Chapter Text
Ales Livia was a simple soldier, she defended Myrineth like she’d lived there her whole life. Her leather-gloved hands rested tight on her sword and dagger, standing with her allies at the already-ruined gates of Idolia. “An ironic name,” her superior said, “I’ve not seen nor heard of a single soldier from there. Some idols they are,” he mumbled with a chuckle, the shaft of his halberd rested firmly in the dirt.
Ales laughed back, having been close enough to hear. He turned to her and looked her up and down, making her swallow as she fixed her posture. He rested a hand on her shoulder, his metal gauntlet clinking. “Ales, right? You’re the new peacekeeper.” He stated the obvious, her uniform gave that away at a glance. She nodded, keeping her masked face forward. “I’m Chrysanthos, I understand this is your first true battle representing Myrineth.”
She nodded again, looking up at him as he removed his hand. “You’ll do fine, just keep to the side streets and take advantage of the time of night.” He gestured up with his halberd, pointing to the nearly-new moon. She bowed her head. “I will. Thank you, sir.” He did likewise and turned back to the gates. Beyond them, Myrinean soldiers were already battling with the Idolian army.
Chrysanthos turned to the group, raising a hand to pull their attention. He turned back and gestured forward, and the group ran to battle. Ales was swept forwards by her fellow soldiers, stumbling forward. She was especially helpless in this sort of scenario with her leather and cloth uniform. She wore the colours of a Myrineth soldier, shades of a deep sea-green, which she thought unfitting for the landlocked territory.
She had been gifted hand-me-down leathers and cloths by another peacekeeper, but re-painted and dyed them herself, as every knight did. It was a sort of expression of devotion to Myrineth, every soldier had armor that differed slightly from the next. Their superiors didn’t want to admit it, but it helped with identifying bodies as well.
The world seemed to slow and shift, seas of metal-clad knights crashing into each other. Sparks flew in the nighttime air, metal scraping as swords danced. Ales looked around for any of her superiors, or “elites” as they were called, frowning as she had lost Chrysanthos in the sudden charge.
Her eyes fell on Sir Sigismund, and she grimaced behind her metal mask. He had already made his way to the front lines, and was making quick work of the enemy soldiers. His blade was coated in red, a splatter of blood across his metal helm. His haughty laugh was heard through the chaos as he shoved a soldier off his blade, their body falling to the ground somewhere beside him.
She slunk back past the waves of her allied soldiers, letting the more armored ones pass her as she searched for any kind of side alley. She was a peacekeeper, a cruelly ironic title for an agility-centered soldier, an assassin. Her job was to take care of any stragglers that had separated from the main enemy army, or any who tried sneaking around to encircle them.
She walked along brick buildings, trying to tune out the screaming from the battlefield behind her. She traced her fingers along the groove between the bricks, staring into the dark through the two slits in her mask. These streets were dimly lit, perfect for what Ales was here for.
She froze at the sound of hurried footsteps, pressing her back against a wooden pillar and peering out at the source of the noise. A wounded soldier was being half-walked half-carried by his friend, blood spilling from his stomach. The one aiding him decided that the area was safe, setting him against a wall and leaning over him, unsure what to do. His hands held uselessly in front of him as his friend gasped and writhed in front of him, blood soaking his standards.
He did another quick look both ways before hastily removing his helmet, setting it down before doing the same with his wounded friend’s. He held his friend’s bare, scarred face in his shaking hands, cupping it gently in his gauntlets. Ales rested a hand each on her dagger and sword.
The two men sat like that, the injured one with an arm over his wounded abdomen and the other hand holding at the healthy one’s wrist. He leaned into his hands, and Ales could see in the dim light that he was crying. His tears were wiped by gentle hands, and a sort of apology was whispered as their foreheads pressed together. Ales’ hand slowly fell from her sword, unable to let herself interrupt such a tender moment.
The wounded man began to shake as he cried, his hand desperately gripping the others’ wrist as a string of “please”s left his blood-crusted lips. Ales and the soldier watched as the injured man slowly began to still, falling limp. He caught his friend, laying him on his side and holding his hand tight in both his own. He sat on his heels, bowing as far forward as he could in respect.
“I’m sorry.” Ales spoke, and the soldier shot upright, looking up at the woman now standing beside him. She wielded neither her dagger nor sword, hands empty by her sides. He leaned away from her, right hand reaching for his sword in the dark. Ales paid no mind to it. “I know how it feels to lose a friend in battle, sir. I truly am sorry.” The man seemed to believe her, his hand pausing halfway to the hilt of his blade.
“He wasn’t my friend.” The man admitted in a cracked voice, turning to the body in front of him. Ales’ eyebrows raised as she really looked at the man, eyes adjusted in the low light. He was clad in armor painted in Myrineth’s colours. He was her ally.
His voice was flat, his eyes unfocused. “I didn’t even know his name.” Ales nodded solemnly, bowing her head in respect for the deceased in front of her, and for the man who, despite not knowing someone, removed his own helmet to be close to them in their final moments.
“You’re a good man to do that for him,” she said as she raised her head. He nodded blankly, taking his helmet and standing up. He stared down for a moment before pulling his helmet over his head and walking away, never pausing to look back at Ales.
She took a deep breath as he left, before kneeling down to the unnamed man and wiping the blood from his face. She stood and continued down midnight streets, an ache in her chest. She knew Idolia were no villains, but she also knew to follow orders.
She turned a corner and stared straight ahead, glaring through her mask’s eye holes. She found a cathedral-like building, or what used to be one. Parts of the walls had been ruined and crumbled, with winding vines indicating it had been ruined a long time. Ales decided it was a good spot to hide out, stepping through what was left of a stained glass window into the building.
The open cathedral was a huge contrast from the narrow streets behind her. Large pillars visually split the open room and reached up to hold the arched, crumbling roof. Ales wondered what the echo must have been like before it fell to ruin. Why would Idolia allow such a beautiful building to remain in this state anyways?
She leaned against a pillar, adjusting her uniform and pulling her hood down to fix her hair. It was much quieter here, far from the warzone she’d entered through. She re-braided her hair, tucking it into her hood and pulling it over her head.
The moonlight from another open wall was obstructed by the silhouette of a soldier, and Ales slid around to the other side of the pillar to hide. She couldn’t see their armor paint in this light, but the armor itself didn’t look familiar to her.
The soldier limped into the cathedral, tripping and tearing up vines before catching their balance on the tile. They were breathing heavily, barely able to stay upright. Ales stepped out from behind the pillar, sword and dagger in hand. “Who do you fight for?” Ales asked plainly, making them flinch.
The soldier cleared their throat, a woman’s voice coming out hoarse as she stepped back. “I fight for Idolia.” She reached for her greatsword, holding it as tight as her trembling hands could muster. “I take it you do not?” She barely wheezed out, taking a fighting stance. Ales stepped towards her, crossing the cathedral tile to stand only a few feet away from her.
“I do not.” She scanned the woman’s state, the faint moonlight glinting in the blood that trickled down her arms and chest. It seemed to be her own. She ran her thumb along the ridges in her dagger’s hilt, tracing the intricate engravings. They were in a floral pattern, with the outline of a thorned vine extending up the blade.
She took a deep breath, forcing the feeling of dread deep into the back of her mind. She stood upright, lowering her blades for a moment. Her opponent seemed to lower her guard, the tip of her sword dropping by an inch. She sheathed both blades on her hips, walking up to the woman.
“I am Ales Livia. If you are to win this duel, remember the name,” Ales said, holding her hand out. The woman leaned back, before pushing past her fear and moving her blade to rest in her left hand. She extended her right, shaking Ales’ hand firmly. “And I am Maira Cirillo. If you are to win,” she hesitated, grip loosening, “tell my brother I fought well.”
Ales nodded, stepping back and bowing deeply. It was a mutual understanding that one of them would soon lie in that overgrown cathedral. Maira folded her arm over her front, bowing slowly before her metal helmet raised to look at Ales.
The two took their stances, weapons raised. Moonlight reflected off the metal, dull in spaces where dried blood hid the luster of their blades.
Ales dove at her first, now that the fight was initiated. She knew generally where to stab at Maira through her armor, despite not seeing this exact armor before. Maira– unfortunately for Ales– knew exactly how to overpower her and keep her at a distance. Ales dodged around her swings and slashes from her unusually sharp gauntlets. She wondered how she hadn’t noticed the metal claws when shaking her hand, but was more focused on avoiding them than anything. A particularly wild swing caught her in the side, Ales yelping at the sting. She stumbled back, bashing the hilt of her sword into Maira’s helmet and disorienting her.
The soldiers fought for a while, both enduring cuts and blunt impacts from the other. To be fair, Ales had known she wouldn’t get a perfectly balanced fight against someone in full metal armor. But it almost seemed that Maira was avoiding her most vital areas, her swinging calculated and planned to allow Ales an out.
But Maira noticed too that when she was knocked down, Ales refused to use the crossbow on her hip, choosing instead to wait, kicking her sword back to her.
The distant sounds of struggle and fighting had moved inward towards the more residential areas. Maira had clearly noticed, her fighting was falling apart. Her coordinated swings turned unstable as her hands shook.
Barely dodging a downward swing to her shoulder, Ales’ left forearm seared with pain as it was caught by the blade instead. She hissed and held out her sword to block the neck attack, pressing her wounded arm against her body and letting the blood seep into her uniform.
Maira’s next swing sent the already-unstable Ales falling backwards, her sword clattering away on the tile. She took her dagger from her wounded arm into her right, holding it out in front of her shakily.
Her own blood had filled the grooves in the blade, trickling like a winding river through that floral engraving. Maira limped towards her desperate opponent, who had scooted backwards into a pillar. Her uneven footsteps fell heavy.
She grabbed her wrist, ripping the blade from her grasp and throwing it behind her. Ales raised her good arm to shield herself and it was shoved down, Maira standing on her wrist and pinning it to the tile. She raised her sword, and Ales shut her eyes tight, facing away. Her heart pounded in her ears as she awaited the inevitable.
She wondered if anyone would find her here, if any of her allies even knew her name. Chrysanthos did, would he care? He was the only elite to look her in the eye, rather than see her as some pawn. Would he know how hard she fought?
She sat petrified against the pillar, every muscle tensed in her bleeding, shaking body. But the final swing never came. She opened her eyes and looked up, the moonlight outlining Maira’s silhouette. She had lowered her blade, standing above Ales and breathing heavily.
“I will let you live, if you do me one favour.” She said between ragged breaths. Ales nodded without hesitation. She hadn’t realized just how afraid she was of dying, not until she was looking death in the face. Maira took a knee, stepping off her wrist and coming face to face with Ales as she spoke. “I can’t fight for this army anymore, I can’t watch my brother starve as I fight for a town that can’t feed him,” she began, her eye contact piercing even through both their metal visors.
“Take my brother and I away from here.” Her voice was low and serious. Ales nodded again, before she had even registered what she had said. Maira’s posture seemed to relax, with her slouching over as she caught her breath.
Ales patted Maira’s hand weakly, still gasping for air herself. “I know one person in this army. That’s it,” she whispered. “But you will still try, yes?” Maira asked, a faint hope in her voice.
“Yes.” Ales looked down at her own wounded arm. Maira sat down properly in front of her, remembering Ales was injured. “Ah, right, sorry.” She held her hands out, not knowing how to help. Ales waved her hands away, getting to her feet and looking out through where she’d entered the cathedral. She held her left forearm tight to her body as she picked up and sheathed both of her blades.
“You fought very well, by the way.” Maira’s voice broke the silence. Ales chuckled. “Thank you. A few of my superiors would definitely disagree with you.” Maira stood beside her, cocking her head to the side in confusion. “High standards?” “No, they would admire the fighting, I’m sure. It’s the bowing and shaking of your hand that they would hate.”
She looked over at her enemy, now holding her forearm tight with her other hand. “I know exactly what they’ll say about this, as well. Something about scars proving your devotion.” She laughed, gesturing for Maira to follow her.
The two stepped out of the cathedral ruins, over the shattered stained-glass window, and into the back alleys Ales had patrolled earlier. The body of the man she’d watched die lay still against the back of that building. She led Maira all the way to the front gates, where she now found Chrysanthos standing guard.
He readied his halberd when he saw Maira, who put her hands up to show she wouldn’t attack. Ales stepped between the two of them. “Sir Chrysanthos, this is Maira..” she trailed off and turned to her enemy, who tilted her head before realizing. “-Cirillo. Maira Cirillo, sir,” She said with a deep bow. Chrysanthos lowered his weapon and turned to Ales for an explanation.
“She and her brother need to get out of here, she is tired of risking her life fighting for a town that can’t even supply her and her brother enough to eat.” Chrysanthos’ tense shoulders relaxed, looking at Maira as she rose from her bow. “I see. And you wish for Myrineth to take her and her brother in?”
“Yes, sir.” Ales stood up straight. Chrysanthos rested the staff of his halberd in the dirt. “And you will perform well enough in your duties to provide for her and her brother?” He tilted his head to the side. He talked as if he were being asked to let her have a puppy, rather than house two entire people.
“I will, sir. I can share my living quarters and provide for the two of them while she trains to fight for Myrineth.” Ales didn’t exactly know why she was offering so much for someone she fought not thirty minutes prior. If she had wanted out of their deal, Chrysanthos could protect her from Maira’s threat. But she trusted Maira, despite her better judgement.
Chrysanthos nodded deeply. “Then take them back with the next group of our soldiers.” Maira’s posture straightened. “Thank you so much, sir. And thank you, too,” she said stoically, shaking Ales’ right hand in both of hers.
Ales grinned behind her mask. Maira’s own smile was apparent in her voice, even through the helmet. Ales shook her hands back, happy to have been able to help someone like this. “Go get your brother now, and whatever belongings you may need, and meet me here.” Maira agreed and ran off to retrieve her brother, disappearing into the empty back roads.