Line of Impiety

Chapter 4

A Score of Lies

Incredulous Asch was torn between a show of rage an shock. Both were forms of weakness, but the indecision he wallowed in was a hundred times worse than either. He was rooted into the floor, his mouth sagged open as he stared blankly at his 'Master'. Taking his silence as quiet rebelliousness -far too mild a state to describe what was really going on in Asch's mind, but the master always seemed to underestimate his pupil's rage- Van continued his lecture.

"It's custom. You'll have to do so anyways, so why not begin now?"

If you think there is any way in hell I'm going to personally take in one of your spies you're out of your mind!

Choking down those words was hard. He actually almost gagged on them and their accompanying bitterness. With a visible grimace Asch got control of himself and managed a cool shake of his head. Pretending to be oblivious to the unspoken denial Van went on. But the Commandant's eyes -like his tone- acquired an edge of steel.

"You are a Cantor. Eventually you must take in a disciple. It must occur when you attain a greater rank within the order. But most of your current age and rank have already taken in a few underlings, the fact you remain different-"

"I... I won't have a servant, a slave, serve under me." Asch snarled, cutting through the air in front of him with a sharp motion of his hand. "Much less some stupid boy who's been brainwashed by the church..."

Annoyed, Van frowned, his lips pressed into a thin line. The brown bushy eyebrows all but met and melded at the bridge of his nose as he scrunched his normally bland expression into a scowl. Form a world away the "stupid boy" Asch had denounced cringed into the shadows of Van's office. Asch noticed the motion out of the corner of his eye, still he refused to turn, to comfort, or acknowledge the young child Van was trying to push on him. To show any attachment or interest would either pave the way for Van to force the child into Asch's service or lead to the child's death.

Considering the cold calculating mentality of Asch's mentor both would probably occur if Asch took the child in.

After all it was best to leave no witnesses. Bodies could be disposed of, buried, accidents could happen and be explained away... but secrets once let out were impossible to keep.

Better for them all then that Asch seem a cold heartless bastard and refuse to take the child in then. As Van continued to harp about the responsibilities of his rank and how a squire could be useful Asch set his gaze carefully at the point above Van's head. He watched the bushy tuft of hair that topped Van's head rise and fall with each nod or headshake... Van had his back to two massive windows. They depicted scenes out of the church's history, one was cast in dark hues to depict some scene at night, and the other was cast in light blues to show the beauty of day. Both were gaudy atrocities that begged to have a rock applied to them. Asch had secretly wondered if his master's desk was turned in such a way on purpose. With his back to the sacred images Van wouldn't have to look upon them. As the lecture went on -and Asch's attention wandered- the stain glass murals lost their fine edges. They became blurs of gaudy color streaked with lead lines that swam in his vision. He blinked in pain from the direct sunlight that stabbed into his eyes, and when he did so multicolored blurs flashed into being behind the darkness of his eyes.

Realizing that his pupil's attention had been wandering, and was going to do so again if he didn't take some proactive steps, Van lifted his hand and smashed his fist into the wooden desk before him. Both child and Cantor hopped in fright. Seeing that he had Asch's undivided attention Van allowed himself a small growl of displeasure.

"As I was saying, appearances must be maintained. You will take in a servant, and it will be sanctioned by the church. I'll hear no arguments about it. If I must I shall remind you exactly what I can and will do if you defy me in this."

Ignoring the threat Asch allowed his lips to curl into a sneer. "Like how you, "took in" Legretta? Was that sanctioned by the church my lord? Does the Fon Master perhaps sanction what you do at night with her? Or does the hypocritical Holy Mother turn a blind eye to your pleasures like-"

Van shot from his chair. The savage snarl that distorted his normally placid expression was a perfect match for his equally savage attire. The silver quills that jutted from the Commandant's robes were reminiscent of a wolf's scruff roused in aggression. The Commandant's powerful hands clenched into fists, his shoulders were stiffened with outrage, and his teeth were bared like fangs.

Still despite his half mad show of rage the Commandant's tone was smooth, cool….

"I advise you, Cantor Sahguin, to watch your tongue."

"Don't ever think you have the right to tell me what to do Commandant Fende." Asch countered hotly, meeting Van's ice with fire. His own hands clenched into fists so tight they hurt.

A gasp from the boy, all but forgotten in the heat of their fight, suddenly drained Asch's rage. A chill filled him, his face probably went pale as he realized… As if aware that he'd drawn such deadly attention to himself the boy raised a hand to his mouth as if to catch the gasp, but the damning sound had already been made. Recognition was in that noise, the boy knew the name Fende, and in knowing that he knew too much. Asch's hands unclenched, they ached, abysmally, but that pain was nothing to the agony that flared in his breast.

Ever the coward Asch bowed his head and closed his eyes. Van's booted feet clicked against the smooth wooden floors; there was a familiar hiss of a sword sliding out of its sheath.

"Please… my Lord. I'm sorry… really I am! I won't tell a soul! I swe-"

The boy managed a gurgled cry, and then there was a dull thump of the body striking the floor.

"You are upset, uncomfortable, with both your new rank and with the duties that are required of you to maintain this rank." Van's voice purred in the darkness of Asch's scrunched up eyes. "You will become more at ease with it as time goes on I assure you."

Red fell, dribbled down the edge of a ceremonial blade, onto the ever widening pool at a child's feet. Though he didn't open his eyes Asch could see it. He'd seen enough people die by now, the scene was hauntingly the same.

"Our cause is greater than one life, no matter if it's an innocent, no matter if it's a child. Remember that always, hold to our goals… and the Score, Lorelie, both will fall before you. I promise. Your suffering will end, the force that lead to your dethronement, he will fall, I swear it."

He's already fallen, though those around him hadn't seen it yet. Swallowing back a bitter substance that could only be bile, Asch opened his eyes. Van had thoughtfully cleaned the edge of his blade on a clean span of the child's tabard.

"Possession… Heresy…" Van mused to himself, staring at the still form in its widening crimson pool. "Those charges will excuse me. You should leave though; I can explain my actions to the council and Fon Master if I am alone…"

But not if there was another, that would lead to complications.

As Asch made to leave Van's voice followed him out.

"It was wrong for me to decide this for you. Pick a child on your own then, have him serve you. It will make things easier on the long run Asch. I promise you that."

Biting back a stinging rebuttle, choking on a tearful protest, Asch forced his face to relax into it's customary blank mask. A poker face, those who'd seen it would have called it... Save that gambling was forbidden within the order of Lorelie.

All was, after all, predetermined. The Score saw to that. There was no chance, no change, humanity wound it's way on the sole path to a greater glory. And it descended into the depths of it's own hell, all without a word of protest, all because an abstract promise of prosperity.

Sparing a glance at the child whose name he didn't even know, whose blood he had to step around, Asch wondered: Was this predetermined too? This death, this long path of unbroken betrayal?

Those empty eyes, wide with horror, they followed him out. And from that gaping mouth that now screamed eternally without sound Asch found his answer.

The Score offers guarantees, but there are no guarantees in life. All promises were lies, all oaths at best hopeful illusion.

Therefore like his Master's parting promise, the Score, was little more than a hollow lie.