Work Text:
Yudrein placed all the pieces in their starting position, ready to start another game of Imuran Yute Mesis. It now had been a while since he had played one, but the moves were so familiar it was engraved in his muscles.
He hadn’t taken the time to wash up from his last mission, the feeling of the dry blood was weighting down on his clothes — though it wasn’t his. Or maybe it was because it wasn’t his that it felt so heavy on him. He couldn’t tell, he just felt numb right now. Like everything around him suddenly quieted down and yet his head felt hazy.
He rubbed a common piece between his fingers. The first time Yudrein had been confronted with death had been when his grandfather passed away, he didn’t remember if the cause had ever been explained to him. Dying of old age was probably the best for him.
However, he remembered the familiar feeling of numbness dragging him down. It didn’t prevent him from going on about his days, but the mountain did seem quieter then.
The board moved little by little. Yudrein would move his pieces, then a white glove would come to push the others. As usual, he lost a lot more pieces than his opponent.
Death had become a lot more common once he entered the Cavalry.
Of course, everyone knew the risks of entering a military unit. Obviously people would die, but the first time one of his fellow cavalry member fell in front of him, he froze for just a moment, his inaction allowing another to die.
“Your strategies are very offensive and hard to defend against, but leads you to losing too many pieces. Doing so hinders you later in the game.”
Yes, he knew that. But it’s what I am the most skilled at.
He looked down at the board, a few of his pieces were encircling a slightly scattered army. By now, all of his common pieces had been slowly disappearing, leaving only his most powerful ones, though it looked like his last priest was going to be gobbled up soon enough.
Right now, if Yudrein had to point the person he was the most intertwined with, he would choose Enon. He didn’t exactly understand what the man saw in him, but it seemed like he held some sort of fondness for Yudrein that went beyond their informant and client relationship.
Had he ever shown him that his fondness is reciprocal ? Maybe he should get some better quality lemons than usual for the next time they meet.
“Ha…”
In a rare moment of carelessness, his hand failed him and let go of the priest as he lifted it off the board. The piece came tumbling down on the wooden floor, the sound of wood hitting wood piercing through the silence as it echoed in the empty office.
Yudrein sighted. Not feeling like bending down to pick it up, he simply used his power to put it back on the table. Now was a turning point in the game ; since one of his knights had managed to attain the end of the board, it now became a white makas.
The next moves went quickly, in a swift mechanical rhythm as only the slight clicks of the pawns being placed one after the other could be heard, just placing pieces after pieces, slowly advancing on the board and surviving despite his few units remaining until eventually…
“Game is up.”
Despite little of his army remaining, he had managed to breach the other player’s defense, utterly cornering the other player’s last Imum.
He remembered Kishiar’s reaction. He rarely won, but it was always met with a sort of contained gleefulness from the other man, complimenting him sometimes in an exaggerated manner that felt almost sarcastic before transitioning smoothly into a review of the game complete with harsh criticism of Yuder’s moves.
They would always proceed to have tea along with pastries to accompany it — something that felt too obvious and patronizing for Yuder at first. He had complained, but Kishiar hadn’t budged, instead he simply smiled at him and encouraged him to taste the food. After cleaning up the table of nearly all the pastries, he decided this wasn’t something worth arguing about.
Their last game had been no different.
Yudrein kept on staring at the self-made recreation of their final play.
Yuder won, something that had become increasingly frequent over the years, thanks to being mentored. Kishiar looked happy all the while harshly pointing out his many mistakes, they ate and drank as usual and that was it.
A few days later, Yuder became Yudrein Ail, Commander of the Cavalry and Kishiar la Orr, the infamous Duke of Peletta retreated to his far away territory, completely stopping any manner of communication with Yudrein.
He attended the ceremony and left the next day. No mention of his plan, no mention of their usual meetings, no mention of those nights, he simply left him behind, carelessly thrown away as Yuder had feared.
He once thought that if Kishiar left, he might be relieved from all of these contradictory, conflicted feelings. Instead, not only did they remain, but a deep-seated bitterness mingled with them, bringing a tingling at the corner of his eyes whenever his mind wandered.
And then, just a few weeks later, Yudrein had driven a knife in his heart, felt the warm blood trickling down on his gloves and watched as life left the eyes of the man that had shaped him.
In good or in bad, at this point Yudrein couldn’t tell.
He didn’t regret it, however.
It was an order from the Emperor.
Kishiar la Orr was suspicious.
Refusing that order would have killed him, and subsequently destroyed the Cavalry.
There was no choice.
And so, Yudrein assassinated Kishiar la Orr.
He didn’t regret it.
Yudrein sighted again, throwing his head backward to bang his head against the chair.
He hated it when his thoughts spiraled like that. He couldn’t exactly tell when it started to happen, but it was like it waited for him to empty his mind doing activities he would have described as relaxing before, as if words just had to fill it in. During sparing and training, when mindlessly doing paperwork, when eating, when trying to sleep...
Whatever.
He got up, taking a bottle of heavy fermented monster beverage that was already half empty. He hesitated a bit, as he had to appear publicly soon... but just a little bit wouldn't show — he would know, he had experimented before.
So he served himself a tiny amount, barely enough to cover the bottom of the glass, and savored the burning sensation of the liquid going down his throat.
It was just a tiny amount, but even with it Yudrein still felt the lightness getting to his mind, his vision blurring as his eyes refused to focus on anything.
Just as he was about to let himself bask in the sensation, a knock at the door interrupted him.
“Commander !” Ever’s voice resonated from the other side of the door. “The carriage just arrived.”
Yudrein glanced at the heavily decorated door. Just looking at it now gave him a slight sense of nausea — maybe it would be better to reshape the entire office now that its owner wasn’t here anymore. He allowed himself a few seconds of laziness before finally finding the strength to get up. Before leaving, he at least put on the coat that belonged to the Commander of the Cavalry in such a way that it would hide most of the dried blood on his uniform — as for the smell it gave, Yudrein couldn’t find it in him to care. Considering what kind of event he would be attending, he doubted anyone would.
The ride to the Palace went mostly in a blur as the drink still provided this feeling of distance from the world, though it was slowly jostled away by the carriage rough driving and by the time Yudrein stepped down on the tilled path, he had already sobered up.
A servant was waiting for him, and took him towards a particular wing of the Sun Palace ; the Imperial burial ground.
Of course, even if Kishiar la Orr had officially given up his title of Imperial heir, he was still a member of the Royal family and a descendant of the Sun God — therefore he was to be buried in the Sun Palace’s garden’s soil.
Usually, a member of the main royal family would be buried in the crypt meant for immediate relatives, but Yudrein had heard that Emperor Katchian had argued against it.
A way to humiliate him even in death, Yudrein supposed. A small gesture that denied his importance and put his body far away from his brothers’.
He found it futile. The man was dead, this ‘humiliation’ was petty at best.
But now, Yudrein knew better than to say bluntly what he thought. So he kept his mouth shut when he received the news and quietly accepted the invitation to Kishiar la Orr’s funeral.
He didn’t dress up, his uniform was stained with blood and the dried blood probably emitted an unpleasant smell — completely unpresentable.
That wasn’t really a malicious action born out of pettiness, though. Going to his funeral in the most authentic way he could appear was the best way to send him off, Yudrein figured. When he had attended his grandfather’s funeral, he vividly remembered being covered in mud.
The event was small, with only a handful of key figures all associated with the Emperor in some ways that Yudrein couldn’t be bothered to list out, and the Emperor himself of course. Yudrein stood away from the other guest, partly because the smell he gave off was probably not the greeted, but mainly because he was not in the mood to mingle with them. He listened, as someone he had never seen in his life deliver a generic speech that was felt almost sarcastic in its recital.
Well, looking at the Emperor pleased face and the other nobles recurrent ‘coughs’ it was probably the intended effect.
No one here besides the servants actually took this ceremony seriously. It was just for show, to say they still respected tradition all the while acting as disrespectful as they could get away with, as usual with nobility. All appearance and backstabbing.
And who would take Kishiar la Orr, the lecherous Duke of Peletta’s defense ? He had no one, even in death. Even his knight order had scattered away, he heard.
A surprising thing really, Yudrein had braced himself for a certain adjutant to come for his head. Guess he wasn’t as loyal as he thought.
The whole thing took maybe thirty minutes at most. Once the speech was finished, the coffin was carried away, taken to an isolated spot in the cemetery, to be buried and then never spoken of ever again.
Yudrein stared all along in silence, hoping that from wherever Kishiar was he could witness him wearing the white uniform of the Commander of the Cavalry, stained by dried, brown blood.
“You could have looked more presentable than that.”
Emperor Katchian spoke up, standing at a distance from Yudrein. His face slightly frowning in disgust, most likely from the smell. Yudrein shrugged, faintly wondering if it was the first time the Emperor smelled this metallic scent.
“It was not that important.”
That answer seemed to satisfy him as his visible disgust turned into a self-satisfied smile.
“You’re right, it is not,” Katchian let out a little laugh, “You know Commander, I expect a lot of you.”
“...”
Yudrein didn’t respond.
“For example, I expect to see you at tonight’s ball. And in more…” He vaguely gestured at Yudrein, “acceptable accoutrements.”
“...Yes, your Majesty.”
With that, the Emperor unceremoniously left, only ordering a single servant to stay behind.
As for Yudrein, he didn’t stay long either. Now that he was looking at Kishiar la Orr final resting place, he felt like any feeling he had got evaporated only to leave a profound fatigue, resting in his bowel and spreading through his bone.
But that didn’t matter. Kishiar is dead and Yudrein has new missions to attend, time doesn’t stop.
He took one last glance at the name etched onto the stone — this was his first and only visit after all.