Chapter Text
Jord could see the bodies piling up outside. He could see the smoke rising from the pyres, and could hear the ugly chanting of the mob.
He felt a tear leak down his cheek as he heard the screams, the last breaths of people as they were stabbed and shot.
He shuffled a bit as he re-arranged himself in order to move his cravat to muffle his ragged breathing.
God, he was a coward. His fellow countrymen and brothers had fought against these revolters; these petulant children masquerading as noble and lawful men. Their blood spilled on the soil, giving them glory in the afterlife. They died defending their honor, their family, their birthrights.
While Jord hid under the rubble.
He knew he was being a coward. He knew he should be out there, fighting, bleeding.
But God, he couldn’t make himself move. As much as he willed himself to get up. To do something. He could not. How had it ever gotten this bad? He knew many people starved, but that was life. That was Gods will. Some people, like Jord, were born into privilege and gold. Others were born to till the field and mend the clothes. That’s just how it was.
For his credit, he tried to be a decent man. He knew his fellow noblemen would often spit and abuse the peasants, for their own enjoyment. Jord never did that. He wouldn’t.
And yet he knew that this hiding place would not last him forever. The mob would find him soon. They would beat him, rob him, and slowly but surely end him. They would enjoy it, too. He could hear the cruel laughter among the screams of death. His stomach rolled. Another tear slipped down his cheek and was absorbed into his blue silk cravat.
He looked down at himself, as much as he could in this darkness of the abandoned shack. He wore a deep blue jacket, torn at the arm at his hurry to get away from the bloodshed and violence. He had a gold locket, as he always wore, in remembrance of his late parents. They had given it to him as a gift at his Coming of Age celebration, fifteen years ago. It was from the mountains of Shari. Thousands of dollars, easily. His entire outfit was thousands of dollars. Thousands of dollars while these peasants starved for bread, and resorted to killing their pets for sustenance.
He was dead. There was no way out. He couldn’t disguise himself, and even if he could, he was sure a peasant or two would recognize him and alert their allies.
Maybe he could run? Maybe he could make it out?
Jord flinched at another blood curdling scream. Another drop of the axe. He had to move. Had to. No matter what, he had to try. He knew this.
Steeling himself, he crawled like a worm into a crouched position, crawling behind the falling-apart shack in which he hid. He thought of his family, of his noble friends, and stood up. He took a few steps, as silently as possible, swiveling his head to ensure no one was following him, before he began to move.
Two steps. Five steps. Ten steps. This was going okay. Maybe he would be okay. With the savages content with their bloodlust, maybe no one would notice him walking by.
He felt like the characters in the spy novels he read as a child. He felt invincible. As he should. He was noble. He was better. How dare these uneducated barbarians presume to commit such acts of violence when they didn’t even know how to read.
As he rounded the corner, too fast, ignorantly, he saw two soldiers. They were both armed with a blade and a pistol. One was facing away from him, on a chair. The other was facing him. He locked eyes. Fuck. This was it, his last minutes alive.
But he knew those eyes. They were unmistakable. He had known those eyes since he was a child.
Jord thought back to twenty-five years ago. He was only ten, then. Beginning his horseback riding lessons. The stable boy, Alei, was nothing like he had seen servants be in the past. He said what was on his mind. He openly disrespected him, a noble, while standing in horseshit and reeking of the pens.
Jord should have been livid. He should have told his father and ensured Alei had a right and good caning for his disrespect.
Jord didn’t. In fact, something about the blunt honesty had intrigued him.
Jord had horse lessons every day. He snuck into the stables early, sometimes, and talked with Alei. About anything. Everything.
He had no siblings. All of the servants were scared of him. His family was not as well liked as the other nobles, so even they did not want to befriend him. He was lonely.
All he had was Alei. Alei, who would never lick his boots. Alei, who was his same age.
As he grew, he assumed his odd relationship with the stable boy would fizzle out. He assumed his family would fall back into favor with the King, and that the nobles would once again want to be close to the Gilliores. But it didn’t. They didn’t.
So many moments flooded his brain. He stood there a moment, and yet it felt like it was a lifetime.
When they were twelve, Jord taught Alei how to swim in the lake. He remembered Alei, grabbing onto his shoulders. Trusting him.
When they were fifteen, Alei had his first kiss. It was a scullery maid named Rosia. Years later, they married.
When he was eighteen, he had begun teaching Alei to read and write. Sure, it was impractical, given he was a servant and a peasant. But Alei asked, nay, begged. So Jord obliged him.
Soon after, Jord went off to University. They sent each other letters monthly.
In his twenties, Jord saw less of Alei. He married Rosia. Fathered three boys, Junip, Rydi, and Quint.
They still managed to talk. They still managed to circle the long Gilliore property, talking about all manners of things. Just like they had when they were boys.
When needed, Jord didn’t hesitate to pass a few coins, or even dollars, in Alei’s hands. Like that one time Quint had a horrible case of whooping cough, and Alei didn’t think he’d make it. He needed money for medicine. So, of course, Jord helped. Why wouldn’t he?
It all fell apart roughly a year ago.
Jord remembered the upheaval. He remembered the peasants screaming outside, protesting their work. He remembered their complaints of unreasonable taxation, of starvation. He felt pity for them, of course. But what was he to do about it? He was only one man, after all.
He remembered the guards beating the revolt out of them. Blood on the soil. On the rice grains and corn. Peasant children screaming.
He remembered Alei begging for his help.
Jord helped when he could. He gave the hungry peasants coins. He gave them extra food rations. But he couldn’t possibly take down the entire system. He wouldn’t, either.
Alei and Jord had their first and only extreme fight, then. They had bickered before throughout the years. Little disagreements. Nothing like this. Jord remembered, with dread, Alei’s final words to him, twelve months prior.
“Don’t be shocked when you get what’s yours. I certainly won’t help you. This corrupt system needs to end. By any means necessary. Goodbye.”
Alei had stormed off before Jord could even process the growled remark. Then, they never spoke again.
Though he didn’t admit it to anyone, and he truly had no one to admit it to, if he was being honest, he missed Alei. He regretted their fight. He watched, in shame, as the guards beat the peasants.
He tried to justify the violence in his mind. It was Gods Will that he was born rich, just as it was Gods Will that they were born poor.
Wasn’t it?
He snapped back to the present at another bloodcurdling scream.
Maybe this was Gods Will too. Maybe Alei was right. Maybe all of the noble houses were destined to fall as their blood marked the start of the Revolution. And he would be one of them, just another body added on to the pile.
He stared at Alei’s light-blue, haunting eyes.
Still, he was a coward, so he crept back and desprately tried to get away as quietly as possible. Maybe Alei hadn’t seen him?
“I’ll be back. Gotta piss.” Jord heard Alei’s gruff voice and gravely footsteps coming closer. He hid behind a tree.
His closest friend, his only friend. His executioner.
Lost in his thoughts of impending doom, he hadn’t even realized that Alei was already right behind him. Just as he nearly opened his mouth and involuntarily squealed, Alei clamped a dirty hand over his mouth. His fingernails were black with the dust and gunpowder. He held his other finger up to his mouth, signaling him to be quiet.
Then, Alei grabbed his elbow and began to drag him somewhere.
Tears flooded Jord’s eyes. He willed himself, and failed, not to cry. Tears streamed down his face. At the cold wetness on his hand, still pressed over Jord’s face, Alei shot him a scathing look. More tears flowed. What did it matter? He was on his way to his death, anyway. Might as well sacrifice his dignity, too.
Alei removed his hand. “Shut up and Behave.” He growled.
Jord should have come out earlier. He should have fought with his men. He would have lost, no doubt about that, but at least it would have been impersonal. Another noble name scratched off the list. Not someone who knew him so well.
They passed more soldiers. A nobleman, Jord recognized him as Benja Harit, was tied to a chair and having alcohol poured on his cuts. His torturer was clearly drunk already, stumbling about. The farmer pointed to Jord and slurred. “Ha! More rich kindling for the fire!”
“Indeed, brother.” Alei slyly smiled. It made Jord want to throw up.
How did things get this bad? He should have apologized. He shouldn’t have even talked to this overconfident cruel man in the first place, way back when, in the stables.
Jord began to cry harder. Alei quickened his pace, and Jord realized where he was taking him.
The back entrance of Alei’s cottage.
He wanted to kill him in his house? What sense did that make?
What sense did any of this make?
Jord fought the urge to not throw up as they crossed the threshold.
Alei spun him around, pushing him into a chair. Jord tried to mentally prepare himself for being tied down and he waited for the torture to start. More tears fell. He felt like a child.
But no pain came. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he had shut them in the first place, and saw Alei staring down at him with his arms crossed and a hard expression on his face.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Confusion flooded Jord. “What?” He stammered. He felt as though his heart would beat out of his chest.
“You heard screams and gunshots and thought to take a nice little stroll, you dimwitted, rich twat? You couldn’t have gotten yourself killed. If it was anyone else who saw you, anyone else, you’d be dead, or worse. Do you understand me?”
Jord flinched at Alei’s rough tone. In the back of his mind, he thought Alei sounded a bit concerned. But that couldn’t be right. Why would he be concerned? Ever since their fight a year ago, he hated him. He had to.
“I don’t think I understand anything.” Jord muttered quietly. How had all of this happened? So much bloodshed, so fast?
“Yeah, we certainly agree on that front. Unbelievable.” Alei grumbled. Then, he turned demanding. “Stand up.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Fucking stand up. Right now.”
Jord reluctantly stood. No matter what happened, his fate was not in his hands anymore. It was up to the mob. The merciless mob that Alei was clearly a part of. Better to be compliant. They could make his death last all day if they wanted. Hell, probably all week. If he was to die, he wanted it to be quick and clean.
Then, Alei abruptly turned to the left and dug inside his closet. Jord knitted his brows in confusion. This all had to be a dream. A horrible unending nightmare. He felt like his head was dunked underwater. He could not understand anything that was happening, could not comprehend this strange turn of events starting when he woke up that morning.
After a few seconds of rummaging, he came back with a worn tunic with matching pants. It was light brown, earthy. It looked scratchy and uncomfortable.
“Take that off. It disgusts me.” Alei said, pointing to the rich blue overcoat. Once again, Jord shakily began to comply.
“I’ll do whatever you want. Please, please just-“ Jord broke off crying, unable to continue. He did not even know what he was begging for. He just didn’t want to suffer, especially not at the hands of his only friend. Tears flowed down his face. God, he was a coward. What would his parents say, if they could see him now?
Alei quirked his eyebrow up. “Oh calm down, it’s not that bad. Like I said, you’re lucky I found you. Quit crying. You knew this was coming. The people were starving. Take that locket off, too.”
Jord cried harder at this. Not his locket. Not his favorite reminder of his parents. anything but that.
“Either you remove it and I keep it, or they do.” Alei pointed at the mob. “Likely after relieving you of a few limbs.”
Jord removed the locket and handed it over, tears and snot dripping down his chin.
“That’s what I thought.” Alei scoffed. He thrusted forward the clothes. “Change. Quickly.”
Jord did as he was bid. He tried to wipe the tears, but they just kept coming.
“Why do you keep crying? You act as if I’m torturing you. Follow me.”
They walked outside, through the back, away from the mob of people. Alei sat down and motioned for Jord to do the same. Jord didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t for Alei to pick up a handful of moist soil and smear it all over his face, shirt, and pants.
The sheer shock of it allowed him to stop crying, if even for just a moment.
“Good. Stop crying. They’ll think it’s suspicious if you keep it up.”
Once again, Jord didn’t understand. He wanted desperately to believe that Alei was genuine in helping him, but what if he wasn’t? What if this was an elaborate trick? Just to make it crueler when he finally revealed him to the rest of the revolutionaries. He swallowed thickly. Finally, he was able to stop the tears. For now at least.
“Alei, why are you doing this? Are you,” he paused for a moment to lick his lips, “helping me? Why? I don’t understand.”
“What does it look like I’m doing? Handing you ever to be butchered? Keep up.” Alei sighed as he took in the bedraggled state of the former noble. “Why do you think? I know we haven’t spoken lately, and we didn’t exactly leave off on the greatest terms. But I don’t think you deserve to die.”
“Really? You don’t?”
“Of course not. We have our disagreements, but despite your noble blood, you’re not irredeemable. Unlike others, who my brothers-in-arms are surely taking care of, as we speak, and I’m glad of it. But you’re different.”
Jord felt the nausea resurface at such casual cruelty. The flippant mention of hundreds being executed and tortured. He swallowed again.
“You saved me. You saved my family. Your donations made the difference between life and death. Your financial aid garnered the medicine needed for my son. I appreciate that. If I can save you in return, I’ll be glad to do it.” Alei continues quietly. “And, I must admit, as much as you are a spoiled, rich dumbass, I have enjoyed being your friend.”
Jord couldn’t help but smile at that. “I feel the same. Thank you for this. Truly.”
They sat in silence for a moment. They both considered their history. All that had happened between them in twenty-five years.
“We’ll need to think of a cover for you, if anyone asks. And we’ll need to burn your old clothes. I’ll keep the locket hidden, but other than that, we can’t have any evidence of a nobleman staying here.”
“I understand.” Jord did, but he also cringed at the idea of changing his name. The Gilliores had been here for centuries. From birth, he was taught to be proud of who he was, who he was born to. He heard another scream from outside. Another cruel bit of psychotic laughter.
Alei studied his face. He struggled to not look away under the intense scrutiny “How about Isidoia? Perhaps we can say you are my cousin, visiting to witness our glorious revolution?”
Jord struggled, but nodded. He knew he had to do this to survive. “Okay.” He sighed and looked up. Suddenly, it dawned on him how empty the house was. “Where is Rosia? Your boys? Are they alright?” Jord thought of the chaos outside. He hoped they were somewhere safe.
Alei smiled, genuinely, at the concern. “They’re fine. This morning, when we heard the commotion beginning, Rosia decided to take them North, to visit her sister. We didn’t want them to witness this bloodshed.”
Jord nodded, relieved.
They looked at each other, thinking on decades of brotherhood, united by their friendship, divided by blood. They smiled, and for once since that morning, everything felt like it might actually be okay.