Fighting bandits to save Joyce! You certainly must have some skill in combat!”

“Not just that,” Kukani said, continuing his praises, “he’s a survivor of Bastion!”

Caelan shot a look of daggers at Kukani and the man’s shoulders sunk. The islander attempted to hide in his beer and took a long drink that dripped down into his short beard.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Nalani hung her head and swirled the tankard in her hand.

This is what he had been afraid of. What would he have to talk about but death and failure? Friendships were built on common interests, not pity.

“The reports say all sorts of wild things. Is it true a meteor from the Heavens destroyed the city before the Void made it through the valley?” Kai asked.

“Kaikoa!” Nalani hissed and gave her companion a sharp elbow to the ribs. The islander buckled slightly at the blow, but kept his eyes on Caelan. They were warm, a deep brown like the soft earth in a well-tilled field.

“It’s alright,” Caelan said, thankful for someone helping the conversation. He could to at least make them think he wasn’t so somber. “The Void was stopped and there was something that fell from the sky, but it was the mountain that collapsed, burying the city and stopping the Void.”

“Hmm...well a first-hand account is certainly hard to doubt,” Kai said before taking a deep drink. “I’m sure the Church has already sent people out to investigate it all, anyway. And I suppose we should be thankful that the Void didn’t get through, not that I can say what difference it would’ve made.”

Caelan bit his lip. They didn’t know. Ulrich taught him that Bastion fought so the Realm wouldn’t have to concern itself with that evil. They would be as ignorant of his troubles as he was to theirs.

“Maybe. I wonder if that means the Order will start sending us to Bulwark,” Nalani mused. “Though I imagine it would depend on whether or not they believe there will be more attacks.” She sighed. “No point in guessing, I suppose. Sorry, you two must not much care.” Kaikoa gave Nalani a wide-eyed stare. “No!” she said raising her hands apologetically. “I mean, I’m sure you care. I meant care about our assignments as Templar. Caelan, I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your home. Are you alright?”

Before Caelan could think of a response to deflect his association, Kukani chimed in again, recovered from his earlier shame. “Of course he is! He’s got a warrior’s heart!”

Everyone at the table gave a relieved laugh save for Tera who sat on the end next to Kai. She kept her hair short, barely reaching below her jawline. It reminded him of Raelle’s, save that hers was the color of a raven’s feathers rather than Raelle’s silver locks. Cute was the best description he could come up with for the small button nose, soft cheeks, and full lips on Tera’s youthful face. She leaned in and whispered something in Kai’s ear. The islander nodded and Tera rose from the table and headed away, lost to the crowd.

The stories of the caravan’s journey and updates from the two Templar continued until the sun had long disappeared and the tavern’s patrons had escalated their festivities. Men danced atop the tables with companions or barmaids while the bard strummed his lute and belted out some song about a cobbler’s busty wife. Caelan kept to himself and tried to avoid attention while listening to the conversation between Kukani and his friends.

He knew the Order was the militant part of the Church, but was unsure what the Templar did on a daily basis. If they claimed to be warriors or users of the Light, wouldn’t they have some vested interest in the Void? By the sound of it, Nalani had become a Templar before Kai, but both spent their days guarding gates or patrolling the streets of the city.

Caelan tried to hide his disappointment and forced himself to continue listening. His father had told him there was more to life, but...he clenched his jaw at the memory of Camael’s words. The Archangel had betrayed his trust in the Heavens, but what would become of him if he failed to uphold the charge of the Divine? Was the Church what Camael had meant? It was undoubtedly the representation of the Heavens in the mortal world, after all.

The night deepened and Caelan leaned on the end of the bar, having been sent to get his own drink now that the barmaids had become otherwise occupied with fending off drunken pinches targeting their bottoms. The tavern had cleared some, but most seats were still filled and other patrons stood along the walls, chatting idly about their day and what fortunes tomorrow might bring. He didn’t see Tera approach, still lost in thoughts about what becoming a banner of Light might entail. His head snapped when he realized she had been talking to him. Tera stood, brow raised in question above blue eyes as Caelan tried to play back the words. She had asked if he hadn’t been enjoying himself.

“Just tired from travel, I guess,” he said. Perhaps his wounds still took his energy. His mind had been clouded of late and people kept sneaking up on him. Or perhaps he didn’t need this next mug of ale.

“You’re sure it’s not from all the fighting?” Tera asked.

“Well, that too,” he admitted.

“Why not leave, then?” She leaned in toward him. The neckline of her shirt fell outward and revealed the subtle rise of flesh below her collarbone. He turned back to face the counter before the redness could reach his cheeks.

“I don’t really have anything else to do.”

“So then let’s leave,” she said. Caelan furrowed his brow and gave her a sideways glance. “I’ve got a favor to ask you, anyway. Come on, they won’t even know we’re gone.”

She turned and began to walk towards the door, not so much as a glance backward to see if he was following. Caelan considered his options and decided whatever the favor was might at least save him from more unpleasant questions in the tavern.

He stepped out into the cobbled street and was forced to scan the scattered people making their way home. He caught a glimpse of Tera headed away to his right before she became hidden behind others crossing the road. She walked with her hands clasped behind her and didn’t acknowledge his presence when he caught up.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“You’ll see,” she replied, still looking ahead.

“What’s the favor, then?” Caelan insisted.

“You’ll see,” she replied, more firmly. Caelan slowed his pace some to create some additional distance between the two. “I’m not leading you into an ambush and I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “I’m a Templar. Relax.”

Caelan continued to follow as they walked through the streets, resigned to the fact that she likely wasn’t going to hold any conversation. The buildings steadily grew larger as they went, built less from wood and more from a combination of stone and mortar. Caelan noticed that the streets, too, seemed better maintained, or perhaps newer. Tera turned and headed down a short pathway off the street towards a manor, the large three-story building covered in windows and surrounded by immaculate landscaping.

As they approached the front door, Caelan promptly became aware of his appearance. He had bathed and shaved, but though his clothes were clean they were of simple design and cheap material. Tera, on the other hand, wore well-fitted fine cloth that must have been made specifically for her. She noticed his hesitation to climb the few steps to the porch and door and shifted to the side to look at him.

“I’m not sure I’m,” Caelan gestured to himself, “ready to meet anyone.”

“You met the others earlier,” she said, “but don’t concern yourself—you’re not meeting anyone here.”

With that she turned and knocked. There was a clack as a metal bolt was drawn and one of the two wooden doors creaked open. An older woman, a housekeeper by the look of her long dress, stood at the edge of the door.

“Come on,” Tera said. The housekeeper gave no greeting or acknowledgment as they entered other than closing the door behind them. Caelan followed Tera up a large wooden staircase covered in an intricate rug and glanced over the railing to watch the housekeeper disappear into some other room on the first floor. They continued down a hallway that ran the length of the building, doors on either side closed and hiding untold rooms.

As they neared the end of the hall, Tera entered one of the last doors on the right, leaving it open for Caelan to follow. He paused, unsure of what to expect on the other side of the wall. What sort of favor would be asked? If there was a housekeeper then other servants were likely. They ought to be able to handle anything related to the manor itself. That meant Tera had a question that couldn’t be asked in public. Something about his home—no, they’d hardly talked about it. Caelan wracked his brain, searching to put disparate clues together.

She had to be from a wealthy family to live in a place like this and she knew he was a fighter and part of the caravan. She was also a Templar, so the Order probably limited her ability to act of her own desire. A bounty, he reasoned. It would make the most sense, though it must be something personal or shameful to not bring it up in front of the others.

Caelan entered and prepared to deflect the request to Joyce, but halted immediately on the other side of the doorway at the realization that it was little more than a bedroom. Little being entirely inaccurate description. The room was quite spacious and well furnished, in fact. The various chairs and benches were all made of mahogany and neatly upholstered, as were the tables and dressers. There was even a large mirror in one corner, reflecting several of the large candles that fully lit the room. He stood like a statue as Tera took a seat on the edge of the bed. She stared at her feet for some time and the silence lingered. Caelan continued to survey the room, looking for a clue as to her intentions. A study or even a parlor seemed more appropriate for a discussion about a bounty contract. Just how personal was this favor?

“Have you ever had someone tell you there was more to life than what you've been striving for?” she asked with a timid voice.

Had Caelan been able to stand any more straight, he would have. He gawked at her while his brain repeated the words so akin to those of Ulrich and his father. A coincidence. It had to be.

“Yes,” he replied and took several cautious steps into the room.

“Have you found out what that ‘more’ might be?”

“No,” he said softly.

Her head bobbed. “Well,” she took a breath, “maybe we could try to find out together?”

That’s what she wanted? To figure out the meaning of life? “I’m not sure I follow,” he replied.

Her fists clenched the crisp white sheets on top of the bed. “Will you sleep with me?”

Caelan cocked his brow, bewilderment spreading across his face. She looked up at him, her cheeks red, and he swallowed as the implication dawned on him.

“I—” he began, but she interrupted, speaking quickly.

“You can say no and go back to the tavern. But...you seem lost. Like me.” Tera swept a lock of hair back behind her ear. “You looked so out of place in the inn. It’s why I...chose you.”

She stood and moved over toward him. Caelan moved out of the way so she could shut the door behind him and allowed his hand to be taken. She gingerly led him back toward the bed, her head forward as it had been when they walked through the streets. She released his hand and sat back down on the bed, looking up at him as he stood several steps away.

“For whatever reason, I trust you,” she murmured.

“I, um…” Caelan cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. He had hoped Kukani would help him make new friends and that Elysium might be the start of a new life. He’d hoped to forget the painful memories that lingered at the edge of his mind each night. This was a rather sudden and unexpected drop into that hope. Still, her soft features did look so...welcoming. Perhaps this was a blessing—a new memory to replace one worse. “I can’t say that I’ve ever...been asked like this. If you’re looking for someone with a lot of experience I’m sure there are—”

“I don’t want that,” she whispered.

Delicate hands loosened the laces along the side of her shirt and slid the fabric easily over her head. She slipped off her boots using her feet before standing and unfastening the belt around her waist. Caelan stood, frozen. Not so much as a finger moved while she slipped her tight trousers off her hips and left them in a pile on the floor.

“Well?” Her voice was soft as silk, a touch more timid than it had been before. Caelan felt it tug at him. Her eyes were vulnerable like those of a doe.

“A-alright,” he replied. He swallowed again and hoped it would drown the meekness in his voice.

His shirt betrayed him and caught under his chin, forcing him to struggle lamely to pull it free. When he did get the garment off he noticed that Tera’s eyes were on his chest, face flushed. He took a small turn to hide the scar, but she had already fixed her gaze back on his. With a step forward warm hands slid under his shoulder and along his face to wrap around behind his neck. Then, with a sudden lean backward, she pulled him from his feet and let the pillowy mattress break their fall. Their lips met and Caelan could think of nothing but the softness of her ivory skin and the sweet taste of wine on her lips.