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Roland chose to take the long way to the infirmary in the Chasseurs' base. The path in the corridors of the catacombs was only dimly lit by a gas lamp every ten meters. His steps sounded hollow as they disappeared into the darkness. In his arms he held Astolfo, who was unconscious. Despite the weight, Roland was in no hurry. Oh well, actually the teenage boy was still surprisingly light. In addition, he was so calm when he slept. It reminded him of all the times he stayed by Astolfo's bed at night until he felt safe enough to sleep… He seemed so innocent, and Roland missed that time-
He stood still for a moment, his gaze focused on the end of the hallway. He'd chosen this route because he knew hardly anyone would pass by, and yet, for a second, he could have sworn he saw movement there…
There was silence, and he took a deep breath. It was probably just tiredness. The case in Gévaudan had been difficult. This case was important because of its history: more than a century ago, the Church had worked with the Vampire Senate to stop the beast of Gévaudan in its destruction. It was the first time this kind of collaboration had taken place, so the return of the beast had to be handled with care.
And yet Astolfo had been sent ahead, along with the twelfth force. Roland let his gaze drift down to the boy. A symbol for the vampire eradication faction. And then there was the remarkable order he and Olivier had received, “kill all vampires in Gévaudan”.
What was going on?
Noé and Vanitas could have saved the Curse-bearing vampire, but so many questions remained unanswered.
The shadows surrounding Roland pinned him in place. The Church was lying. Vampires were not the blood-sucking monsters they warned about. In God's eyes, man and vampire were equal – Roland was sure of it. He knew it when he looked at Noé: a friendly vampire with a life of his own, who assumed that everyone acted out of good nature. A young man who saw the beautiful sides of the world. A young man just like Roland.
And Vanitas, who went through thick and thin to save vampires. His relationship with Noé – their friendship. Astolfo had tried to kill them. No, more than that. There was no doubt that Astolfo had looked their friendship straight in the face and declared it heretical without a second thought. Luckily, Vanitas was smart. Luckily, Noé was strong and friendly. He wouldn't kill Astolfo.
Astolfo was strong, persistent, and certainly willing to kill. Roland knew it all too well, he had raised the boy that way. And yet he felt strange in his arms now. This wasn't that boy. That boy had to become strong because he kept repeating that he was weak. He had to become persistent because the smallest obstacle brought close to tears. He had to be willing to kill because that was his destiny.
Roland hated being in this position. He had had objections, yet he still taught a small child to fight. And now that boy attacked his friends.
He continued his pace carefully.
The fact that man and vampire were equal in the eyes of God was beautiful. The shadows around him tried to tear that truth to pieces. And it was quiet. So quiet that Roland could hear not only his own breathing, but Astolfo's as well — harsh and ragged breathing through his mouth. Roland had washed most of the blood from Astolfo's face, but his nose was still clogged.
What if Astolfo went so far as to have Noé die? What if he went so far as to die himself?
A lump in his throat made it difficult for him to breathe.
“Roland.” A voice as clear as the afternoon sky addressed him.
Immediately Roland stopped in his tracks. Metal clangs approached him from the front with every step, and Charles' silhouette became visible in the green light of the gas lamp.
“Monsieur,” Roland greeted his superior politely.
“Gano already reported to me that you abandoned left the sixth team and avoided the emergency workers.”
“Gano is exaggerating, sir. I know I can rely heavily on my vice-captain to handle matters, while I wanted to single-handedly take the twelfth Paladin to the infirmary and oversee the matter in my office.”
Secretly he strengthened his grip on Astolfo. He had hoped to avoid the other Chasseurs, but this was more difficult.
As unobtrusively as possible, he looked into the void behind Charles. No one. This was remarkable: rarely would the upper commander himself stand – walk – without assistance. His disability made this difficult for him.
So he had deliberately come to look for Roland.
“I have no concerns with the way you are handling matters,” Charles said. “So far you have always worked carefully and completely. But the way you avoided assistance is negligent. Trained professionals should be able to move and treat Astolfo better than you can.”
Roland smiled. “As you point out, you are absolutely right. I am sorry for my negligence.”
The only movement in Charles' emotionless face was the slow blinking of his eyes. Those empty irises without shine pierced through Roland. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn't lie to Charles.
The upper commander responded: “It seems to me that you do not realize the weight of your behaviour. If a Paladin is seriously injured, immediate care is provided. The sooner he gets back on his feet, the sooner he can follow God's orders.”
Knowing where this was going, Roland kept the polite smile on his face.
“Without a leader, the twelfth force would fall into deferment,” Charles continued, “or lose time in adapting to new circumstances. The fewer Chasseurs available, the fewer people can be saved from vampires. Is this clear?"
“Yes, sir. I'm sorry I didn't realize this sooner.”
Charles became silent. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed softly. To Roland it sounded more like an excuse to catch his breath. He was startled when Charles gave him another pointed look.
“This isn't about first aid, is it? This is personal,” Charles noted.
Roland tried to keep his focus on his reactions. Every movement was studied - deviations could be detrimental.
“Pardonnez-moi, I don't understand what you mean?”
“You still hope you can do something for him,” Charles said.
“I hope to get him the necessary medical attention-“ Too fast.
Charles lifted his chin. "Watch out. A lack of self-awareness creates self-deficiencies that can be abused.”
Now Roland forced a solemn look on his face and nodded in agreement. “You're right,” he said.
“I'm not here to criticize you, I wanted to talk to you.”
Roland struggled to come up with an answer. Now that it was clear that nodding “yes” was not enough, the pressure became even heavier. O Lord, stand by me…
Because he was hesitating for too long, Charles asked, “Let me be clearer: what do you hope to accomplish?”
“Uh-“ Wrong. “I-I'm afraid I'm telling the truth. I just wanted to help.”
“So you were hoping to make a difference?”
"Yes."
Charles took a step forward. “Overstepping your boundaries is a form of insubordination: you have fulfilled the role you were assigned. It was your own choice to resign as Astolfo’s mentor.”
Roland restrained himself from taking a step back. “I understand that, but…” Who else is there for him? "I thought-"
“Roland.”
Roland gritted his teeth out of reflex. Nevertheless, the corners of his mouth lifted.
“It's impressive that you can easily stand here with a teenager in your arms, as if it were nothing,” Charles said. “Your physical strength makes you valuable. But your colleagues surpass you in wisdom. When it comes to thinking, listen to Olivier. This is what got you this far in the first place.”
“Ah, no problem!”, Roland grinned – sincerely this time.
Charles reached his hand to Astolfo's face, and painfully slowly wiped a strand of hair from his face. The movement was awkward, and too close. His skin was paler than usual in the green light. Roland used all his willpower not to grab Charles' wrist and rip it away.
“This is what I admire about you,” said Charles, starting on a second strand of hair, “when you resigned as his mentor, I'm sure you realized you couldn't save him.”
For a moment, just for a moment, Roland flinched. He tried to suppress every thought. He straightened his back.
“That doesn't mean he can't get help,” he said.
“There is no help for him.”
Astolfos' breath caught for a moment , interrupting their conversation, before it picked up again with regularity. When Roland looked at Charles, he saw a look of disgust on his face.
The upper commander withdrew his hand and continued: “For someone like him, help is useless. He's already defiled by vampires. He has already offended the Lord twice. No one understands the shame that shapes his existence, therefore no one can save him.”
When Charles lowered his arm, he staggered briefly.
An emptiness spread through Roland's body as the horrifying words sank in. Horrible. He could only press Astolfo closer to him.
"That is not true."
Charles almost raised an eyebrow. "No? Yet you left him, and yet you agreed with my words. Where am I wrong, then?”
To hell with “composure”, it was a miracle that Roland did not burst into tears. Yes, he feared what Astolfo had become, but it still hurt him when Noé warned him that he would have to fight the boy. Roland had come here because the look Astolfo had given him before he fainted was so dripping with despair that it had pierced his heart. Because deep down he knew he was wrong: “Astolfo of Garnet” was the same boy he had carried away from the villa covered in blood and corpses. There was a terrible fear in his little voice:
“Please, lord knight…”
There had to be hope for him. Where, Roland didn't know, but he had to keep digging, and ploughing, and searching until he… somewhere …
“I killed them all, like I was supposed to!”
“What value can you bear? You taught him everything you could. You spent years with him. Do you think there was no benefit from resigning? Now you can carry him because he is unconscious, but the moment he wakes up you lose that false connection. He hates you through and through. Each time he declares this loudly and proudly to anyone who will listen.
“If “saving him” means allowing him to live without turning on himself, you'd be better off staying away from him.” Charles' eyes narrowed. “Unless you don't care about Astolfo and would rather have a lifeless doll that never resists no matter how hard you suffocate it.”
"No, I…"
What?
Wasn't he thinking earlier how pleasant it was that Astolfo couldn't respond? And what kind of coward retreated with the intention of being hated, only to complain about the hatred he received?
He was weak. So very weak. Oh, God, forgive me...
Charles took a few steps back. “I think we're done talking. I trust you to address your own shortcomings. One expects no less from a Paladin.”
Roland reminded himself to smile one last time as he desperately blinked away tears.
“Of course,” he forced out, despite an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Arguing with Charles was more painful than swallowing needles.
"Good evening sir."
He strode past Charles and hurried to the infirmary.
By the time he arrived, the fog in his mind had only grown. With acted cheerfulness he handed Astolfo to the nurses, and made sure to apologize profusely for having stood in their way by not allowing the boy to be taken away at once. He thanked them one last time, and without even looking at Astolfo, he left the hospital area.
He was tired, and didn't know how to deal with the emptiness in his mind. Praying, perhaps?
He stopped in his pace.
God could help him. More than that, He could guide him to the right path. As He already did.
Roland had to go further.