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You wake up to a servant shaking your arms. You stare at them, brow furrowed, as you bark out a question as to what on the Nine Houses makes the servant think that you are someone to wake. You can easily wake yourself and based on the light coming through the tents thin, fabric walls, you would have woken up yourself in a mere few minutes.
“Your soldiers have left,” they say and your teeth clench. The last time that you saw the other Scions of the Nine Houses, you demanded that unless they acknowledged Nav as your General, the leader of the Ninth armies, you would take away your support for their war. You knew that you could not lead the armies yourself but according to them, such an act would be sacrilegious. The Scions must lead their armies, they declared, and as promised, you took away your resources for such a stupid, useless war.
“Where to?” you ask, trying your best to keep your voice calm. “You must be lying. They would not leave without me.”
“There was someone wearing your garbs,” they say before adding, “We came here just to see that you had not forgotten any necessities.”
You pause for a second before bursting up, snapping your fingers anxiously. “When did they leave? Would there be a chance to find them before they reach Rho?”
“I sincerely doubt that you will find them,” they say. “They left nearly half an hour ago and they took almost all of the horses with them. We would have to mostly move by foot.”
“Well, we must leave either way,” you demand. “Collect everyone who is still here while I ready myself. We will leave as soon as possible to raise our chances of getting there in time to stop them.”
“Understood,” the servant says before walking off. Just as they do so, The Body appears, leering out of the corner of your eye.
“I know, I know,” you whisper to her. “That idiot. Does she really think that she can prevent what the Emperor above wills?”
The Body does not respond, you do not expect her to, but she comes over and leans to to press her lips coldly against your forehead. It is not a proper kiss, her face does not move out of its stoic, slightly despaired mask, but it comforts you all the same.
“I must get dressed. Gideon… I can not let her die,” you say as you stand up. You must find Gideon before something happens to her. She is your love and you can not let anything happen to her because of your own neglect. You never should have allowed a matter such as this to happen. Perhaps, you never should have drawn your support away to begin with and perhaps, that could have solved this.
You would rather die a million times over than have a scrape graze Gideon’s knee. She is the most important person in your small, cold world and you never wish to see her be in pain.
You do not get there in time. Sextus talks to you as you walk towards Gideon’s corpse but you do not say anything, instead turning to look at her. This was not your war, this was the Third’s war, some stolen sister causing a decade of turmoil. This was not her war either.
“Who killed her?” you say, turning to Sextus. The bones that make up your earrings begin to shake as you begin to gesticulate wildly. “Who killed her? One of your men must have seen her. I know that your people know exactly what happened.”
“It was Our Lady Of Passions,” Sextus said, reaching out a hand. “I am only telling you this to keep you calm, understand? This is no reason to do something stupid. We are far too late in this to lose such an important part of our armies?”
“You think that I will not want my revenge?” you scream, your voice already growing harsh. “Have you no love for any man? Would you not want to get-”
“If any of the Sixth were to have their lives taken, I would want revenge but I would understand that there are things that must be done. Now, Nonagesimus, put your bloody hand down and take a breath. You must calm yourself down.”
“I hope that you burn in hell,” you yell. “Your soul will rot away until it is nothing.”
“Thank you, Nonagesimus.”
Days pass and you do not move. You let your soldiers work with the Sixth and the Third after months apart from them but you do not work with them yourself. Sextus sits across from you one day and says, “The Emperor has provided you with new garb.”
“I do not care. I will not return to the frontlines,” you say, staring ahead at the nothingness. You have not eaten and barely taken in a sip of water, leaving you feeling frail.
“You are the strongest necromancer we have,” he says and you shake your head. “You have never suffered an injury nor any blow. You are truly a fantastic warrior.”
“My mother dipped me into the River,” you say for reasons you could not explain. “I am unable to be wounded.” You do not tell him of your weakness nor that it was the Body who did so. That would bring far too much questioning. “There is nothing special about me in my true nature.”
“And we need you all the same. You are something else entirely, Nonagesimus. You give yourself not nearly enough credit.”
“What do you want from me, Sextus?” you ask, watching as The Body comes to your side, laying her head on your lap in what might be a comfort. “There is little that I want to do besides die at this point in my life. You might as well just leave me to rot alone in my own home. I would not want to waste your time trying to work alongside me.”
“I do not want to watch you die.” Sextus pauses before saying, “We have reason to believe that Our Lady Of Passion will be present in Rho tomorrow.”
You pause before turning to look at him. He looks kind, you realize, and you miss the feeling of someone being kind to you. Without Nav, you have been rather alone and perhaps you are lonely but there is something in his eyes that welcomes you.
“Thank you, Sextus.”
“Please, call me Palamedes.”
It happened in a flurry of pain and violence but eventually, Passion was dead. You stare at the corpse, taking a deep breath, before blinking up to look at Palamedes’s cavalier, a woman named Camilla Hect.
“We must return,” she says to you and you pause.
“The battle rages on yet,” you respond, wiping blood from your forehead. “There is no time for rest.”
“The Third has requested us to retreat,” she says and you furrow your brow. You do not know what to do and she says, “I do not know why either. We could easily win at this point but now, there is no choice. The Lyctor’s above will smite us if we do not follow her commands.”
“You truly believe that?” you ask with a hiss.
“I think Tridentarius will smite us if the Lyctors don’t,” she says and it takes you a second for you to realize that it is a joke. You follow after her, not caring about anything more.
Our Lady Of Passion is dead and now, there’s nothing more for you to fight for. You may as well retreat, you see nothing more in the world for you outside of Gideon.
Part of you hopes that you die in the next battle.