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How does one absolve themselves of a guilt born from death, where the promise fulfilled is never about loyalty but selfishness? Not even forgiveness could remove it, and it was something that Clorinde would have to live with for the rest of her life.
Clorinde was a duelist, one whose only role was to step into the arena and fight people who wanted to prove their innocence through valour. She was the strongest and rarely she would be summoned to fight when her battles were always one-sided. She was a fighter, not someone who judged who was innocent or who was guilty. As far as she cared, everyone who stepped into the arena would be judged by the blades they both wielded. It was the fighter’s version of justice, to prove innocence by an honourable duel. She never felt guilt for doing her job, for her role as a glorified executioner. Someone had to do it and she resolved to never waver even when her foes threw themselves at her with eyes full of terror.
That was until she met Callas in the arena.
The people cheered, clamouring for blood like death was but an entertainment to be watched over tea. Callas approached her before the appointed time and Clorinde expected him to kneel and beg to be spared like the many before him, to apologise and accept the trial where he stood a better chance at survival, to ask another duelist to take his place and fight under his name, but no. The man did none of that.
“I do not have the right to ask but will you make a promise with me?” he asked and Clorinde froze at the expression on his face. Callas was resigned to what would happen in this match, already accepting the outcome even when he showed bravery on his mask, daring to ask her for a favour despite knowing what was to come not a few minutes later. She nodded her head, both out of curiosity and out of respect for the man who showed no fear when walking to his death. “Please protect my daughter, that is all I ask.”
His daughter? Navia? Instead of begging to be spared, he wanted her to protect his daughter?
She opened her mouth to ask but at the sight of the conviction in his eyes, the resolute iron will, she closed her mouth and nodded her head, wordlessly binding herself to fulfil the promise made. She had no reason to do so. Was it out of guilt for knowing that she would send off a man who might be innocent to his grave? Was it out of duty as one who wielded a blade for a just cause? Or was it because she found herself yielding to the man’s conviction and resolution?
“Thank you,” he said, his last words to her before he stepped into the arena.
As she walked away from the man she murdered, she could hear the cheers of the people in the stand. Where was justice when the innocent was judged guilty? Where was justice when even the blind could see how wrong this was? Where was justice if it was not found in the nation of the just? For the first time, Clorinde hated herself.
For every moment she could spare, she kept a watch on Navia. At first, she told herself it was because of the promise she made to Callas. Later, she told herself it was out of respect for the man. And now? Was it still because of Navia’s father that Clorinde found herself keeping guard under the moonlight’s glow or the guilt that never went away?
(She could lie to herself for the rest of time, she could apologise on her knees, but she would never ask for the forgiveness she did not deserve.)
Days and months just guarding her in the shadows. Years fulfilling a promise that only she knew of, that only she was bound to. Was it out of pride that she persisted? A promise sworn wordlessly on her name and title, was it the weight it carried that kept her on this path? Or perhaps it was the guilt from a justice never delivered. She could guess the reason until the day she could no longer uphold the promise to the dead, but it was an answer she would never find.
When Navia and her comrades were surrounded by an army of Gardemeks, she was forced to reveal herself. She swore a promise and she intended to keep it even if it would become harder to fulfil it in the future.
She took a step towards the army, Electro already at her beck and call. Her sword pulled out, held in front of her as lightning danced along the edge. Then she struck, quick as a flash, and the robot fell apart in a single slash. The rest of the army were alerted as she expected them to. For each one that cast their gaze upon her, that was one less that Navia would have to contend with. Bullets flew out but not a single one grazed her skin.
Her title as the champion duelist was not for show.
She ran in, Electro sparking around as she took down Gardemek after Gardemek. All eyes were on her as she danced around the battlefield. It was no different than being on the arena stage, it was only a change of location after all. Lightning followed after her steps and her sword was but a flash of metal, gone with a blink of an eye. Half of the army was gone now, the other half was still attacking her in earnest. And through the barrage of bullets, Clorinde noticed Navia running in with her claymore and cleaving it through the line of Gardemeks. They exploded, taking out the rest of them in a fiery blast.
Clorinde only let down her guard once she confirmed that every single Gardemek was destroyed. Navia approached her, her eyes resolute like her father was when he faced Clorinde down in that arena. She did not fear the murderer of her father nor did she backed down from the earlier display of her might, only thanked her for defeating the army of Gardemeks before demanding to know how she conveniently showed up in a nick of time.
If only Callas could see his daughter today, he would have been so proud of her.
“I… followed you. It seemed to me that danger has followed you more closely as of late,” Clorinde said, choosing to tell the truth instead of a lie.
“I believe that following someone without their knowledge is actually called ‘stalking’, is it not?” Navia countered back.
“Mr. Callas’ last wish was for me to ensure your safety, and I will not betray his trust. He would do the same, were he alive today.”
“Do not… speak of my father.”
The words were spoken with such vitriol that Clorinde could feel the guilt on her shoulder weighing down heavier than before.
“Sorry. I… did not consider your feelings.” Was it pathetic that the only thing she could say was an apology?
Clorinde left after warning Navia. There was no longer any need for her presence but where else could she go when all of her time was spent watching over her? She stood before the water’s edge, the clear water showing the beauty in its depths and its surface taking on her own reflection. She stood alone as the moon continued its designated path across the starlit sky. And when the sun rose, she walked away, shivering from the cold emptiness.
The next time Clorinde met Navia again, it was during a trial that the Hydro Archon wanted to watch. She stood as the god’s guard, eyes gazing over the audience just in case someone decided to take on the foolish task of fighting an Archon.
Navia stepped in, commanding the attention of everyone in the opera house when she interrupted the trial to charge the true culprit of the case. Clorinde remained where she was even when her emotions were in turmoil. How was she to protect Navia from justice itself? What was she to do if she had to face Navia in the arena as she once did with Navia’s father?
Navia did not come in unprepared. She pieced together a different story, one that was plausible. She explained like she was telling a play and even Clorinde found herself drawn into it. Then came the moment that Navia called her to speak, a testimony of her father’s last moment, whether he had indeed intended to die in that arena that very day.
“As a Champion Duelist, I've fought many battles, and taken a countless number of dishonoured lives. In my line of work, I've seen all kinds of people give their all for the faintest hope to continue living. Some were determined, others passionate, and some even manic and twisted. Just one look and I can tell if a duelist is hoping to live, or if they're looking to die. I hereby swear on my name and honour as a Champion Duelist that Mr. Callas never intended to leave the Ring alive.”
The audience gasped at her testimony while Navia stood resolute, as if she already knew the exact words that Clorinde would say. Clorinde stayed silent for the rest of the trial even when her gaze never left Navia.
At the end of the trial, Clorinde left the opera house quickly, fully intending on staying a distance away from Navia. However, the moment she stepped out, she halted in her tracks, stopped by the very woman she was seeking to avoid.
“Can we talk?” she asked and Clorinde nodded her head after a pause.
They walked to the back of the opera house, away from the crowd and public eye. Navia’s trusted bodyguards stepped away, no doubt to seal off the only exits to this place.
There were many things Clorinde expected to hear from Navia, an order to never show her face again, anger and fury thrown at her for the mistake she made in the arena that fateful day, demands for justice against a murderer now proven guilty. Yet, of all the things she expected to hear, she did not expect Navia to apologise to her.
“I’m sorry. You helped me with that testimony.”
“No, you had every right to hate me. I killed your father.”
“You had a duty and he knew. I should not fault you for what you cannot control. Maybe we can make amends, a new beginning for both of us. How about a celebratory meal?”
She was not pursuing justice? Just like that? Clorinde was confused. However, Navia was the one offering peace to her, to let bygones be bygones. It was not forgiveness, no, that would have to be asked when she was ready to forgive herself. However, this? She could allow herself this.
“Yes.”
It started with a meal, an excuse to meet, then an invitation to visit. Clorinde had no reason to say no and she accepted every invitation Navia offered to her.
It started with a smile, a light touch, then a kiss goodnight. Clorinde saw no reason to refuse. After all, they were no longer enemies. Would it be right to call themselves lovers when one was the murderer of a father and the other was the child of the father who was murdered? It was too easy to fall back to a label even when history was only but a reminder of what happened.
“Tell me, Clorinde,” Navia said as she brushed her lover’s hair, knocking her hat down to the ground. Yet, her lover did not seem to care as she leaned into the touch. “What brought you back to me? Was it the promise or the guilt?”
Clorinde reached out to grasp her lover’s hand in front of her face, leaving a kiss upon the knuckle. “Neither, it’s you who brought me back.”