Chapter 10: Scum of the Earth
On the night of the day that she had banished Bastian, a visitor entered Elincia's room without knocking. She had sent the soldiers guarding her door away so that the man would not be seen by anyone (they had protested, but obeyed). He softly closed the door behind him and walked up to Elincia who was sitting on a chair facing the entrance, trying to recreate the atmosphere of her throne room to ease her strained nerves. The man walked in complete silence (admittedly, the thick carpet made it easy) until he came to a halt five feet before Elincia.
"Thank you for coming," the Queen of Crimea said, although she had dared to hope, until the moment the door handle was pressed down, that the visitor would never arrive, finding better things to do on his way to her. But Volke was nothing if not reliable, and so he had followed the instructions of the hand-written note that Elincia had slipped under the door of his guest room earlier. Meet me in my room at dusk. E.
"I assume it's something important," Volke said curtly. His tone suggested that if it was not something important, he would be out of the room as swiftly as he had entered.
"Well, first of all, I wanted to thank you for capturing that man... that Izuka. If he truly holds the key to my uncle's condition–"
"Your payment reached me earlier this evening," the self-styled fireman interrupted her. "I don't need your gratitude as well." He turned to leave.
"Wait, that's not all!" Elincia's outcry stopped Volke momentarily, but she knew she had to tell him why she had called him, or he would surely leave. The problem was that she desperately wished to avoid telling him.
I made my decision earlier, now I must act on it! Beating around the bush isn't going to make it any easier!
"I want to hire you." There. It was out.
Oh, nonsense. I haven't even said anything yet.
But her words were enough to return Volke's attention to Elincia. "I'm listening."
Elincia took a deep breath and looked the assassin in the eyes. "As you know, I have banished former Count Bastian from Crimea today."
"I was there."
He means: "Don't tell me things I already know. It's a waste of my time."
"What... what do you think about that?"
"Me?" Volke raised an eyebrow. "What do you care?" When Elincia did not react to that, he shrugged and answered: "I suppose that now he'll have to pay traveling expenses in addition to my fee whenever he hires me." Elincia let out a short laugh. "So you do have a sense of humor."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was completely serious."
Well, I shouldn't expect a man who murders others for a living to be particularly merry.
"The fact that you mention Bastian probably means that my job has something to do with him," Volke said when Elincia did not talk for a few seconds, preferring to play with her hair and look at the floor. "Although I wonder what..." He suddenly frowned and eyed Elincia more intensely. She tried to match his gaze, but could not, and continued staring at the floor again.
"You don't mean to say that my target is..." Volke left the rest of the sentence in the air, and Elincia was almost grateful for it. That means I don't have to actually say it.
Oh, what a hypocrite I am! Saying or not saying it makes no difference at all!
"As expected, you can add two and two," Elincia said haughtily. "Not surprising for someone who has to count as much gold as you do." Right now, she hated herself so much that she simply had to lash out at someone, and Volke was the only available candidate. Fortunately for her, he was most likely a stranger to the concept of ' being offended'.
"Count me surprised," the grey-clad assassin said after having his suspicion confirmed. "I think I misjudged you when I first met you three years ago."
"Oh no, Volke, you judged me correctly," Elincia said. "But I have changed since then."
"It happens to people." For a moment, there seemed to be a hint of sympathy in Volke's voice, but Elincia was sure she was mistaken. "So, will you do it?" she asked with a heavy heart.
"Hm." Volke put his hand to his mouth and drew on an imaginary pipe. "A difficult decision."
"Don't tell me you're having scruples," Elincia said with a very short and very false laugh.
"Oh, silly." For a split second Volke smirked. "No, it's just that Bastian hires me often and always pays on time. There'd be huge hidden opportunity cost in taking him out."
I can't believe that we're actually talking about this! I can still send him away! I have to!
But Elincia did not send Volke away.
"I understand your concerns," she said instead, although she could not truly claim to understand how Volke's mind worked. "But consider that I may offer you other..." She gulped and closed her eyes for a second. "...employment opportunities in the future." Why was she using these euphemisms? "The coffers of Crimea are greater than those of Fayre."
"You're appealing to my greed. I like that. But are you willing to back up your words with coin?"
"State your prize, assassin."
"One hundred thousand," Volke said after a moment's thought.
"Accepted," Elincia said curtly, without showing a second of hesitation. It was a ridiculous sum, but she knew she would pay a far greater price for Volke's 'job' than mere gold. And besides, she had impounded Bastian's considerable family fortune earlier today. In a manner of speaking, he would be paying for his own assassination. The thought made her shudder.
Goddess, what have I become?
"I'll get to work then," Volke said calmly, as if he had been tasked with swatting a fly. "Have the money ready by the time I return." Again he turned to leave, and again Elincia's outcry stopped him.
"Wait!"
"What now?" This time, he spoke without turning around.
"Don't you... want to know why?"
Now he did turn around, and he bore a confused expression. "What 'why'?"
"Why I want to... why you..." She could not bring herself to say it. Volke looked at her quizzically and asked: "Is there a need for me to know? I wouldn't think so..."
"No," Elincia said, "it's just..." She did not continue. Why did she want him to ask? She was not sure herself.
"Ah, I see," Volke said, his voice strangely understanding. "You want to ease your conscience by telling me." She nodded in confirmation. Yes, that's probably what it is.
"It's a common thing with first-time employers," Volke said casually. "They desperately want to justify themselves." He gave her a semblance of a grin. "They seem to believe that I will think less of them if I don't know their motives. What nonsense."
What he said made sense to Elincia. After all, this was far from his first... 'job', and the stories of desperate self-justification probably all sounded the same to him by now. "Will you listen, anyway?" she asked.
"Five thousand," he replied at once. "Ten thousand if you start crying during your tale."
Once again, Elincia had to laugh at Volke's black humor-that-wasn't-humor. Oh yes, she was going to cry. She could already feel it...
"You really dislike human interaction, don't you?"
"I have my reasons." He shrugged. It was a casual shrug, but those often hid the deepest secrets.
" I wonder how much gold I would have to pay to hear these reasons," Elincia said idly. She was surprised when in response, Volke threw back his head and laughed.
"That prize is beyond the reach of just one kingdom. The gold of all of Tellius would barely be enough for me to reveal my... my story." He shook his head and his laughter turned into chuckling. "Ask me again when you've conquered the continent."
"I have no intention of conquering–" Elincia protested, but Volke cut her short.
"Of course not. No conqueror ever admits that."
"Is that really what you see in me?" she leaned forward in her chair, aghast that Volke would call her something like that. "A conqueror?"
A murderer, surely. There can be no denying that after tonight. But a conqueror... that's what Ashnard was, and I have not sunk that low!
"I think you could be one," Volke nodded. "Call it a gut feeling."
"You don't strike me as a man with gut feelings," Elincia said, desperate to turn the conversation away from herself. "Or any feelings, for that matter." When Volke did not react to this slight, she could only shake her head. "I think the only way for you to be offended would be if somebody paid you for it."
"We all have our buttons," Volke said mysteriously. "It's just that nobody has ever pushed mine. But you wanted to talk about your motives."
"I changed my mind," Elincia said quickly, because she feared what other things Volke might see in her if they talked long enough. He was an expert in depravity, and she was not eager to hear a more extensive assessment of her character out of his mouth. "I don't want to talk anymore."
"Suits me," Volke said. Then, after a few seconds of waiting: "Then I'll be off now." He turned around and made for the door, but stopped before he had reached it and turned around one last time. "Ah, I almost forgot. What kind of proof do you want? Head only, or the whole body?"
"I... I..." Elincia suddenly felt sick. "Whatever works for you," she said and waved the assassin away. She watched him shrug and leave her room, closing the door behind him.
It is done. She buried her head in her palms, but that only made her angry at herself. I'm feeling self-pity, after what I just did? She clenched her hands into fists and dug her fingernails deep into her palms. Pathetic.
"But I never asked to be a murderer," she said to herself. "Just as I never asked to be a queen. Why do I have to go through this?" But there was nobody with her to answer that question.
Lucia, are you watching me from somewhere? If so, you must be disgusted with me. But for the good of Crimea, I must sacrifice Bastian as I have sacrificed you.
"Sacrificed!" Elincia spat on the carpet. "That's not the right word! It should be 'murdered'!" She walked in front of the room's mirror and stared at her reflection as she had done yesterday night in the royal villa. Back then, her self-pity might have been justified, but not now. The hideous figure in the mirror was worthy of nothing but contempt. She grabbed her nail file, put it against her forehead, and considered scratching the word 'murderer' into her skin.
Please forgive me, Bastian! I do not deserve it, but please forgive me, I beg of you!
She threw the nail file against the mirror, making an ugly crack in the glass. Stupid! If Volke does his job right, he won't even realize what's going on before... before...
With an anguished wail, Elincia threw herself on her bed and sobbed, sobbed until her eyes hurt and her pillow was drenched. Then she dragged her blanket over her head and whimpered silently, like a little girl, for somebody to come and help her. Somebody to make her forget the terrible thing she had done. Somebody to hold her and tell her that it was all right.
"Geoffrey!"
Without thinking, Elincia leapt out of her bed and staggered toward the door, her vision so blurry from the tears that she had to feel her way with both arms. She found the door, and an instant later, she was standing in the hallway, which was thankfully still devoid of guards as per her earlier directive. Geoffrey's room was on the other end of the hallway, only a few dozen feet away, and yet she tripped twice on her way there, the second time falling flat on her face. But Elincia paid no attention to the pain as she struggled to her feet and continued on her way, so desperate was she to throw herself into the arms of the only person who would accept her unconditionally. Without encountering another soul, she reached the door of Geoffrey's room and knocked meekly.
Please don't be away, Geoffrey! I need you now! Please!
"Come in."
Elincia did not try to wipe her face dry, or hide the tell-tale signs of her despair: Not only would it have been futile, she also knew that she could not hide her feelings from Geoffrey. All she did was wipe her eyes dry so that she would at least be able to properly see him and entered the room.
Geoffrey was sitting on his bed with his sword lying on his knees and an oil-smeared piece of cloth in his hand when she entered. No doubt he had been wiping the blade clean, even though it was probably not even dirty, diligent to a fault in all things.
"Elincia!" he said and put the sword down at once. "How can I– " He stared at her with his mouth open. "What happened?"
"Geoffrey!" Elincia cried and flung herself at him, taking even a battle-hardened veteran such as him by surprise. "Oh Geoffrey, please help me. Please!" She wrapped her arms around his back and pressed her face against his chest. Again she started sobbing and was surprised that she even had any tears left to shed. "I can't go on anymore!" she cried weakly.
"Elincia, please calm down!" Geoffrey tried to stand up and pull her along with him, but she dragged him down with all her strength. "Don't!" she cried fearfully. "Don't push me away!"
"I'm not pushing you... Elincia, please tell me what's going on!" He gently put his hands against her cheeks and tried to make her raise her head. Confusion was written all over his face, as was fear: Fear of what had reduced his queen to a sobbing shadow of a woman.
I mustn't tell him! Elincia thought feverishly. She had not consulted with Geoffrey before making her vile decision – that would only have sullied his hands, too. No matter what happened, he must never learn of what she had done today, or he would never look at her again with anything but contempt.
"Geoffrey," she cried again and put her trembling hands against his cheeks. His skin was rough with stubble, but warm: It was the first time she had felt warmth after her life had been irrevocably changed three days ago, and she was not going to let him go. "I need you," she said and caressed his cheeks. "Please, be there for me."
"I'm always there for you," Geoffrey said, clearly uncomfortable with her touch. "But if you don't tell me what happened, then I can't help you!"
"But you can," Elincia said and pressed her lips against his. She had never done that before, but every fiber of her weary body screamed at her to do it. Geoffrey's eyes widened when she kissed him, but he did not push her away, and that was already enough. She stroked his hair with one hand and slipped the other under his shirt and against his she allowed herself to drown in his clear, blue eyes.
Even in her condition, Elincia was queen enough to know that what she was doing was beyond inappropriate, but she did not care: She needed somebody to drive out the feelings of disgust and hatred against herself, to affirm that she was still a human being, capable of love and not only depravity. And Geoffrey was the only one who could do this for her.
"Elincia!" His voice reached her as through a strong haze. "Elincia, stop this! Please!"
"What are you saying?" she murmured. Her voice sounded like that of a woman in trance, but she saw nothing wrong with that. "Don't you want this, too?"
"Elincia, get a hold of yourself!" Again Geoffrey tried to rise from his bed, and this time, she could not hold him down: She was pulled up along with him, clutching his chest, and felt an onset of anxiety. Was he trying to push her away after all? No, surely not Geoffrey!
"Please don't talk," she whispered and attempted to pull him back toward the bed, but he stood firm and immovable like an oak. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Do you hate me?"
"Hate you?" Geoffrey shook his head in shock. "Elincia, I... I love you, in every meaning that the word could possibly have." He looked surprised at his own confession, but he did not retract it. "If... if you had... approached me under other circumstances, then I would be honored to..." His words trailed off as he looked at the floor, embarrassed. "But not like this!" He seized her shoulders and shook them while looking intently in her eyes. "I don't know what happened to you, but you are not of sound mind!"
"Please don't talk," Elincia begged. She knew that this was not how she was supposed to sound, but she could not help it. "Please, love me!" she cried and tried to embrace Geoffrey again, but he kept her at an arm's distance.
"That would not help you," he said firmly. "It would weaken you. And weakening you is the only thing I will never do."
Elincia heard his words, but she did not understand them. Why was he pushing away? Why was he saying he loved her, yet refused to love her? Could it be that...
"You know!" she cried out and tore herself away from Geoffrey, crashing backwards into a table. "You know!" He made a step toward her, talked to her, but she did not understand a word and moved backwards toward the door. Somehow, he had learned about Bastian!
It must be my face! Oh goddess, it must have written 'guilt' all over it!
I'm sure everybody can see it written there, not just Geoffrey...
Murderer!
With a shriek, Elincia turned around and fled Geoffrey's room, barging toward her own room as fast as she could, covering her face with her hands as she ran. She had no idea what she was going to do now, but she had to get away from Geoffrey, away from everyone who would lay eyes on her.
"Elincia!" Geoffrey's hushed voice sounded behind her. "Stop! Please!" But she did not stop: She ran into her room, slammed the door shut behind her and turned the key, threw herself on her bed and crawled under the blanket. "Go away," she whispered, although she knew that Geoffrey could not hear it even it he was standing right outside her room. "Please go away. Go away..." She heard Geoffrey knock against the door and call her name, but she covered her ears until the sounds stopped, until he was sure that he had given up.
I am so vile that even Geoffrey rejected me, she told herself in the darkness beneath the blanket. And rightly so! He's a virtuous knight! He should have nothing to do with someone as base and ignoble as me, who threw herself at him like a harlot, her hands red with blood! It would be better for him if he never looked at me again! It would be better for him if I just died!
It would be better for everyone if I just died!
Elincia had a sudden vision of herself impaled on Amiti, the world rid of her and she rid of the world. But as appealing as that vision was, she could not make it come true: Her sword was not in this room, and nothing on earth would be able to make her open the door and face Geoffrey again. She could not even pick up her nail file from the floor and slit her wrists, because that would have required her to crawl out of her hiding place under the blanket, and that was not something she could do right now.
Too vile to live, too pathetic to die. I hate myself.
I hate myself.
In the darkness of her hiding place, Elincia repeated that thought until merciful sleep granted her oblivion.