The first destination the lancer found himself headed to, was for sure, Sabina's house, the beautiful yet ugly house resonating with emptiness, a void filled with unwelcoming iciness but the lancer's heated knocks, almost destroying the door, infused some fire into that void as a maid hurried to open the door in fear, slightly opening it before she was pushed aside roughly and the man barged in. Two guards intercepted his way but his fists took care of them, wrestling them instantly to the ground. Sabina came at the fuss, and was not surprised at the scene nor scared. She silently motioned at the angry lancer to follow her into a room but he exclaimed, deriding her command.
"What are you up to? Why did you order Oscar to play that pitiful role?"
"I was expecting you, I knew of the matter as well."
"Knew?! You designed it!!"
Diarmuid yelled, urging the two guards and additional others to try and stop him but the woman dismissed them with her hand.
"Designed it? Do you perceive as Oscar's owner, the trouble I am in?"
Sabina answered, though implying her situation was dire, her voice remained calm and devoid of afflictions, to which the lancer sneered:
"You are not a woman to fall in troubles, they avoid you because you know how to manipulate them to your advantage!"
At his angry sneering, the woman dressed in shades of grey like the rest of the town, smiled bitterly which was a rare sight to behold but it did not affect the lancer at that moment. That smile lasted mere seconds before it turned into one of concealed pride. It seemed as if she wanted to laugh but composed herself.
"You have a very faulty idea about me, but it is still not completely wrong."
Diarmuid did not respond, and was aiming his red tainted spear at her, because she deserved nothing better. Once more, the guards tried to interfere but she commanded them to leave the narrow corridor along the frightened maid. Reluctantly, they obeyed, causing the Celtic to sneer again:
"I am shocked by your dog guards love and fear over you!"
"This is called loyalty, it is their duty. This is their job and has nothing to do with how they feel toward me, it is just a fact implied by their job. What feelings ensue out of it, are none of my concerns."
"And what part of Oscar's duty dictated he had to perform that farce?!"
The infuriated lancer asked sharply, but he found his legs moving without his mind command, few steps back as the speaking woman was standing right at the tip of his spear. He was not afraid to harm her, he could slaughter this entire household if he let loose of his boiling current rampage but he was taken by surprise at her iron will and lack of fear. He thought maybe she was not lacking it, but totally ignorant of it.
"I do not shy away from my faults, but I bear none in this matter. I tried to talk Oscar out of it when he hinted at his frustration, but now I see where he learnt stubbornness."
"Frustration over what?"
The woman shrugged, she did not know and her eyes were incapable or lying or deceiving. Thinking more clearly now, she truly had no benefit from forcing Oscar to do such a vile thing, it was clearly his own decision and choice for some vague reason. That woman moved for benefit, hers or whose ever she deemed fit, she would not take an unwise move like this one, especially that Germanous would cease the chance to frame her as well if he wanted to though the Celtic doubted he could. She was formidable in her own way. Solutions and answers seemed to overflow her being, but like a frozen waterfall. His anger was now aimed at her lack of interference to stop Oscar or forbidding him from joining that cursed fight from the start.
"Then why did you not prevent him?"
"You are puzzling me, Celtic. Do you want to be treated as a man with his own will or of others? I gave him the choice, trusting him, and he betrayed my expectations."
In few sentences, Sabina managed to shut Diarmuid and prevent any further complaining or protests. No more accusations could be made.. What was he supposed to say? He is your property, he is your slave and you should be responsible for him and thus echo Caelicius words of hatred and haughtiness? Diarmuid lowered his lance, and before he turned his back he gave a final warning.
"If anything bad happens to Oscar, where you can intervene and you do not, you will find yourself at the end of my spear again, only this time you will have to turn your head to see it."
"I am so glad to prove you wrong, again and again…"
Sabina spoke to which the lancer answered with eyes filled with hatred although she was not deaf to the hidden plea in his threat. Foolish man, keeping up appearances of pride even as a dreadful destiny awaited his friend and disciple! The woman thought to herself amused by his attitude.
He could never show weakness, and she was more than happy to unravel this gown thread by thread.
***
The heavenly firmaments were darker that night more than his fears and concerns. Although disguising himself in commoners' clothes and veiling his head and face with a hood, he was still turning back and around searching with his reddish eyes the empty streets. He felt so vulnerable and easily targeted although ironically he knew this was not that much different from his situation in his own palace. Even there, within the walls occupied by servants and guards ready to die for their governors' protection, he was an exception, living with fear side by side and walking down the streets did not free him from that fear, amplifying it ten folds instead. He was weak, insecure, could not trust easily whether within the halls he commanded and among the counselors he ordered, or in the empty streets and among the people who were already asleep, aside from some drunkards and prostitution houses. But these were not the disguised governor's objective. He walked, quickening his steps through an alley that was not lighted or patrolled, heading to an old house and knocking calmly with shivering hands and a heart ribs away from bursting through his chest. He could entrust the lancer, his beloved companion, with this mission, but after holding the cushion that embraced the two spears the night before, he could not bring himself to. How stupid, he could bring himself to do many things, including a horrible conspiracy and a murder relating to his own father, his own flesh and blood, but not to defile those shiny lances that beckoned at the shallow light he held to, growing it stronger and brighter.
An old man opened the door, and the blond did not hesitate to delve in, without taking off his hood.
"I want to copy this letter with this handwriting now!"
The blond demanded, and the man wanted to object at the "now" part of the order, but his mouth fell silent as a heavy sack of coins was presented to him along two letters. The one to be forged, and the one bearing the desired handwriting.
Germanous remained standing, petrified like a statue, while the man tended to his work, no questions asked. This was his profession after all, and his eyes did not even widen at the dangerous words they were reading, nor did his hands quiver at the names they were writing down.
The young governor remained standing for a whole hour, nervousness taking over tiredness until the work was done. And another third letter was presented for him to view. The copying was remarkable, for both its professionalism and the downfall it was ought to bring upon the ambassador, and finally a smile could be seen on the anxious face that looked with satisfaction at the old man who humbly bowed his head as his habit was, regardless of the customers he received whom he did not know neither their names nor identities. After burning the two original letters with a candle on a stand, Germanous approached the old man's desk, who in return, leaned forward mistakenly thinking there was a complaint but anxiety soon returned to his customer who was holding to a dagger beneath his clothes. Though his profession demanded his silence and ignorance, traits that enabled the forger to live to this old age without being caught or tried, the governor's secret was so fragile it could not bear a single shred of negligence or miscalculation. The red irises glowed, reflecting the single poorly lit candle, or more profoundly, reflecting their holders intents and desires, ones to shed blood and feel once in real control over everything, not hunted by time or haunted by the others' judgments .
Just then, the door was kicked down, the dagger disappeared faster than the letter should have, and which remained like a leaf shaken by the wind in the blond's hand. How he wished it was his Knight coming to protect him or spare his hands this dirty man's blood and claim it his own, with his spears that would wash the sin out of the act with their nobility and elegance but the long hair that flew along the breeze made by the kicked down door left no expectations or assumptions to the man's identity.
Laurentius strode inside, casting a deadly look at the hooded man, knowing who he was, then he stepped toward the shaking old man, sword at the latter's throat.
Germanous stood puzzled, he checked every corner, from the ones in his palace to the ones of the streets and failed to detect anyone behind him. But it was damned Laurentius, even his steps were shallow as his appearance.
"You are the forger who is implicated in many thefts and heritages discords?"
The frail old man could only nod in a stunned shock at the commanding tone, he wanted to beg for mercy and announce his retirement but there was no mercy to be hoped for within the grey grave eyes.
"So you do confess?"
"I do…"
At these two words, the sword relieved the man from the toll of his years. The blond wanted to escape, not surprised if the counselor, his uncle, delivered him a similar fate but it was a foolish thought, trying to outrun the counselor. So, he tried to stand his ground and defend his action but Laurentius merely pried the forged letter from his weak grip, and without reading it, burned it like the previous two. Like a man on a mission, the counselor turned to go casting another angry warning glance at the trembling lad but before he could step out into the ally, the same weak hand gripped at his sleeve. Laurentius looked back. Germanous did not take off the hood, but his face was cast down, shivering and clearly frightened out of his mind. That gesture was the only thing his falling body was able to beseech mercy with but the long – haired man clarified:
"That man was a criminal, and I have the duty and the authority to deliver him justice. As for you, you need not stoop this low, I merely came to stop you from spoiling the good reputation you are starting to gain."
So he came as counselor, obliged to perform his duty, and as an uncle protecting or more likely, giving his nephew one last chance and a final advice. Germanous did not utter a word, and let go of the sleeve nodding. Laurentius left first, giving no glances back. While the scared governor waited agitatedly for a few moments then fled the scene.
His plan was spoiled, he wanted to frame Caecilius with being in contact with the "Justice Pallbearers" but for some reason Laurentius came to stop him. He was a man of duty and justice, and even a man as vile as Caecilius, if not guilty, he would not accuse but his words implied more than that, it seems had had gotten hold of something important regarding the fat bastard and perhaps the arrogant ambassador's downfall was not that far.
***
That same night, prior to the forger incident, Sabina had another visitor. Her uncle, speeding up the intervals between his usual visits, contradicting his habit of keeping routines and schedules.
"I am glad to see you soon again, uncle."
"I doubt it."
Laurentius replied with dry humor, and his niece matched his with her reply.
"At least you are calmer than this morning's visitor."
"The lancer was here?"
Laurentius asked requiring no answers, this action from the Celtic was so predictable, but that was not what the man's next inquiry was about.
"Were you in cahoots with the "Justice Pallbearers"?"
"And may I ask why you presume such a thing?"
The woman calmly replied, instead of denying frantically as any other person would confronted by these eyes of steel.
"Their location, their supplies, their reach and targets."
"You think I would kill children and maidens?"
"I think you detested their families improper behaviors."
The exchange between an uncle and his only niece, that should have been filled with affection; sadness and disappointments over the accusations, bitter anger at the presumptions, was so wooden and still, like a summer's night air.
"I condemn the methods of their demise, but they are not innocents."
"I know, just as I know you."
"Then you should rest assured that I have no ties to these murderers."
Sabina spoke confidently, and knowing her, Laurentius trusted her words but still, she walked toward him, sweeping her golden lucks to the side of her neck, baring the other while reaching to his sword.
"If I am ever found guilty of anything, then I only trust in your just blade to deliver the punishment."
Laurentius was not touched by these acts, and the aim was not to stir his sympathy, it was a wish spoken sincerely. Sabina knew the man had some doubts, which were made with reason but not evidence, and she did not hate her uncle for it; instead she was proud of him. However, maybe the Celtic's earlier words were true; troubles ran away from her because in her eyes and in her uncle's eyes she was untouchable but she was still grateful for his sense of duty and honor, even if it defaced her for few seconds that were instantly cleared. She also knew it was not because of Oscar's solo action, her uncle had probably seen through the boy's foolishness and rashness.
With that, Laurentius wished her a good night and left.