The reversed scale, the crest the flying daggers always left on their victims to claim their deliverance of rightful justice on each and every victim was now reflected over the walls of the arena by the golden long spear.
Panic replaced admiration the way surprise replaced satisfaction and fear love. The audience froze for a second, before going on a rampage in the interval of a minute.
"Murderer!", "Swindler!", "Liar!", these shouts replaced the heroic qualities attributed to the beloved dual wielder. But at the same time, a huge part of the audience refused to believe this, and started yelling demanding answers, and hushing the angry mobs. That gladiator who had been entertaining them for a whole year should not be easily abandoned, their faith in his two lances was difficult to shun, they had bestowed their wishes upon these blades, and the lancer brought them to fulfillment, they had released their fears and weakness onto these blades edges to cut and kill, and the lancer never failed to gift them the reassurance and sense of power they desired. Their belief in the foreign gladiator was too great it was resolute on either saving the man in hysterical zeal or condemn him in a similar fashion.
Wielding two spears, now the lancer was surrounded by ten sharpened blades all pointed at him.
"By the ambassador's order, you are under arrest!"
One of the soldiers declared. The Celtic shrugged, that ambassador was surely quick to act amidst everyone's shock, including the prosecuted person own shock.
Watching the unsightly view, the governor addressed the ambassador directly for the first time since the show's beginning.
"What are you doing, Lord Caecilius?"
"I don't believe my action is hard to understand or out of place!"
"I considered it such!"
For the first time, the governor rose in a loud clear objection to the ambassador.
"Naïve boy, that gladiator has been one of that cursed gang since the beginning, he is carrying their crest!"
"And when do you suggest he has joined them? After just executing the last few remaining of them?"
"Are you mocking me, Germanous?"
Caecilius did not move from his seat, but he narrowed his eyes dangerously at the standing blond who could not care less at the moment about unsheathing the higher up's wrath that he had been anticipating since his arrival.
"I am mocking the idea that a sane man would reveal his true connection amidst an angry lamenting mob, in a highly secured place!"
"Then what do you make of it? How does your extraordinary brain perceive this ?"
"A trap!"
Germanous answered with great determination as Laurentius watched his nephew getting all frustrated and worked up for the sake of a whimsical relation with that dual wielder that was mostly one sided as it appeared to outsiders, wishing he would have showed the same resolution about more important matters. Although he himself did not believe the Celtic gladiator to be involved, he did not intervene since he did not have an evidence, but he feared he will have to regardless of his interest or desire, if the blond carried on with his defense of a red – handed caught individual. Passion was a strange thing to him and a constant companion to the younger man, through its transient changeable nature. One day Germanous would be infatuated by something, devoting his time and care for its sake, few days later another thing would take over that same devotion, the first one forgotten, but all with the same degree of passion. This fickle consistency was a weird obsession for one to have in his opinion, and it indicated a lack of guided determination, though a great deal of the latter was required to keep the passion it bred vivid.
Laurentius's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the victorious soldier standing up once again against the ambassador to back up the governor.
"Lord Caecilius, I also agree with Lord Germanous. We should look into the matter thoroughly, and hear the lancer's point of view… this is just too ridiculous to be true!"
"And since when do we listen to the opinions of slaves?!"
The ambassador hissed indignant by the thought and the protests of the two men who were supporting a suspected criminal. He was about to dismiss the two men harshly when a third voice joined their side, a voice he detested yet for some reason could not find valid reasons to oppose.
"That slave is this city's most beloved hero. Unfortunately for you, his popularity exceeds ours. If we were to take a stupid action against him without full proof, I can't predict nor prevent the outcome."
Laurentius said, striking the right nerve that would unsettle the ambassador. Thinking of the angry mob rampaging this sealed place, Lord Caecilius swallowed his pride and withdrew the immediate order of execution.
"All right, call that gladiator forth."
Demanding to witness the trial of their beloved hero, the ambassador found himself forced to comply with the audience's rage and protest, expressing how unbelievably childish the people of the city was, as if indirectly admitting how frightening they could become.
The governor and the ambassador, each escorted by their men descended to the first stair balcony, as the accused gladiator was brought in front of them. Diarmuid did not focus on any person on particular, glimpsing from a distance how Sextus almost fainted after he took the side of the audience supporting the beloved lancer. Beside him stood Ilianus and Oscar, one abashed in disbelief, the other unsettlingly neutral. And from behind the younger gladiator, he could sense the glacial presence of green eyes hunting him.
Diarmuid was not afraid, his main concern was the shameful relation to that dishonorable gang that would be equated to his name even among these crowds of strange people that had nothing to impugn on his honor but it was still a distasteful end to be witnessed by anyone. He was angry at himself, truth to be told, for this misstep he had not anticipated or noticed, working his mind vigorously to figure out how was his spear defiled in this cowardly despicable manner, failing to imagine a certain scenario or instant when this could have happened. The only conclusion he could blame himself for was his dulling senses and wearied instincts as they betrayed him, falling to the comfort and idle of the days spent in this contrived place.
"How do you explain the symbol your weapon has just reflected? Though it is a silly question, and the answer to it is clear enough… nevertheless, I find myself obligated to ask someone like you just for the sake of my dear naïve citizens."
Everyone around the ambassador assuming the role of judge said nothing, knowing he was only asking for his own sake, to avoid being ripped apart by the angry mob.
"I have no explanation. I have encountered these thugs twice while running errands in the eastern region. I don't know if they have pulled some trick I was unaware of. I have only this to say, if you consider it an explanation."
The ambassador bit his lips at the gladiator's impudence. He didn't waver, nor did he seem interested whether he was proved innocent or guilty. He couldn't tell if this was due to high self – confidence or mere disregard for his life.
"What were you doing when you ran into these thugs? How did you respond to them? How come I did not hear of this?!"
"I told you I was running errands for Sextus and when you get attacked, you naturally have no choice but to defend yourself."
While the dual wielder answered like it was the simplest of things, repeating his previous answer more slowly this time, the ambassador was seething in his seat, irritated by the fact that he had to hold a proper conversation with a possible convict and that the latter was the nonchalant one.
"Were you carrying the golden spear during you two encounters with the thugs?"
Unexpectedly, the governor's voice rose taking part in the trial
trial after remaining publicaly silent and ignored during the show. Caecilius turned at the blond in despise, how dare he interrupt his hearing of the case?
"I was."
The accused replied to the unauthorized intervention, piling up the ambassador's annoyance.
"Did you leave or abandon your spear during these two accidents?"
Germanous asked again, and Diarmuid understood what the blond was trying to do. He was surprised at the apparent support he was showing him. He did not have reasons to suspect the governor, but he was still uncertain for the reason lying behind taking his side. In response to the blond's suggestion, he glanced at the spear confided with the soldiers.
"In a matter of fact, I had to abandon my spear for few seconds when we faced the horde in the second time. But I retrieved it shortly after."
"For gods' sake, Germanous… what does this have to do with anything? That man's involvement is obvious! First of all, did he not abstain from participating in the show until his comrades were released from their chains, gifting them a futile chance to escape? Sadly, they disappointed him and died like crushed insects!"
The ambassador gnashed his teeth while demonstrating his evidence, silly as it sounded, which was refuted by none other than the victorious lieutenant to whom this day was dedicated.
"His abstention is easily explained. Any honorable knight and true warrior would abash from massacring bound men, whether they were his enemies or prisoners."
"Honorable knight!"
"I have met this man twice now, and in both occasions his true colors never failed to shine brightly and truthfully!"
The lancer looked at the speaking man who rose to his defense with the same furiosity he rushed to his help at that battle in the abandoned canal. And as the solider went on with his story, the memories came to the arrested man.
"I have met this man when I first arrived here on a previous mission, I was wounded and attacked by thieves, and upon seeing my ordeal and the unfair state I was in, he did not hesitate to help me, showing an exceptional skill that was only outshone by his sense of justice. The other time, I have personally spoke to you about and you insisted on neglecting this man and his friends undeniable efforts and bravery. I think his spear might have been stolen and replaced at that time."
Caecilius was ready to launch a verbal ridicule to the honored guest but he was silenced by the protests of the crowds, who had not heard of these stories and who wanted to share their beloved hero in their glory and valor.
"Who would not tell this man's true identity and chivalrous soul by simply witnessing his fighting style? As a warrior myself, my eyes never mislead me when it comes to the ores of soldiers and generals!"
The lieutenant interrupted the ambassador, furious at his superior's lack of nobility to easily discern these facts and for the first time, he looked at the governor whom he knew could easily tell of this just like himself. Germanous stared at the man's eyes, his gaze wasn't disrespectful in any mean. Slightly, he could fathom a momentarily piled hatred for the ambassador at his cardinal soul. There was so much honesty and truth in the lieutenant's eyes, matching the Celtic dual wielder spirit, as if the general's eyes were the mirror reflecting the lancer's soul.
"This is absurd… so what if he fought stylishly or lost his spear previously, are these reliable evidences?"
Caecilius barked at the two men, insistent on delivering his justice even if it was misplaced, now that his pride and prestige hung on this but Germanous stepped once more as he walked to the soldier holding the two spears and announced.
"Surely. For the spear wielded today is not the lancer's original spear!"
Diarmuid turned furiously at the soldier holding his golden lance, and closely scrutinized at the weapon, when he realized the governor had known his loss before himself, the wielder of the spear.
"This is not the spear of sun and gold. Its bright is but a lame imitation of the morning's beams, a cheap forgery by a man unable to receive this world' beauty and estimate its mystery. Woven hastily without dedication, stripping it from its longing passion."
The governor declared, looking in disdain at the replica. He then directed his stare at the baffled ambassador and counselors. Surely no one would notice, surely no one would care, but that radiant bright which had caught his eyes and seized his admiration was something he could never mistake. After all, it was a beauty enough to dazzle his mind and leave him looking up to it. A man who longed many things but quickly forgot his yearning, except when these two lances were concerned. For someone to steal it from him, it was unforgivable.
"Are you saying these thugs have replaced his weapon when he lost it?"
"Without a doubt."
"And he hasn't noticed till now?"
Diarmuid hung his head low for the first time, not because he was wary of the situation and its possible grim outcome, but because he was ashamed from his neglect, at his own ignorance. Laurentius looked briefly at the trembling man, then shifted his gaze back to his nephew as if he was supervising his movements and defense from afar.
"He is a gladiator, they train with imitated weapons, and only use the real things for shows, which we have not had for two months."
Gesturing at the soldier carrying the spear, Germanous held it close to the ambassador, toying with his nerves as he purposely let the lance slide slightly from his pale palm to frighten the man, and went on with his explanation:
"The original spear had a carved sun at it, much more complexly engraved than this one…, and a Celtic Cross which I fail to find now…"
"That is true."
Diarmuid confirmed the governor's description shocked by the man's attention to details he had forgotten about and only remembered when the governor cited now.. Further assured of these facts by Sextus, the charge was dropped. However, this did not mean that the Celtic was no longer a suspect, even if this remained unannounced. Why would the criminals target him specifically? Sextus had an immediate answer to the ambassador's doubts; this man was the most beloved hero, he was the number one gladiator, and many gladiators had escaped and joined that gang, so this must have been to pressure him to join them or trap him until he does. The idea seemed plausible, and the ambassador had no choice but to resign, ending the discussion with a last warning.
"But know Germanous, if this man turns out to be a true member of that gang, you will be held responsible as a co- partner."
"I accept."
"You should."
Caecilius concluded the hearing, narrowing his gaze at the blond. Maybe he had lost the trial, but he had gained a clue to strip the arrogant governor of his title soon.
Sextus rushed to his hero's side, his face whiter than ice and his voice dry like a man stranded in the desert for many days.
"You know Diarmuid, you really put me in a tight situation this time… with all these Gladiators that have escaped previously…!"
But the freed man wasn't interested in anyone's care, especially Sextus's right now although the latter's concerns were genuine. Looking past the worried owner, Diarmuid saw Oscar taking his lance and leaving without any words of goodbyes or worries. He merely cast a quick look just because it was the proper thing to do and went on his way.
The crowds hailed the dual wielder's name, welcoming back their most loved fighter. Their love wasn't empty, it played a crucial rule in today's events. It was gushing lively, and the lancer could only repay it with the blood and anger he fulfilled with his lances. The problem was that the lancer was not worried about his life, though protected at this particular incident by the people's love, the people who wanted him to live for the sake of their dreams and wishes . So in reality, he had nothing to thank these cheering crowds for.
The same went for Sextus. The graying man would not abandon him, he knew the arena's owner was ready to take risks at least to a certain extent. In the end, he remains a merchant to his very core. But what Sextus was ready to sacrifice, he was willing to for the sake of mere illusions, a picture he drew to his taste and forced it onto his reality alone. It had nothing to do with the lancer and could not give him anything.
And he needed not the troubled heart of an indecisive youth, wallowing like a leaf through the different forms of the wind. He wasn't sure if he could call it a hypocrisy but it hurt, and he didn't wish for any more pain. Nor for himself nor for the changing young lad.
He could not care less about the ambassador and the other counselors, their inner thoughts and sly intentions were none of his concerns. As for the new lieutenant who took his side today, he looked nothing more than a parasite trying to force his naïve soul into the lancer's reality, perhaps seeing with deceptive eyes the same mirages as Sextus.
But that man, the man whom he refused to help and abandoned in a certain sense of the word, he took his side today too, defended him despite wronging him and despite seeing the truth the lancer had fallen into.
These red eyes, accused of chasing delusions, were the only eyes who could see the truth today.
The governor still had his back, the back that had fallen harshly and was almost broken against the restraining ugly reality it crashed into, and through the fractures he extended his hands and reached to the shattered core trying to piece it together, undeceived by the intact outer layer.
He asked for the help of a knight who couldn't recognize his own weapon while he, the outsider, easily revealed its replacement.
His eyes saw with the soul the lancer had lost.
He felt with the body the lancer had crippled.
Lonely and weakened, he still defended a coward friend who feared a vow.
Now he was only left with the crimson spear, a redness almost matching the dreamy irises and their vision. This spear, lonely for now, shall pave that dark path so the red irises will open at its end where the golden spear with its gleam shall erase the bloody steps carved by his comrade.
The former knight's right hand extended toward the governor offering the red lance like a tribute to a god, while he kneeled on one knee and placed the other on the sandy ground, his head slightly bent behind the burning shaft.
A token of gratitude, that was what everyone presumed but it was far from only that.
It was an act telling the audiences to give up on the dual wielder for his twins shall no longer serve their vulgar amusement.
It was an act grave enough to make all the councilors and the ambassador himself fear its consequences were they to understand what it implicated.
It was an oath of loyalty, a vow for eternity, sworn on a knight's honor.
Germanous, taken by the dignity and beauty radiating from the lancer, stood awe – struck, doubting for a moment if he deserved such unrivaled magic to bless his loneliness and be put at his command. If his dreams were delusional, then this vision taking place on front of him was the only real thing he could grasp, because it was a beauty sewed afar from his twisted mind.
Diarmuid offered his spears and the governor accepted. Who was he to refuse the bond of a revered knight?
From now on, these spears shall only be risen to the governor's command and lowered to his honor. It will shed the blood of his enemies and protect solely his being.
Broken promises, ravished vows, foul doubts, and deadly treason existed not in the one shadow entwined by the sun from the knight and the governor's two shadows.
That was the oath of a knight.