Like so many things in this world, this part of the story starts with the same, banal motive – greed. The dispute, which consumed hundreds of souls to fill its bottomless stomach had the same beginning, as so many massacres, this sinful land has carried on its hump. The confident footing of the warriors toward the enemy, when the triumph was only a foot away, was cut short by the trap placed in the homeland. Was it done on purpose? Probably not. But the fact is, the same trap was built at the hands of the senate and had a face of a fierce and beautiful woman.
Thus the army is an organism, it has many limbs which have the names of troops. Horsemen and cavalry, spearmen and archers, stone-throwers, and many more. Ones were trained, others hired. Ones used on daily basis, others called when needed. The hired troops were paid by the senate, but led by the general. But if two arms fight for the sake of the truth and honor, twice as much skirmish for the gold.
After the successful clash, whilst the great general, with the young Annihil by his side, led his troops toward the biggest enemy, the senate slowly but surely was paying troops left behind. When it came to the last troop, they refused to spare the gold, saying they had none left. Why did they choose to neglect the same exact troop? Because they were women.
"Is it wise though?" Hartago spoke up. "The trust and respect are the half of our strengths." He smiled kind-heartedly at the members of the senate. "Would the dept we own strain us that much that we are forced to take this risk?"
Despite his well-calculated speech, his young age still worked against him. The senate contained the elders of the strongest families. Every time his suggestions were met with the urge to contradict, thus following the suggestions of the young man who had only eighteen winters behind him, hurt their ego. After the stern debates filled with already made, emotional observations lacking vigilance, the senate stood by its old decision.
Not far after, an unexpected guest visited the citadel. The evening festivity was interrupted by the woman, who went by the name Melita. She led a small troop of warriors with her. The light of torches danced on the number of her skin. The dark charcoal lines were surrounding her dark, bottomless eyes. Her hands lacked weapons, thus no one was allowed to carry armor in the palace of gods. With her presence, she interrupted the ritual of blessing the senate. Everything went silent, even Tannit's virgins stopped their deeds. Melita's fearless eyes scanned the great hall and landed and pierced the senate members, agitated by the unspeakable intrusion. Then, she smirked and went towards the inexhaustible fire.
"May the Tannit's blessing be with you!" Her strong and cynical voice made the already silent place even quieter. She rounded Tannit's virgins, choosing one in particular.
"Tell me, priestess, what does the goddess tell us? Does she believe in an eye for an eye?" She never waited for an answer and continued:
"We shed our blood the same as others did. We fought in her name the same as the others did, still, the senate decided, our blood was not as worthy as others, ones who were paid."
"The senate has away all the gold we could. We are not denying payment to you, Melita. We are not able to pay right now." The elder one spoke, his face scrunched with disgust. The woman, warrior or not dared to speak up to them. Unspeakable! Unheard of! His stern glare ran over the woman. Her warrior's uniform was as heavy and tight as any men's. Rough leather, inlaid with thick metal, the difference was the right side of her chest exposed, proudly displaying the rough, dark scar, where her breast should have been. Melita chose not to hide the scar, which identified her. The scar which told her story, the warrior since her early ears chose to cut out her right breast, for her archery. She did not wear a headcloth and her hair was cut short. The smile lifted the corner of her mouth while turning towards the priestess she chose to talk to.
"And by the pure miracle, the Senate ran out of gold when it was the turn of women archers to take their blood-earned coins. Tell me, priestess, does Tannit believe men are superior to women? If so, why does she choose you, The virgins of Tannit to serve her rather than men?"
She gripped the priestess's chin, making her head tilt to meet her eyes. Learning her face for a minute, she smiled again and continued:
"You are the daughter of the great general, the one whom we followed, the one whom we believed in. Till we get our share, we will be guesting at his palace."
It took only a day or two, and the city was surrounded, cut away from supplies, cut away from the rest of the country. The defenses which were erected to protect the city now were in the hands of the enemy. The great general had to turn his army back with curses and rage and still, even he was unable to break into the city he worked so hard to make unpenetrable.
What started as a calculated move to get under the skin of Melita and manipulate her, began giving fruits, but not only ones Hartago expected. While the fierce warrior woman kept falling for the beautiful and innocent priestess, true love crept into the Tannit's Virgin's heart. And when the time came, she did what was expected from her, but not earlier, than she allowed herself to give in and taste the forbidden fruit. Melita was poisoned by the priestess's hand and the city crushed the chains suffocating it. But when The virgin of Tannit is not a virgin anymore, she is not a priestess as well. From the highest castle to the deepest dungeon, the woman became the slave of the citadel without being deprived of freedom, hope, and love.
Did peristery know the story buried behind layers of several years? Not even half. Still, she walked towards the place she hated and feared the most. Her feet were getting heavier, but the force of determination was growing stronger with each step, pushing her body through the countless stone steps.
Her silent prayers were heard and the countless halls and chambers of the citadel were left behind undetected. On pure luck, the priestess who stole her mind during the great celebration was alone. Her half-dressed body was asleep on the sofa, her hand and feet dangling on the floor. Nothing was standing against the suffocating, hot midday wind which danced around the room, making her skin ache. Quietly, she approached her. The priestess gave away the air of malnourishment and sleepless exhaustion.
"Let me heal you." Peristery petted her forehead, which felt cold with the bids of sweat on it. Her lips were purple and with each breath, she took, the slight wheezing reached the healer's ear. Not good, she thought. How did she miss this during the celebration?! While Peristery was mixing up the medicine she brought, the eyes of the priestess flew open. In a second, she held Peristery's face in her hands, her chaotic gaze trying and failing to concentrate on the healer's face.
"You came!" She exclaimed. "You are here, my love. Did you forgive me? Did you?!" In a second, her lips were on Peristery. The delusional priestess was unstoppable in her caress. Her hands roamed the stunned healer who subtilely tried to get away. The priestess's lips tasted the poppy milk and the healer's heart sunk even more. Finally, her hands froze on the right side of her chest and the healer stopped herself.
"No! You are not her! No!" Her lament was heart-rending.
"It's ok. I am here to help you. I am the healer." Peristery tried, but the priestess's mind was somewhere else. Her cries stopped as quickly as started, scratching her skin she started searching for something. Her fingers found a now-empty vessel and she tried to drink from it.
Peristery handed her water with honey and some medicine she brought for her.
"Drink this, it will give you strength." The woman tried to refuse, but the experienced healer managed to give her medicine.
"This is not necessary." The priest was standing in the stone arch, his hand held goblet, which reeked of poppy milk.
"She must not take this. She needs to clear her body from it. She is melting away! She needs proper meals and medications. I will take care of her."
The familiar priest shook his head and said: "She is the servant of Tannit. All she needs is to pray for her sins."
"She needs healing." Peristery was not backing up. "I am the healer under the patronage of the great general's house. I serve his house, including his daughter."
"I know who you are, Peristeri." The priest started to approach them. "She is the servant of Tannit. Do you consider yourself a better healer than the goddess of heaven?"
"Of course not." She bowed him her head. "I serve the goddess by my skills, healing her servants. The goddess deserves the best and the healthiest servants."
"Indeed, you are the healer of their house, but this woman is not the late general's daughter anymore. No one has asked for your help and you will not give the priesthood directions of how to treat the citadel's servants."
"I would never dare to. But I am still a healer. And I will come back and do my best to help anyone in need."
Her hands shook as she observed, how eagerly the priestess gulped down from the goblet, sighing out relief returning to her slumber.