Vocabulaire:
1. Crossroads college(s) – Gathering places for the associations of men/women who are tasked with protecting crossroads or intersections of Rome's avenues. The crossroads were held to be a sacred place, and frequented by supernatural energies such as that of the goddess Hecate, so the Romans paid great attention to their care. The members of crossroads colleges were from the lower classes, and often formed (fairly violent) gangs or fraternities.
2. In absentia (concerning election) – Literally "in one's absence". It was sometimes allowed by Roman law for a politician to be a candidate for the curule elections without being present in the city itself to file nomination personally, which was the norm.
Inter Nos
par ethnewinter
"Did you get taller overnight, or is it my imagination?"
Nao's companion smiled, saying nothing to the grudgingly-delivered compliment. The redhead pressed a temple with her fingers and winced.
"On second thought, I think it's just my hangover," she said, straightening her posture with a groan. "Cack! My head feels like it's got something banging inside it. Shouldn't have drunk so much last night."
The woman walking beside her held out a skin of water. She took it gratefully.
"Thanks, Sakaki," she said, after downing a swig of the beverage. "Do you have a handy hammer for my noggin too?"
Argus's captain of the guard smiled at her jest, taking back the water-skin.
"Do you want to sit down?" the tall woman asked, slowing her steps to look at Nao with concern. "We can stop here."
Nao waved her hand dismissively.
"No, it's fine," she insisted, peering up to look at the soft, dark eyes focused on her. She grit her teeth and continued speaking, trying to ignore the fact that her tongue felt as though it were made of lead. "Best we get there before they start cleaning it up."
Sakaki nodded, her tail of dark hair rippling. They wrapped their cloaks more firmly about them and continued.
The two were on their way to the site of the latest Mentulaean murder, which had just been reported that morning. The actual crime seemed to have taken place the previous night. Having given instructions to be alerted instantly in such an event, Nao had been dragged out of a very comfy bed by a relentless Erstin, who had then presented the groggy primipilus to Argus's embarrassed garrison commander. After a quick recapitulation of the situation, the two officers found themselves as they were now: passing through the city's streets in general silence.
To be sure, it was not that either woman was uncomfortable with the other. They had actually known each other for a while, owing to their connections in the military. The silence was caused, rather, by two things: first, by the red-headed centurion's monumental headache, and second, by the other soldier's legendary tendency to silence—one which, in Nao's opinion, rivalled that of Shizuru Fujino's bodyguard. Who would have known that there were two Sphinxes to be found in the North? And as luck would have it, she got to meet both of them!
She smiled sarcastically. At least the Sphinx she had with her now was a little better in that respect than the general's, as far as she was concerned. After all, Sakaki always did reply if someone asked her a question, whereas her Otomeian equivalent usually manoeuvred to give an answer without even having to open her mouth. Nao supposed that might count as a talent in itself. Still, it never ceased to astound her how the general had ever managed to put up with that overdone closemouthedness. She supposed that kind of patience was a talent as well.
And speaking of the talented general...
She slowed her steps when she saw the very woman in the distance, walking as usual beside her Sphinx. They were ambling along slowly and, Nao guessed, were headed to the barracks. She called Sakaki to a stop.
"Sakaki, you mind if we take a detour?" she asked. "I want to introduce you to Shizuru-san and her pup."
She looked up to find the other woman's face lit up with a curious expression. Sakaki looked oddly enthusiastic.
"The general has a puppy too?" the taller woman suddenly asked, with excitement trembling in her voice. "I heard she keeps a panther. That's nice. It's unusual, isn't it?"
She smiled eagerly, like a child looking forward to being given a treat.
"So where are they?" she asked.
Nao slapped her head inwardly as she realised what had set the quiet woman rambling. She had almost forgotten about Sakaki's curious weakness for—what was the word? Oh, yes: small things.
I better tell her now before she becomes too giddy, she sighed, flapping her cloak loose from the tangle around her legs into which the wind had blown it. I don't think I can handle seeing that sort of let-down face in someone this grown.
"No, it's not a dog," she explained, hitting one aching shoulder with a fisted hand. "Though you can still call it a pet, I think." She smirked at her companion. "And it's the one who owns the panther."
Sakaki looked, she was entertained to see, extremely confused.
"Let's go. I'll introduce you."
She led the way and began pushing through denizens of Argus already milling about the street. As they made their way through, she found herself recalling Shizuru's instructions to her four days ago, when they had last seen each other. That was the time Nao's commander had asked her to inquire into the source of the Mentulaean killings in the province, for the sake of preventing any more.
"I want you to look into it for me, Nao-han," the fair-haired woman had instructed, not at all uncomfortable with engaging her primipilus for work outside of the army. She had met Nao this way, after all, while using Nao in the latter's original occupation as an intelligencer. "Try to find out who it is that can be considered the mastermind, or masterminds, as I expect. This is more the work of an organised group rather than one person."
"What am I allowed to do?"
"I should say the usual," came the answer. "Do what is necessary but handle it with the customary delicacy. You understand."
"Yes, I do."
"Then I shall leave this to you," Shizuru had smiled. "We would be better able to put a stop to these murders if you get information."
"I'll see to it right away," Nao had answered, before giving her meaningful look. "But say, I didn't expect you to worry your golden head about this, General."
It did not matter that they were acting technically outside of their military offices at the moment. She almost always called Shizuru "General", it being that she viewed her as the last commander she would ever take.
"Oh, why is that?" Shizuru had asked cheerfully. "Does that mean you think me generally unconcerned about lives being taken off the field, Nao-han? I would hate for you to see me as such an apathetic person."
The redhead had raised an eyebrow.
"'Course not," had been her reply. "What I mean is that even if it does lead to what the others are afraid of, it wouldn't be the end of the world for us, would it?"
The general's smile had widened. "It might even be the genesis, you mean?"
"That, yes."
"Well, that may be so," Shizuru had replied. "If the situation does end with that particular conclusion, it might even be to our advantage. But that is only as far as the conclusion is concerned. Stripped of its ramifications, it would be quite beneficial to us. But nothing is ever so straightforward."
Nao had cocked her head at this, putting the query to her general by non-vocal means. Shizuru had then folded her hands together above the table as she answered.
"Setting aside the moral question of whether or not it is proper to let possible innocents be killed, there are other things to consider," she had told Nao. "Such as the probability of similar things happening in the other provinces or allied towns in this area. Something this high-profile is bound to be sensationalised, and given the tension in the region at the moment, there is a danger that groups or people nearby shall emulate the measures our assassins have been taking towards preventing 'foreign spies'. We might have similar killings breaking out in Sosia, for example, and other places. Which would gravely escalate the situation with the Mentulae."
The centurion had flicked a glance towards Shizuru's bodyguard—standing at the other end of the room by the window—before replying.
"That's the point, I thought. For our campaign, anyway."
Shizuru had given her a nod.
"It is, yes," had been the answer. "But this particular route towards that point has attendant and unnecessary risks. Why hazard them when we shall soon arrive at our destination through a much better path, as our guides back in Hime shall be ensuring?"
"Please speak plain to me, General. I'm sorry, but you know I'm not good at this sort of talk."
"All right then," the younger woman had acquiesced, with a slight chuckle. "Allow me to state one of my reservations clearly: I do not want the murders to continue because Hime cannot lose the high ground in any respect when it comes to dealings with foreign nations. If an epidemic of Mentulaean deaths takes place in Himean provinces with Himeans being the prime suspects, that suspicion casts an ill light on Hime in any war that might result from the epidemic. And more fool us if a war does result from this pitiful display of fearfulness by our citizens!"
"When the war does come—and it shall come, civilian killings or not," she had continued. "It will not be said that Hime brought it upon herself by condoning such atrocities by her citizens. It will not be said that Hime allowed people to be executed merely on grounds of paranoid distrust. That would make us appear such a lawless nation, with authorities seemingly willing to look away and pandering to common opinion." She had held out her hands. "It would tarnish the name of Hime."
"Hang the tarnish," Nao had replied. "That doesn't matter a fig when the war's come, I'd think."
"I beg to differ, Nao-han," Shizuru had replied. "It matters a great deal. One might even say it is everything that matters. It, Nao-han, is Hime."
She stopped then and had cast Nao a brief, but intense look.
"We would do well not to forget that," she had concluded.
And that, Nao thought, means that no-one else will be forgetting it either. Once Shizuru Fujino made up her mind about something, Nao had learned, it was usually decided. There was nothing left for her but to follow orders. Besides, while she was not sure she understood her general's argument about Hime's honour, she did understand the other reason the younger woman had given, which was to protect the Argus governor's reputation. If the killings eventually led to race wars in the city, as was possible, then it was likely that the outcome would be blamed largely on Governor Midori, who would then be accused of having "let" the situation go unheeded.
"And she would then be another innocent victim," Shizuru had told her, before flashing a humorous grin and saying: "Besides which, that would steal my thunder. If war against the Mentulae is blamed on Midori-han, what about poor, answerable me? I would hate to be cheated of my credit where it is due."
Typical crazy patrician, Nao thought now, sniggering at the recollection of those words. Were she to be honest, she sometimes felt this way about more than a few of Shizuru's actions. True, they often produced excellent results, but they also managed to baffle her greatly before that. And given the general's typical manner of delivery, you never knew whether she was serious or not. One did not have a bastard clue what the woman would do next, and Nao always felt that serving her was like riding a cyclone out at sea.
She grinned when she saw the force of nature herself pause at a shop display and lift an elaborate dress from the pile to hold up to her bodyguard. The latter blushed so wildly it was perceptible even from the distance.
I'll be damned if it isn't an interesting ride, though, she thought, waving a hand.
"Hey there, General! Good day, good day!"
The two women looked her way, Shizuru breaking out into a wide smile. A few moments later, both pairs of women were close enough to exchange greetings.
"Good morning, Nao-han," Shizuru said, still holding the garment she had picked up. She folded it over one arm. "And to you, Sakaki-han. We have yet to be introduced properly, I believe."
"That's why we came here," Nao said. "This is General Shizuru Fujino, Sakaki. And the one I was telling you about is this other one over here. Natsuki's her name and she's a cavalry captain. Otomeian stock."
Sakaki gave the standard expression of pleasure at the introductions, whereas Shizuru smiled broadly yet again.
"I am honoured to meet you as well, Sakaki-han," she said. "I have heard of you, after all, from your old commanders." Up came the light eyebrows, wiggling curiously. "Now if I may ask, what has Nao-han been saying about Natsuki?"
Nao answered before the other woman could. She highly doubted Sakaki would have answered coherently enough, anyway.
"Just saying that she's the one who actually owns that black cat you have, General," she said. "Sakaki likes animals, especially cats."
"Oh, is that so?"
Sakaki nodded.
"Then perhaps you would like to see little Shizuki one of these days. She may do that, right, Natsuki?"
Natsuki nodded.
"There," Shizuru said warmly. "Come and see us sometime, Sakaki-han. Natsuki may even let you play with Shizuki, I am certain."
This time, both Sakaki and Natsuki nodded.
"Jupiter," Nao muttered under her breath. "Talk of the Sphinxes riddling."
Sakaki foiled the effect the next second, however, by speaking to Shizuru.
"Thank you," she said, in an absurdly soft voice. "I'd like that."
"Think nothing of it," Shizuru replied, before slanting her head slightly at the two primipilii. "May I inquire where you are headed today? Could it have to do with the Mentulaean killed last night?"
"Right you are, General," Nao answered. "Off to see if I can pick up any clues there before they sweep it away." She sniffed the air, the smell of salt tickling her nostrils. It was not a scent she disliked. "I'm hoping our men got careless this time around."
"If that is your objective you might do well to hurry." Shizuru squinted at the sky. "Given the time the murder happened, the 'sweeping' might be underway already."
"Which is why we'll be going now," the red-headed centurion answered with a jaunty grin, already beginning to move off. "You'd better get a move on too, General, before the crowds come into the streets. Going to the barracks later to check their drilling again?"
"Yes," Shizuru said. "Happy hunting, Nao-han."
She looked at Sakaki, who was following Nao.
"You too, Sakaki-han," she said. "It was good to meet you."
Both primipilii saluted, then walked off into the crowd. Shizuru watched their backs until her view of them was obscured by a passing wagon. She then turned again to her bodyguard.
"Now one more time," she said with comic abruptness. "Are you sure you would not like something like it?"
She held up the dress that had been folded on her arm, amused by the backwards jerk that brought from her startled companion. Natsuki shook her head vigorously, which she had expected from the time she had first come up with the idea to tease the girl with the overly flamboyant, fabric-flower-bedecked garment in her hands. She pretended disappointment.
"I see," she said, returning the dress to its place and thanking the merchant with a nod before starting off again. The other followed her with an awkward start. "Well, I confess I did not care that much for the design. But still a pity! The colour itself was perfect. It was a perfect match for your blush."
She slid her gaze sideways, chuckling at the girl's pout.
"Now that I think on it, Natsuki, perhaps we should have some breakfast first," she said, a hand reaching to enclose the one swaying nearby. "It was silly of us to leave without having any. Shame on me if I let my dearest girl starve! No, do not worry, we can afford to stop a while—my business with the officers can wait, and they know what to do even without me overseeing them." She felt a slight pressure against her hand. "Shall we get some food here? I rather like seeing what markets have in the way of food sometimes."
Natsuki nodded.
"If you want," the girl said.
"I do, actually." Shizuru placed a hand on the cloth above her stomach. "I am very hungry, to tell you the truth. Let this be a reminder to me never to break my mother's rule."
"Rule?"
"Never to miss breakfast," she explained. "She would have scolded me, had she been here today. I fear to say she was rather a terror, Mater was."
Natsuki looked entertained by that. Meanwhile, the older woman looked around and searched for possible places from which to get them some nourishment. She then saw something a little along the path: a small, roadside cart like the ones in Hime, where grilled meats and warm wine could be bought. Smoke was rising invitingly from the charcoal fire beside it, and the familiar sight brought a rumble to her belly.
"Would you like to try that?" she asked, pointing to it. "I remember we used to stop by those in Hime and eat the fare in the open air afterwards. My friends and I used to do it all the time, when we were doing our apprenticeships at the law courts. Oh, unless you feel too cold—"
"No," Natsuki said, cutting her off. "Let us try. That."
They made their way over. After a purchase of two cups of warmed and spiced wine and four sticks heavy with hot chunks of skewered meat and vegetables, the pair went to sit at a bench beside a tree, off the road. The bench was adjacent to a stone wall, and they leaned their backs against this wall as they ate.
"I missed this," Shizuru said, after taking a bite of the savoury meat. "Do you like it, Natsuki?"
She turned her head to see the girl chewing. Natsuki nodded.
"I am glad," she said, bringing the skewer of food to her mouth for another bite. She paused, however, when she saw the younger woman do the same. The sight of Natsuki's mouth as it opened, the strong white teeth coming out to snag a piece of mushroom, reminded her suddenly of the time those same teeth had nipped at her in their quarters. Her cheeks warmed.
"Shizuru?"
That call snapped her back to the present, where Natsuki was studying her face with concern. She drew a sudden breath, realising that she had also frozen while holding the skewer of meat in the air. Her hand came down slowly.
"Something is wrong?" Natsuki asked. "Shizuru?"
"Oh, nothing, Natsuki," she answered quickly, giving the young woman a settling smile. "I was just thinking of something."
The emerald eyes continued to search her.
"Really," she insisted, reaching for the cup beside her. "Nothing to be concerned about."
She took a sip from the cup and smiled down at its contents.
"I fear the vintage is not as good as the venison, though," she remarked idly, eliciting a smile from the other woman. "Ah well. To be expected."
Having been reassured that her charge was well, Natsuki returned to her own food. Meanwhile, Shizuru regarded the waking city. It was a grey morning they faced, especially since the sun was hidden by great feathered clouds the colour of smoke. Even the cobblestones of the pavement were dark with moisture.
The mornings here must be damp regularly, Shizuru reflected, watching the people passing by. Most of them were garbed in thick, heavy cloaks and trousers. Some of them were even wearing cloaks similar to the Himean military's sagum, a waterproof, durable, and often somewhat smelly cloak worn by soldiers during rainy season. For all that this was a Himean city, she could hardly see anyone wearing the toga.
Well, I do not really expect anyone to, she thought. Having that big bolt of cloth festooned around you in this sort of weather can be taxing. And with the way the winds are blowing now, you would be fortunate if you do not find yourself blown all the way to Hime, with your toga for a sail.
Her lip twitched at that ridiculous image.
"Shizuru?"
She regarded her companion, abandoning her outrageous fantasies of people being buffeted about in undone togas.
"Yes, Natsuki?"
"Are you..."
"Am I what?"
The wide green eyes looked at her: "Are you thinking of the, um, the deaths?"
"Deaths?" she echoed quietly, before realising what the girl meant. "Oh. The murdered Mentulae?"
"Mmm."
"No, not really," she said, letting the now-bare stick in her hand fall onto the ground to join its fellow. "Is that what you thought?"
Natsuki shrugged. Shizuru picked up her cup again and cradled it in her hands, enjoying the warmth.
"What about you?" she asked. "Were you thinking about it, Natsuki?"
There was a short silence before the girl finally nodded.
"Ah. And what, precisely, were you thinking about it?"
Natsuki hesitated.
"I would like to know."
"I, umm..."
"Go on, I shall not bite," Shizuru prodded her, amused. "Unless you want me to."
The girl scowled at the taunt, her blush lending more colour to Shizuru's day.
"About that," the girl said. "Why do you want to stop it? Or them?"
The older woman's eyes widened a fraction.
"Well, for one thing," she said, "because they are killing innocent people."
Natsuki knitted her brow.
"No," was her answer. "Yes, but, um… Ah, like the primipilus said. What she said."
And a second later, she added: "Last time you talked."
Shizuru peered at her.
"Oh, that," she said. "So you remember what we talked about, Nao-han and I?"
A nod.
"So you should have heard my reasons for that, already."
A slower nod.
"But," the girl said quietly. "That. Is that all?"
The general could not suppress her smile.
"Is Natsuki accusing me of withholding information from my trusted subordinate?" she asked with false sternness. She immediately dropped her act, however, when her bodyguard reacted by dropping her head and stuttering out apologies.
"No, not that. I do not—I—I beg pardon, Shizuru."
"Oh, it's all right, Natsuki," the Himean said, cutting her off with a smile. "It's all right, really. I was merely jesting. I should be the one apologising to you for teasing so. And yes, you are correct. I did not explain myself fully last time, I think. Would you like me to?"
From the corner of her eye, she perceived the other woman nodding demurely.
"Only if you want," Natsuki told her. "I do not mind to listen. If you do not mind to talk?"
"I do not mind," Shizuru answered, looking out at the street again to avoid looking at the temptation next to her. Argus was now a little busier, with more market-goers and carts clacking over the cobbles. She could see the gateposts marking the beginning of the market proper ahead, just a few metres away.
"Now then, let me see," she began. "You already heard most of my arguments to Nao-han, correct? That it would reflect badly upon Hime, for instance?"
Natsuki nodded.
"But I did not explain the more practical side of the problem, did I?"
The younger woman hesitated.
"Practical?" she said. "For the governor, is it?"
"Oh, no, not that—though that is a practical matter, as you say," Shizuru answered. "I meant, rather, the concrete tactical disadvantage it might bring about in the coming war."
"Oh," Natsuki replied, perking up with curiosity. "No."
"Then let us take that up," Shizuru told her. "I would say preventing the killings and continuing to admit eligible Mentulae into the territories is a tactical move at this point. In other words, I am against undue aggression to them."
"Even if they could be spies?"
"Even then," Shizuru affirmed quietly. "It is a gamble for us, yes, as we may stand to harbour a few spies within our provinces this way, but Hime's military is hardly so pitiful an organisation that it cannot weather the effect of such infiltration. There are structures and defences within the system that provide for this possibility, as should be expected from a nation that has schools famous for producing intelligencers. Knowing best how to carry out such reconnaissance, it only follows that we also know best how to defend ourselves against it, don't you think so?"
The green eyes were focused sharply on her now, shining with acute interest.
"Now this is what I meant by it being a tactical matter," she continued, pleased with the attention. "There are many Mentulaeans already scattered around the northern territories. Some of them are mere travellers, some are immigrants. Some are even no longer legally Mentulaean, having gained the Himean rights one way or another. Whatever the case, it is a fact that we cannot simply exile them from our provinces or those of our allies in some haphazard expulsion. This goes, particularly, for those who have already settled down in these territories. In other words, it is impossible to grant what the ones ordering the killings are demanding: a total ban on those of Mentulaean origin or blood."
Natsuki made a slight movement with her head.
"But," she said, "only so far as war is not yet."
The older woman nodded.
"Yes, that is so—as far as the non-immigrant Mentulae are concerned," she said. "But if they are immigrants, or ones who have the necessary papers and settlement records already, then they shall not be subject to the prohibition in the event of war. That is only fair and reasonable, yes?"
Natsuki made a sound of agreement.
"This is where my concern enters," Shizuru continued. "You see, I fear that allowing the murders to continue would create potential spies or even outright enemies where there had been none before. I fear that the killings shall estrange the Mentulaeans living here, including those who never had any thoughts of actually supporting their nation of origin if war did happen. Why would they have such ideas, after all, when most of them have resettled here in order to escape the troubles they experienced under the aegis of their notoriously unstable king? Why would they betray the hand that has sheltered them thus far from that old horror?"
She lifted one hand then, and curled her fingers inward to make a fist.
"But if this very hand allows them to be slain like this—or, some might think, slays them itself," she went on, "it would be all too easy for them to consider actual defection. Why should they pledge loyalty to a nation that executes them simply due to suspicion? Why should they consider themselves part of our people when every 'true' Himean they pass on the street eyes them with clear distrust? It is difficult to feel loyalty for a nation that treats you so. It would not be long before they think to themselves: If you kill us due to this false suspicion anyway, we might as well live up to it."
Natsuki regarded her with firm attention, head nodding lightly.
"Do you see now, Natsuki?" Shizuru asked. "If these people—the Mentulaeans who have been living among us for a long time now—were actually made to feel alienated enough to become spies, they would be even more dangerous than any 'real spies' sent by the Mentulae at this moment."
Natsuki nodded again, but more briskly this time.
"Because..." she ventured. "Because they already know much."
"Exactly. And they already have connections, which would only be natural since they have lived in our midst for so long." She settled her cup on the bench, beside her. "It is not too difficult to imagine one of them using his or her knowledge of our cities to foment unrest among the populace, so as to give us internal problems during the war. And that would be much easier for them to do than for some Mentulaean newcomer sent recently for the purpose. Do you agree with me?"
"Mmm!"
Shizuru took up her cup again, studying the liquid within it as she spoke.
"Some might think the best way to prevent this is to simply do away with them all now, regardless of proof or actual evidence to justify it," she said. "But that is something only a reckless fool would do."
She looked Natsuki in the eyes and quirked a brow.
"I am not a fool, Natsuki," she said.
The girl grinned suddenly, surprising her a little.
"Are you reckless?"
Shizuru lifted an eyebrow at the question, trying not to smile.
Chikane Himemiya was late. She was on her way now to observe the Plebeian Tribunate's meeting from the Curia's steps along with the other patrician senators, but she knew that the said meeting should by now be nearly finished. The awareness of that probability did not spur her to walk any faster, however. She was not a woman who ever gave the appearance of rushing, even when by herself.
I do not expect anything much to happen today, at any rate, she consoled herself, smoothing down the front of her gold-embroidered toga. Her hand went further up by habit, fingers reaching for the shell pendant on her necklace. Almost immediately, her thoughts strayed to her wife, who was waiting for her at their villa.
Perhaps I should have stayed at home instead, if I was to be late anyway.
"Chikane-chan! Wait for me!"
The raven-haired woman stopped, swivelling on one heel to turn and look around. Her expression relaxed into a smile when she saw the man approaching, striding towards her in the corridor. She stood her ground and awaited him.
"Reito-kun, good day to you," she said while offering her hand in salute. "I should have known it was no other."
"Oh?" he replied upon reaching her. They clasped hands in a quick greeting. "Why is that, may I ask?"
"I can think of no-else in the Senate who would address me so loudly with so casual an honorific."
The Princeps Senatus grinned, his beautiful amber eyes twinkling: "And here I thought it was my inimitably manly voice that tipped you off, my dear."
"That was another indication, to be sure."
"Going to observe the meeting of the Plebeian Tribunate too?" he enquired. "You're quite late, Chikane."
"But still ahead of you, Princeps. By a few steps, to be precise," she rejoined. "Since it appears we have the same destination, shall we?"
He acquiesced with a gesture of his open hand and they set off again. She soon noticed that he was slowing his steps, however, and thus matched her stride with his. It was apparent that he wished to talk as they went along, and desired to do so in the privacy of the passageway where they now were.
"This is a providential encounter," he commenced, in earnest tones. "I've wanted to ask you something these past few days now, Chikane-chan, something that I'm sure a good many others would like to ask you as well."
"Oh dear," she said, lips twitching. "I fear I am already married, Reito-kun."
That caught him unawares. He dissolved into guffaws, clutching his mid-section.
"Heartbreaking as that is, I know where I have a chance and where I do not," he said later on. "Scarcely your type, am I?"
"I have heard it said that Reito Kanzaki is every woman's type."
"But it is also said that Chikane Himemiya is not every woman." He chuckled out the last dredges of laughter before dropping his voice again. "No, I meant to ask, actually, about your intended candidature... and why you have yet to announce it."
"Ah, that." A sigh escaped her lips. "Yes, it has seemed to slip my mind. So many things going on in the city these days, you see, that keep me occupied."
There was the slightest quirk of a brow as she added: "It makes me a little forgetful."
"Ah, so that's it," he said cheerfully. "May I ask what has caused this temporary amnesia? It is temporary, I hope?"
"Of course." She gave him her slow smile. "The physicians assure me it shall be gone in two weeks' time."
His eyes narrowed slightly at this response.
"Which would put your recovery right before election week, when Haruka-san should have returned," he noted quietly, before going on to cast a sharp glance at her. "Oh. I see."
He concluded: "You are sly, Chikane."
The indigo eyes opened wide for a moment, feigning an innocence that vanished swiftly as the urban praetor's lashes fluttered down in a smirk.
"Is that how you perceive me?" she asked with a touch of humour.
"Now, now, I do approve," he said. "It's a fine tactic—to make everyone expect it but to also continuously put off realising their expectations until the last minute. This should wear down any opposition you might still have to your candidature by the time your nomination does become official. That is the idea, isn't it?"
Her head tilted to one side before returning to its usual high carriage.
"It saves me a bit of trouble," she said gently. "This way, I do not have to constantly fend off any attempts to reverse the decision on Izumi-san's bill, which procured the opportunity for me to enter the elections so late in the game. Of course I could deal with any such attempt, but it would be wearisome."
"Yes, I see what you mean," he replied. "And you're correct, keeping them on edge for so long will sap their strength for the future. Even Haruka-san would be forced to meet the general resignation of the House to your candidature, if she does have any qualms about it. You save yourself a great deal of effort this way."
"That is my hope."
"A question, however."
"Yes?"
"I know almost every one of our peers is expecting you to run, even with your postponement of the official nomination," he started. "But what of the lower classes, Chikane-chan? Not all of them follow the games those in our strata engage in. Some, perhaps even most of them shall not be aware of the tenterhooks you have our fellow politicians hanging on. Granted, they don't and can't contribute votes. But I would have thought someone of your ilk would prefer to be a consul known and loved by the populace too, as such would certainly round out any truly good consulship nicely—despite and against the general disregard for the masses among our ranks. Having the people's support can be useful, demagogic though it sounds. Well, we see it in your best friend's case, do we not?"
"Oh, you have my agreement. Popular approbation can be a tool."
"Then is not waiting until your actual consulship to foster it a little bit of a gamble?"
"Princeps, have you ever known me to gamble?"
"No, but if you ever do I am certain you would play with something up your sleeve."
She laughed softly.
"You make me sound like an unsporting player," she said. "In any event, rest assured that there is no need to harbour anxiety over the lower classes. They are going to be very well-tended indeed."
"Now I see. Sending your agents among them already?"
"In a manner of speaking. You might say someone has been seeing to the roots of the popular grapevine for me, and quite skilfully too, I daresay. A person who promises to be a veritable master of managing the masses." Her lips turned up with feline satisfaction. "One may rest easy with such an ally."
"A fine resource to have, then," he said, intrigued. "May I be introduced to this potential demagogue, that I can have someone to turn to for similar matters should the need arise?"
She turned a highly amused face to him.
"My dear man, you have already been 'introduced to this potential demagogue'," she said. At his baffled expression, she hinted: "Who better to act as a liaison between the upper and lower classes than one with an eye the colour of the sky and another the colour of the earth?"
He stared at her.
"Edepol!" he exclaimed. "Urumi? You mean Urumi?"
She nodded in affirmation as they paused at the corner, the hallway leading to their destination just ahead. He shook his head in disbelief, still assimilating what she had just told him. Chikane made no secret of her amusement at his incredulity.
"I see this took you by surprise," she said equably. "Though I did not expect it to do so. One might have said it would be a natural inference given her actions of late, as well as her intentions for the future."
"Her intentions?"
"Has she not told you she plans to run for the Plebeian Tribunate, hence her request for a change of family and name? I thought she would have."
"Yes, actually. So she did," he said, giving her a helpless grin. "But I thought she was joking. She looked like she was joking. Another of her jokes, I thought!"
"In my experience, Urumi jests when she looks at her most serious."
"Agreed. But my, my!" He took a deep breath while reconciling himself to the notion. "So our little cousin is aiming to become a tribune-of-the-plebs, eh? And when does she plan to make this announcement?"
"I know not."
"Ah."
He shook his head in a final expression of disbelief and after having done so, resumed walking. She did the same.
"Still, Urumi getting involved with the lower classes..." He shot her a quick look. "Then, the rumours—has she really been dabbling with the crossroad colleges too?"
Chikane nodded. "She has a talent for dealing with them. Methinks she already has all the major ones under her direction, the scamp."
"Quite an achievement!" His forehead creased suddenly. "But isn't it dangerous? These mobs are made up of ruffians who deem themselves petty consuls of their territories, Chikane. Our cousin may be playing with fire. Remember what happened to Terauchi, the last man who thought the gangs under his control. Not a pretty end the man had."
"Terauchi, my dear man, was a consummate idiot," she retorted in her usual easy manner. "And whatever you may think of our cousin, she is most assuredly not that."
"It's hard to disagree when you put it that way."
"I put it simply, Reito-kun. No more than that."
They had almost reached the Curia's steps. Already he could see some senators there, observing the Plebeian Tribunate's meeting below them, and among those senators watching was a certain red-headed woman with whom he wished to speak.
"I think I had better save my reservations for another time," he ventured to his present companion. "We have reached our destination, and from what I can hear, they seem to be abuzz."
The two of them joined the others, who welcomed and made space for the new arrivals. Reito found himself standing beside the woman he had been looking at earlier—none other than the senator Mai Tokiha, who greeted him in an attitude as warm as her bright hair.
"I hoped you would come, Reito-san," she said, bestowing upon him a smile he found so dazzling that he was nearly blinded. "But you took a while, so I thought we wouldn't be seeing you today."
"Had I known you would be here, I might've come sooner," he replied, bringing an embarrassed blush to her cheeks. He enjoyed the moment, thoroughly pleased with what he had wrought. But then he remembered something—or rather, someone. "And Tate? Is he here?"
She shook her head, setting shoulder-length, carrot-coloured locks astir: "No. He said he wouldn't be in today."
"I see." He smiled sincerely at her as a thought occurred. "Dare I hope you chose to watch the Plebeian Tribunate's meeting from here instead of down in the Well of the Comitia specifically so we could run into each other? You usually attend the meetings there, Mai-san."
"Actually, yes," she answered. Her mauve-shaded eyes met his. "I ran into your sister today."
"My sister."
I should have known it would be that, he thought. His half-sister, the product of his mother's latter marriage, had a great fondness for Mai—who seemed, happily, to reciprocate the girl's affection. The girl was forever at the Tokiha household, going so far as to develop a habit of staying over there instead of in her room in Reito's own house. Running into Mai, it seemed, was another habit she had just developed. He was almost jealous.
"Somehow, Mai-san, I have a feeling that it would be more accurate to say she ran into you." He pretended concern. "She didn't do anything silly, I hope? My little sister can be rambunctious, though I assure you she means well when she, er, rampages."
"I know," she replied, giggling at the word he chose. "No, she just wanted to talk to me. She asked if she could visit me tonight."
"In Mikoto's language: gorge herself at your table."
She tilted her head to one side, looking embarrassed again.
"Mikoto can be taxing to handle, Mai-san. If it's an imposition—"
"Oh, no, no!" she said, shaking her head forcefully she cut him short. "I don't mind at all. To be honest, I was going to tell you that you could come along for dinner too, if you want. I was pretty sure that she wouldn't remember to invite you, after all." She gave him another of her faintly embarrassed, wonderfully likeable smiles. "You know how Mikoto can be."
His teeth flashed as he grinned broadly, pleased by this turn of events.
"I would love to come, Mai-san, if you would have me," he said. "That's very kind of you to ask."
"Oh, really, Reito-san. It's only polite."
"Does that mean you asked me only out of politeness, then? Ah now, I am saddened."
"No, ah, that's not what I meant."
As this banter between the Princeps and Senator Tokiha continued, the urban praetor carefully made her way to the fore of the group. The others let her pass while nodding their greetings and salutes. After a few moments, she finally reached the very front, her view of the meeting below them unimpeded.
Much better.
There was a rustle of cloth beside her.
"Himemiya?"
She turned her gaze to her side, only to meet startled dark eyes looking at her.
Or worse.
To Chikane's surprise—and secretly, her discomfort as well—she was standing beside a certain well-known senator, who now looked at her with a hint of the same unease she was currently concealing. She had not expected to see him here because he was a member of one of the old plebeian families, which meant he could observe the meeting from the Well of the Comitia itself instead of from their current perch. But she supposed he had come here to avoid the crowd down in the meeting itself, or perhaps to accompany some patrician friends.
The two of them were not exactly friends themselves, although they were old acquaintances. The reason for their present unease was a past rivalry that had happened not too long ago: an unexpected but fairly strong competition over none other than Chikane's wife, who had proven her guileless self somehow able to attract two of the most sought-out, eminent senators despite her unspeakable social class. Since that matter had been settled with Chikane's marriage, there was no longer any reason for the two senators who had once competed for one woman to now avoid each other—which, had they been honest, both of them had been doing thus far.
Until now, due to Chikane's little error.
Ah well—I suppose we had to meet sometime, she thought, even as her lips pulled up slightly into her standard faint smile. It was inevitable, for he was another senatorr and went about much the same circles she did. The Himean senator's world was very small.
She greeted him politely and watched the startled look in his eyes turn into one of slight discomfiture. He returned her greeting awkwardly, though with absolutely no malice as far as she could read. And eagle-eyed as Chikane was, her readings were often accurate. If so, that was good. It recalled to her the words of her wife, who had once defended the man in an argument.
"He's a good man,"the other woman had stated in what now seemed a long time ago to Chikane. "He wouldn't do that, what you said. He wouldn't bear a grudge."
Chikane had suppressed a sigh at her wife's stubbornness.
"He is a man who has just been scorned, Himeko. I am aware you think him a man of good moral character, and truly he seems so. But how can you be sure he would not do something out of anguish? People are reckless when they are in pain."
"I know that, Chikane-chan," her wife had responded, with a feeling look that made Chikane's head drop. After a few seconds of silence, she went on to say: "I know you're just worrying for my sake. But he's my friend too. I want him to stay and keep being my friend."
"That may be asking for too much from him at this moment," Chikane had answered. "Seeing you—seeing us like this would only wound him further. Even if he does not harbour a grudge, as you say, then he would most likely keep his distance for a while."
The golden-haired woman had considered it.
"I know," she eventually said sadly. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop being his friend."
Then, fixing Chikane with a determined eye: "And that doesn't mean he's going to stop being mine."
They saw later that Chikane had been right when she said that he would keep his distance from them, that much was made clear in the man's actions afterwards. Now, however, Chikane could see that Himeko had been right as well. The man was actually asking about her wife in a way that was obviously well-meaning, though only after having stumbled a fair bit over the words.
"Will you send my regards to your wife, Himemiya?" he was saying to her, scratching the back of his head. "It's been some time since I saw her. Is she well?"
"She is doing admirably, thank you," Chikane replied smoothly, turning something over in her mind. "I shall convey your greetings to her, rest assured. Himeko will be overjoyed to receive them."
"That's good," he said, running a hand through his thick but short mane. "I haven't greeted her in a while. I sent a letter congratulating her on your marriage, but... Well, it was feeble of me not to have given them in person, I think, especially as I meant them. I hope she's not mad about that."
"Oh, Himeko could not be mad at you for such a thing."
"I hope so," he replied. "Anyway, thanks for telling her that and 'sorry' for me, then."
Chikane paused before giving her reply.
"Perhaps you might even come sometime and deliver your apology to her yourself?" she suggested.
He looked a little stunned by that, she thought, his handsome, almost pretty face open and unguarded for a few seconds. He recovered swiftly though and seemed to search her countenance for a hint of mockery in the instant afterwards. As he found nothing but polite expectation there, however, his expression eased once again.
"I think I could do that," he said slowly. "Maybe someday, if it won't be imposing on you."
"Not at all. Consider it done at my express invitation."
She turned her gaze to the podium before them.
"In any case, did I miss anything, Oogami-san?" she asked. "I was regrettably late coming here, so I have no idea what has transpired."
He inhaled audibly, relief coming to his face as they moved to less personal subjects.
"Something has happened, though I don't understand what it's about," he replied, falling into his proper 'politic' manner. "Maybe you can be the judge of it for me, Himemiya. It's a little odd."
She nodded to indicate that she was listening.
"One of the tribunes-of-the-plebs just proposed a strange bill," he explained. "It's to allow curule candidature in absentia for politicians abroad in the coming elections. So long as their official nomination is filed here by a legitimate executor of will on their behalf, that is."
Chikane lifted her eyebrow: "Odd indeed."
"Tell me about it." He shrugged disparagingly. "Even if that bill is passed, most of the officials abroad still wouldn't get the news in time to send back instructions for someone to file nomination for them. The elections are happening in just a few weeks from now. Unless our senior consul is late in coming, and I don't think she will be, this time."
"That is true," Chikane said. "The bill, it would seem, is generally useless for most of the people who might be interested."
"That's what I think."
"Ah." She took a moment to reflect on it, turning over the idea in her head. As the other senator said, it made little sense to her. "You are right. It does seem odd."
He looked at the crowd below.
"The only reason I can think of," he told her, "is that the tribune-of-the-plebs who proposed it is either in league with or being paid by an official outside Hime. Someone who's already prepared to file a formal announcement of candidature and is just waiting for the bill to pass so that his man can file the nomination immediately, even before the news of the bill's passage reaches him in his post abroad. Someone pretty close, as it'd have to be fast-travelling news for him to have gotten word of the opportunities presented by your man's legislation of a second nomination period."
She nearly broke into a smile at his blatantly casual—and slightly impolitic, but he had never been a perfect politician—reference to the tribune of the plebs passing said nomination period bill as 'her man'. Most people knew the man worked for her, of course; still, most people refrained from saying it in casual conversation, unless they were actually close to her or on her side as well.
"That is the only thing I can think of at this moment too," she said. "Though it seems such a desperate action. As though the person decided only recently on candidature." A faint gleam came to her eyes. "Perhaps it may even be an authority abroad who expects to have charges filed against him once his tenure is over?"
The other senator nodded. "Yes, that could be. He'd be safe from arrest so long as he still has a suitable position."
He started as though something had just occurred to him, and frowned.
"But even if he does manage to file nomination, what good would that do?" he asked. "He'd have had to go through a proper campaign to get enough voters, or no one would even recognise his name on the ballot. Especially since he's spent the past year or longer abroad. It would be futile."
"Indeed."
"Unless he bribes or gets backing powerful enough to see him the post at the last moment, I guess. Weirder and weirder." His frown turned into one of bafflement. "I just don't understand it."
She settled for sighing in response.
Privately, she was marvelling at how many "odd" bills were being passed that would influence this year's elections. First had been the one of her making, officially proposed by 'her man'. And now there was this, whose beneficiary was most likely some desperate official abroad trembling in his shoes at the prospect of being called to account for his crimes.
"It seems this is a year of political irregularities, Oogami-kun," she said at length. "I do not understand some things of late as well."
"Hearing that coming from you, Himemiya, makes me feel a little less like an idiot."
She smiled at the implied compliment: "Who proposed the bill, by the way?"
Oogami Souma shrugged carelessly, then gave her a name.
"Takeda Masashi."