Crimson Flower Continued.
Part 2: Pax Adrestia, Chapter 1.
AN: This chapter contains violence and disturbing implications. Viewer discretion is advised.
The blast caught Dorothea as she neared the bridge. One moment she was running toward the bridge and a few fleeing soldiers, the next she found herself deafened and sprawled on the dry dirt road.
She started slow, wincing as her ringing head and starving body screamed at her to stay down, to let the darkness claim her, but she clawed her way to her belly and pushed herself up on unsteady hands, spitting as she tasted dirt and sand in her mouth.
It was only then that Dorothea looked back at The Great Bridge of Myrddin, or, perhaps more accurately, what was left of it.
There was a cloud of dust that had risen from the bridge that blocked out the sun. But the cloud did nothing to hide the bodies that littered the bridge.
Some of them were fresh, even still kicking, but Dorothea had seen men like them on the battlefield before. Even with the best medical care in the world, they were gone.
She stumbled over to a young man, one of the loyalist militiaman that had been stationed at Myrddin. His arm had been cut clean off at the elbow by what looked like a flying roof tile, and dark blood pooled from the stump, with thick rivers of the blood flowing toward her.
She knelt slowly next to the man, and she realized that there was nothing she could do, for the man had lost too much blood, and yet, he raised his remaining hand, his lips moving, though Dorothea could not make out any words.
She clamped her hand over the dying man and closed her eyes, unwilling to bear the sight of the dying man's face as she whispered a prayer. There was nothing else she could do.
She wasn't sure how long she was on her knees, but eventually she felt the man's hand slacken, and Dorothea forced her eyes open once more. The young man's face had gone chalk white, and his eyes had hazed over, his hand having fallen to the dust with a small thud. But she could hear more pained cries behind her and the rushing of the Airmid River below.
Dorothea closed his eyes with her hand and rose to her feet again. There were others here she needed to attend to, men who may be saved, but she had to walk deeper into the cloud of shattered stone and foul smoke to do so.
It hurt her to be back on the battlefield so soon, Dorothea realized as she stared up at the midday sun. Just two short days prior, she had been watching an expertly conducted play at the Mittlefrank troupe, on a sunny meadow south of Garreg Mach.
But the war had taken so many of them in the last two days.
The first to go had been the performers. They were not soldiers charging into battle, not protected by thick plating and protective magics. They had pleaded for their lives in the burned forests that stood behind her, and had died at the hands of a merciless enemy.
And had it not been for the vicious, hard woman who had sold her life for them, Dorothea knew she would have been amongst the dead. Had Olivia not turned the southern forests ablaze, at the cost of her own short life, the mindless monster that had once been Raphael would have torn her into ribbons.
And what scared Dorothea was the sense of helplessness that crashed into her like a wave, cutting what little strength she had left in her legs. The Professor and Edelgard had left her behind, cut away like an afterthought. Even Marianne, quiet, devout, and peaceful, had rushed into battle without her, leaving her alone and vulnerable, a plaything of chance.
Was she a… burden to them?
She had been tossed aside like a broken toy as soon as the fighting had started. Hubert, despite all the years they trusted each other on the battlefield, had trusted a complete stranger to guard Professor Byleth over her.
And what did that mean for the future?
The rush of primal fear that Dorothea felt rushing through her body gave her legs strength again, and she climbed back to her feet. She tried to concentrate on the task at hand. She would need to use her voice to call upon the soldiers that came with her. They would need to work together to get the injured to safety.
But when she looked up, the small retinue of militiamen that had rushed to the bridge with her weren't where she had last seen them.
Instead, they laid sprawled on the ground, and a cabal of dark-cloaked soldiers now stood over them.
As Dorothea watched, one of the soldiers, one of several Almyran men, stepped onto an unconscious soldier and turned him around, a moment before he threw the man back to the ground.
Then the man growled and kicked the man before he marched forward, his eyes glaring at her.
"I demanded a report from you ten minutes ago," a voice cut through the silence, bringing the man's stalking gait to a halt. "We're here for the blade, not for vermin. Get to work."
There was a shift in the air as Dorothea turned to watch a single dark figure stalking through the destroyed remnants of the forest. There was cold malice radiating from the newcomer, unlike almost anyone Dorothea had ever met.
Unlike the unmasked soldiers standing on the road, this man wore a blank white mask that covered his face, and Dorothea felt genuine fear, even though the man was, in contrast to the other soldiers, unarmed.
"We don't answer to you," one of the other men growled.
"Tribune Agrippina is not able to take to the field," the masked man shot back, turning to the man who had spoken out. "You answer to me until she wakes."
The chastised man spat something back in a language Dorothea didn't understand, but she had a suspicion it was a curse or insult.
"I don't speak your tongue, Almyran," the masked man growled as he stepped past the tree line, his eyes meeting with Dorothea's. "And you are welcome to complain to Tribune Agrippina once the corpse blade is recovered, but not a moment before."
Dorothea glanced behind her. The dust storm had fallen, but there was no support behind her. She would have to face all of the enemy on her own.
Dorothea thought of Olivia and closed her eyes. She had stood alone, in the dark, fighting for a group of virtual strangers. She had been brave.
Dorothea steeled herself for the battle to come, but she did not get the chance to fight.
A fireball struck her. It wasn't a particularly strong one, but it was still enough to throw her back and set fire to her dress.
A primal, base instinct took over as she landed hard, and Dorothea rolled frantically around the ground, desperate to put the fire out.
Mid roll, Dorothea could only glimpse the sight of the masked sorcerer before a heavy boot landed in her midsection and knocked the breath from her, forcing her eyes up at the dominating man before her.
"Where is the corpse blade?" the man demanded.
"Go-" Dorothea gasped through her collapsed lungs. "To hell."
The boot in her midsection pressed harder. "I will not ask again."
"I won't tell you any-" Dorothea managed to get out before the boot landed against her chin, and she bit her tongue, tasting the copper of her own blood as her head landed hard against the stones of the bridge.
"Fool," the man growled, pressing a knee into her stomach as he pressed down on her, his eyes pits of black behind his mask, now only inches from her face. "We take the effort to save your precious Emperor from certain death, and we cannot gain a petty trinket in turn? You savages are truly ungrateful."
"Tribune Lucius!" a voice called from somewhere further along the bridge. "Blutgang is secure!"
"Well," the man growled, his eyes glaring as he brought a wicked knife between his face and her own. "If The Verrat didn't have standing orders to avoid killing you, I would have done you in already, but oh very well."
Dorothea didn't respond to that as confusion built within her chest even as her gaze focused on the knife. They… weren't going to kill her?
The man then stepped off her, but kicked her hard in the side before he stormed away, his interest taken by a mysterious blade she had never seen before.
She staggered up, first to her knees, then to her feet. If she could stall for time, then perhaps, she hoped, that their main reinforcements could come and take the men down.
But no men came. Even along the road she could see leading deeper into Adrestia, she could find no trace of the body of troops that would have been their salvation, apart from the men who had already been defeated.
Her heart sank as the man with the mysterious sword turned away, removing a strip of white cloth from somewhere in his cloak.
"Wait-" Dorothea called to the man.
The masked man ignored her, but fell to one knee, wrapping the mysterious sword in the cloth before handing the weapon off to another soldier, this one a grim-faced man whose bitter eyes reminded Dorothea of Olivia.
"What is it that you want?" she heard the Almyran soldier respond.
Dorothea glanced at the men behind her. "We need food and-"
"Your own men will be here soon," the Almyran scoffed, a sneer on his face. "The smoke will be visible even from Derdriu."
"But they will die of thirst before-"
"Hmm," the masked man cut into their argument, nodding slowly as his eyes looked at Dorothea before he turned to the small squad of dark-cloaked soldiers. "Yes, I suppose I have overlooked that factor. Very well, give them whatever water we can spare."
The Almyran barked something to his comrades in a language Dorothea did not understand, but the reaction from the other Almyran soldiers was swift, and a half dozen canteens were cut from belts and placed on an unconscious soldier by the shade.
Then Dorothea spotted something red. This time, she saw a number of men dragging something through the forest.
It was only when the figures came next to her that Dorothea recognized that the crumpled figure in red was Edelgard, her crown still weaved into her ragged hair, though she seemed, like the others, unconscious.
And then Dorothea saw Professor Byleth, dragged along like a corpse and dumped next to Edelgard.
When the men dumped The Professor onto the muddy road where she had almost died less than a day before, Dorothea ran forward. There was no resistance, not from the cruel man in the mask, nor the Almyran.
Edelgard was still alive, though her regal dress was battered and muddied. The summer heat had obviously gotten to Edie, but Professor Byleth looked worse.
Where Edelgard could be described as sleeping, with heavy, laboured breathing, the Professor was sprawled like a corpse. It was only when Dorothea placed a trembling finger under her nose that she detected a faint breath.
"They are to your satisfaction?" the voice of the masked man asked.
"Why?" Dorothea ignored the question. "Why are you trying to help us after trying to-"
"We had nothing to do with this operation," the masked man growled, flinging an errant hand at the ruined bridge. "We came to slaughter Maurice, nothing more."
"Maurice?" Dorothea whispered.
"The thing that saved your life," the masked man growled before one of the other soldiers, this one a pale faced ghost of a man, waved.
"Heads up," he barked. "Move it. Cavalry units inbound."
"A word of advice, Miss Arnault," the masked man said as Dorothea watched him turn back to the burned forest along with the other dark-cloaked soldiers. "Stay out of our way. Our master has only so much patience if you intend to interfere with his plans."
And then he was gone, though the cries of a unit of cavalry turned Dorothea's attention back to the injured men at hand.
In the end, it was Hubert who had awoken first. Despite a dozen smaller cuts that had shredded his clothing and bloodied face, he rose to his feet, and when he met her eyes, he staggered toward her on unsteady feet.
Dorothea met him halfway, and took his hand.
"Dorothea," Hubert's voice was dry, pained, as if he had burned his throat with the choking smoke. "What of our losses?"
For a moment, she felt her throat go dry, then she turned around and looked down at the neat lines of the dead, laid out at the side of a derelict building. Almost sixty in total, the vast majority of them young survivors of Myrddin's garrison, but with no less than eight members of Edelgard's personal bodyguard amongst the dead.
"Acceptable," Hubert said, though his voice was laid with pain. "We need to return to Garreg Mach. We… we cannot allow them any more time to regroup."
She winced at the sudden swelling of rage in Hubert's voice.
"Hubert," she whispered softly, looking deep into his eyes. He averted his gaze, but not before she saw pain in his eyes.
He said nothing as he slowly sank to his knees. "I failed her," he whispered, and something that Dorothea had never seen before happened.
Hubert was crying. Grief took his shoulders as he quivered on his knees. "She's gone. They- they took her away from me. From us."
Hubert was hard, cold, brutal even. He was the reason when she passed through Abyss that screams of agony echoed from the walls. But here she saw the boy underneath, another victim of sorrow, his emotions finally breaking through his hardened shell.
It was a painful thing to bear witness, and Dorothea couldn't bear to see it anymore.
"Edie's still alive," Dorothea whispered.
Hubert stiffened before her, confusion visible in his eyes when he looked up. "Impossible. The blast was aimed straight at them. Even- even the bridge itself has been destroyed."
"The Professor is alive too," Dorothea added, pulling back and standing up. "Come, let me show you."
"They live?" Hubert gasped as he rose to his feet, his eyes wide and darting. "Where?"
"They're still sleeping," Dorothea said, turning over to look at the grove where she had laid Edelgard and The Professor to rest. "We moved them to the forest."
"Show me," Hubert's voice was hard, almost back to his normal, aloof self, but his eyes glimmered with more than tears, his movements jerky, as if he was some wounded monster, driven by only a single maddening directive.
They walked slowly to the part of the forest that had been spared Olivia's last stand, and Dorothea gestured Hubert over to the sleeping forms of Edelgard and Byleth, sleeping soundly on the hard, dry ground.
Hubert let out a deep breath that Dorothea didn't realize he had been holding and pressed his hands to his face.
"Lady Edelgard is alive…" he whispered, his legs folding under him as he landed on the hard ground with a thud. "Lady Edelgard..."
"Hubert," Dorothea whispered, glancing over to the two sleeping women next to them. "Perhaps we should talk elsewhere?"
He took another deep breath and nodded as he climbed to his feet, taking slow, deliberate breaths as they stepped back into the sun, away from Edelgard and The Professor.
It was then that Dorothea noticed a genuine smile on his face, not the evil or sadistic grin that she usually associated with him, but a look that made her wonder what Hubert as a little boy would have been like, before he became the dedicated servant to Edelgard she had always known.
"I apologize if I'm… acting strangely," he said after a moment, his voice expressing what could only have been genuine joy. "I had believed Lady Edelgard to have been slain."
She didn't say anything for a moment, but she nodded. "Hubert, I need to discuss something with you."
She felt almost a pang of regret as the emotions disappeared from his face, to the point where, apart from a slight hint of red around his eyes. If someone was to look upon him now, they would swear to The Goddess that Hubert von Vestra had never shed a tear in his life.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice serious once more.
"Does the name The Verrat mean anything to you?"
Hubert shook his head slowly before he paused for a moment, then he spoke in a calm, collected voice. "As I understand it, a Verrat is a mage who specialises in fire magic. Potentially dangerous, yes, but nothing special."
"I didn't have any part in saving Edie or The Professor," Dorothea admitted finally. "It... it's a long story."
Hubert's eyes darkened, but he said nothing as he turned to face her, as if waiting for her to explain.
"The blast knocked me off balance," Dorothea said as she looked down at the dust she had crawled from. "I was leading a number of reinforcements here when that thing-"
"A Javelin of Light," Hubert cut in. "I recall similar reports from the survivors of Arianrhod, and she confirmed it as such."
Dorothea swallowed before she nodded. "A different group of… them were here."
"What?" Hubert's eyes narrowed. "Them?"
"When everyone was still out," Dorothea explained. "They came in force and grabbed some sort of sword. They called it a corpse weapon."
Hubert shook his head. "They were the ones who saved Lady Edelgard?"
"Yes," Dorothea said. "I watched them drag her out from the tree line."
Hubert turned his eyes to the trees where she had last seen The Verrat's men disappear. "Why?"
"They," Dorothea started. "They claimed that their leader, named The Verrat, had ordered that we were not to be harmed."
"The Verrat," Hubert repeated the words slowly. "Perhaps another one of their… infiltrators."
"Like Kronya?"
"And Cornelia," he added. "And Lord Arundel."
Dorothea swallowed. "I see."
Hubert nodded. "I will converse with Lady Edelgard when she wakes. And we will speak with her once we return to Garreg Mach."
There was little else Dorothea could say as Hubert walked away
But as it happened, the masked man had been right. By the time the sun had finished rising, a unit of aerial cavalry had appeared over the horizon, decorated in the bright red of Imperial might.
She wasn't the first to notice their arrival, for she was drawing a sheet over what was left of one of Gloucester's rebels, but she heard them when one of the pegasus knights landed close to her.
The woman who had dismounted before her was older than most of the soldiers present, looking close to Hanneman in age, but she knelt before Dorothea regardless, her eyes on the ground until Dorothea gestured for her to rise.
Almost immediately, she looked around for Hubert or Yuri, but there were no other members of the Black Eagles in sight.
"Pardon me, General Arnault" the newcomer asked, her tone stiff but respectful. "Are you the senior officer here?"
"No," Dorothea shook her head, trying to remain formal. "The Emperor is here, but she is tired."
"I understand," the pegasus knight said, audible surprise in her voice. "Is there someone I could-"
"Yes," Edelgard's voice cut through the silence, causing Dorothea to spin around and face her in shock. "We need to return to Garreg Mach."
"Edie!" Dorothea swallowed when she saw Edelgard's ragged hair and grim, hard face. "You should be resting."
"We have little time for that," Edelgard replied, shaking her head before she turned back to the pegasus knight. "How long until your soldiers can move?"
"Garreg Mach is a considerable distance away," the pegasus knight said. "How many men will you require to return with you?"
"Seven in total," Edelgard replied after a moment of silence. "The rest of my men will remain here to reinforce our will."
Dorothea winced at her choice of words. "Edie, is The Professor awake?"
Edelgard seemed to stiffen at the question, but she shook her head after a moment. "Dorothea, do you mind if we speak in private?"
Dorothea glanced over to the pegasus knight, who only gave a slight nod before she climbed aboard her mount, rising steadily through the air until she was only a fist sized shape in the sky.
Only then did Edelgard speak, her voice quiet, her body seemingly to fold inwards as she let out a deep breath. "I… I remember nothing of the Javelin attack."
"Edie?" Dorothea whispered, concerned. Was it possible Edelgard had hit her head when the men of The Verrat took her?
She shook her head slowly. "Hubert informed me that you ran into… agents of this Verrat. I need you to tell me what you saw."
"I-" Dorothea started, raking her mind for answers, but finding none. "I don't remember much either."
"But you saw something," Edelgard's eyes were hard. "Tell me."
"They…" Dorothea started, trying to find the right words. "They seemed to be working with… no, part of the same organization as Thales."
Edelgard drew a stiff breath. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," Dorothea said, her mind flashing to the sight of the men in black cloaks. "But they were… different. They said that The Verrat had orders to spare us."
"Spare us?" Edelgard whispered, disbelief in her voice palpable. "We are at war with them."
"That's what he said," Dorothea protested, trying to avoid Edelgard's eyes. "I swear it's the truth."
"I never doubted that," Edelgard said quietly, her eyes softening for a moment as Dorothea saw uncertainty flash across her face. "Still… I have never heard of this… Verrat, despite working with them for so long."
"Could this Verrat be a replacement for someone?" Dorothea suggested. "Maybe someone to replace her?"
Edelgard fell silent before she nodded. "Possible, but we have seen few of their operatives, perhaps this individual was simply not someone we had encountered beforehand."
Dorothea nodded before something in her mind clicked into place, like a key piece of a puzzle. "Whoever they were, they had strange soldiers."
Edelgard paused but said nothing.
"Several of the men who came were…" Dorothea paused for a moment to phrase her words well. "I believe they were Almyran."
"Almyran?" Edelgard repeated, her eyes narrowed. "Then Claude-"
"I-" Dorothea stopped Edelgard mid-sentence. "I got the names of two of their soldiers, but I don't think Claude is involved."
"Truly?" Edelgard asked.
"Claude," Dorothea started. "His notes never had any mention of them, right?"
Edelgard nodded but said nothing.
"Besides," Dorothea added. "We have met mercenary groups of exiled Almyrans, it's likely that they were just hired mercenaries."
Edelgard closed her eyes for a moment before she sighed. "You have a point. But tell me, what were the names of these soldiers?"
"They called themselves Tribunes," Dorothea recalled the odd name. "But their names were Lucius and Aggripina."
"Certainly, these individuals possess strange names," Edelgard crossed her arms, his face in deep thought. "Still, they are not names I am familiar with. I will inform Hubert and Yuri, but it may take some time before they turn up any leads."
"Hubert also said that he intended to… interrogate her." Dorothea said after a moment of hesitation.
"Indeed," Edelgard said after a pause. "Yes, that is a good plan. I want you there."
Dorothea winced. "I- I don't want to. I'm not comfortable in that space."
Edelgard said nothing. "How much did you see, truly?"
Dorothea closed her eyes for a minute. "The one they called Lucius wore a mask, and he had a bad relationship with the soldiers under his command."
"Were you able to see anything?" Edelgard's voice sounded disappointed.
"The one called Agrippina wasn't there," Dorothea recalled. "She- the one called Lucius said she had lost consciousness."
"Anything else?" Edelgard's face had turned blank, and her arms were crossed.
Dorothea closed her eyes and mentally replayed the scene in her head. There were minute details within her mind's eye, but nothing worth mentioning.
"They headed west after they left you and The Professor out in the open," Dorothea said finally, unable to extract anything more from her memories. "But that's all I could tell you."
Edelgard closed her eyes for a moment before she nodded. "Very well then, I will not require you to be at the interrogation, but if you remember anything else, you will return to me at once."
Dorothea nodded. "I… I need to talk with Ajax."
Edelgard's eyes narrowed for a moment before she nodded. "Yes, the other man who was working with Olivia. He will be of use to us. Very good."
Dorothea took a deep breath as she noticed Professor Byleth walking up the bridge, slowly, as if in a daze. "Edie?"
"El," Byleth managed, her voice weak. "Wha- what happened?"
Edelgard's eyes were clear and calm, and Dorothea knew Edelgard would have words with her later, but now she would be with The Professor.
And thus, Dorothea gave a slight curtsy to Edelgard before she fled the bridge.
The sun had sunk far below the horizon by the time they landed back in Garreg Mach, their legs sore from the long trip over the Airmid River.
Dorothea was close to the end of the long airborne convoy that had flown back to Garreg Mach, and she found the long flight back almost peaceful, the memory of the ambush and battle having faded from mind as sleep took her.
There was a light breeze when her legs finally touched the solid ground of Garreg Mach, and she took a slow, shaky step before she took another, more confident one.
When she looked up, she saw Edelgard and Byleth walking toward her, their faces grim.
"I-" Dorothea fell silent when Edelgard raised a hand.
"Head to the Opera camp," she said with a slight nod. "We'll talk in the morning."
"Thank you," Dorothea said as Edelgard turned her back to her. "If there's something that happens, will you let me know?"
"We will," The Professor called over her shoulder.
Dorothea walked slowly over to where she knew the camp was, taking slow, deliberate steps as she tried to figure out the words that would be said, but the words never came to mind.
She recognized the tent that she had woken up in a few days prior, the dim, flickering light within. Inside, she could hear a low voice growling in anger.
"Ajax?" Dorothea called weakly.
There was silence for a moment, then a deep, rich voice called back. "Ajax isn't here right now."
"This is important," Dorothea continued, "Can- can we talk?"
There was a sigh, then the voice called back. "Please, come in."
The man who had spoken within the tent was fairly average sized, and he was bare chested, with thin, wiry muscles. Even with the weak lighting inside the tent bathing everything in a soft orange, the man still seemed somewhat pale.
And he wasn't anyone Dorothea knew.
"I-" Dorothea started, her mind going blank.
"Miss Arnault, yes?" the man asked, his handsome face remaining neutral as he lowered a small quill onto the table, neatly setting aside a set of notes or letters before he turned to her. "Olivia mentioned she had met you here, though I was asleep at the time."
Dorothea swallowed heavily, her mind racing for an answer, any answer that would ease the blow she knew her words would cause, but she couldn't find any.
So she forced out the painful words, the venomous taste of self-disgust rising in her chest. "I'm sorry, but Olivia is dead."
The man did not say anything, but he looked at her and watched her for a long minute, his eyes lacking any sign of grief or sorrow, even though his voice hardened. "What happened?"
Dorothea swallowed and looked around the barren tent. "Could I sit down?"
The man nodded as he turned over to a chest, pulling out a long green shirt and putting it on. The shirt slipped easily over the man's bone-thin torso. Then he slammed the large trunk shut and turned back to her. "Tell me, what happened?"
Dorothea closed her eyes. "Did she tell you about what happened? With the ship?"
"Yes," the man replied with a nod. "She told me and Ajax about what you needed the ship for. I believe she sent a message south for Peri as well."
"The-" Dorothea took a deep breath. "We were led into a trap. The ship was destroyed."
The man closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath, his eyes cold and guarded when they opened again. "I see. Tragic."
Dorothea blinked for a moment before she mentally realized what the man meant. "No- we escaped the wreck, but Olivia was killed in the battle afterward."
The man looked at her with hard, guarded eyes, as if he disbelieved her words. "How? Battle with whom?"
"We fled to the forest along the Airmid River," Dorothea said, wondering if the mercenary would believe her story of their battle against the mages in black. "She held off the enemy while we escaped. We- we cannot tell you exactly who at this time."
"I see," the man said, closing his eyes for a moment before he opened them and pulled a fresh piece of paper out. "Peri will need to know about this."
"I'm sorry," Dorothea said.
The man nodded before he looked down at his hands, his fingers tapping the table slowly, as if he was trying to find the best words to his criminal master. "Olivia was his strongest servant. He will be furious."
Something clicked in her head. "Could you ask Peri something else as well? It would help us tremendously."
"What?" the response was curt, and Dorothea noticed both mocking and hostility in his voice. "You refuse to tell us even who Olivia fought and died against, and you expect our assistance in turn?"
"After the battle, we- we encountered an enemy unit," Dorothea explained, suddenly wary of dragging more innocents into the war against them. "They- they said that they were working for someone named The Verrat. That's all we can tell you."
There was silence inside the tent, and Dorothea swore that the man was going to burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry?" the man asked at last, his voice still dead serious. "The Verrat?"
"There were enemy soldiers," Dorothea said. "They arrived late in the battle. I- I think they might have been the ones who killed Olivia."
The man said nothing, but he nodded again as he tapped his quill against the table. "I see. This… Verrat of yours, it's not a name I'm familiar with, but I will ensure that Peri is aware."
"Thank you," Dorothea said, pausing for a moment. "Do you mind if I ask some questions about Olivia?"
"Why would you?" the man asked, his pale face grim. "She's dead."
"This isn't for anyone else," Dorothea swallowed before she continued. "I was… an orphan, like her."
"Like us," the man nodded, the quill twirling in his fingers. "What did you do?"
"I begged for coin," Dorothea said softly. "Like so many others."
The man's eyes softened and he nodded. "Begging is only the first step on the street. Sooner or later you have to learn to steal."
Dorothea felt a slight sense of relief. Whoever this man was. He was kind enough to avoid mentioning the grim, obvious alternative: starvation.
"I suppose I was lucky then," Dorothea admitted. "I was-"
"We were made aware of your situation when we joined the Opera as Peri's eyes and daggers," the man interrupted her. "You were discovered by chance by an agent of the Opera, and you had a long, decorated career with them."
"Yes," Dorothea said. "I was."
The man took a deep breath. "We- we all had a difficult time on the street, but Olivia had it the worst."
Dorothea closed her eyes and tried to block out the mental scene of a little girl she had seen in Enbarr's streets one day when the carriage she was in broke down after an accident in the outskirts of Enbarr. It was kinder, perhaps, that the poor girl was already dead.
"When we were young, Olivia was kind to us. She was the best at stealing bread, the best at finding secrets."
"Really?" Dorothea asked, surprise rising within her. No matter what, she could not imagine Olivia being kind.
"We were content in those days," the man said with a small sigh. "Bread was plentiful, even if a bit stale, we even had bits of meat from time to time."
"But?" the question came naturally.
"Olivia was too good at what she did," the man replied, his guarded eyes boring into her own. "We ran into another gang in Enbarr. Bigger boys. Their leader dragged Olivia into a back alley…"
Dorothea whimpered and held her hands out to mutter a short, shame-fuelled prayer. The man had spared her the details, but the implications were obvious.
Olivia had suffered so much, even before Dorothea had met her, and she had judged her as a cold monster, and the revelation brought bubbling emotions that made Dorothea feel unclean.
"He said he strangled her in that alley," the man said, his voice soft. "We heard her screaming, we smelled the most awful smell on his clothes when he returned, and yet…"
"She survived, didn't she?"
"She shouldn't have," the man replied, shaking his head, his eyes now staring at a distant corner of the tent. "For three weeks, we worked under her murderer, fearing the next beating we would get… but."
"What happened?" Dorothea asked against her better judgement.
"Do you know what we used to call Olivia behind her back?" the man's eyes were sorrowful. "After she came back?"
"No," Dorothea said, a feeling of unease in her stomach. "But you're going to tell me, right?"
"Her nickname was Poke," the man replied. "For those three weeks, one by one, the new leader's boys would be found tortured, even... displayed."
"Poke," Dorothea repeated the name, a shiver running up her spine. "Did she do something to their… eyes?"
"We all thought it was a ghost, some demon from the depths of hell," the man's voice was cold, his face no longer facing hers, but instead foggy, as if remembering the past. "She let every one of her victims see her face before she maimed them. She let that bastard know she was coming for him."
Dorothea said nothing, but her imagination did the rest. Had she not been saved by the Opera that day, would her fate be any different?
"In the end, she took over two hours to kill him," the man continued, his tone neutral but clearly forced. "We watched him turn from a screaming human into a pile of burning flesh, and she did it with the most cruel smile on her face."
There was silence in the room after the man finished speaking, but Dorothea almost felt shame for ever bringing the topic up in the first place.
"I never saw that side of her again after that day," the man broke the silence, his voice soft. "But nobody ever questioned Olivia again, not openly at least. Even when she announced to us suddenly that we would be working for a bigger, more cruel crime lord. Not one word.
"Not one word," Ajax's voice repeated from the flap leading outside. "I was looking for you, Gerald."
Dorothea glanced back to the other man, and she met his eyes, a moment before she remembered what she had come to do.
"We- we need to send an apology to Peri," Dorothea said.
"What happened?" Ajax asked, his voice nervous.
"Olivia was killed," the man named Gerald replied for Dorothea. "And of course, the ship was destroyed."
"Olivia?" Ajax whispered, his face turning pale before Dorothea's eyes. "No! That can't be!"
"I'm sorry," Dorothea said, unable to meet the man's face. "She gave her life so we could escape with ours."
"How did she-" Ajax's voice was broken, his words slow and uncertain, but the intent behind his question was clear.
And the answer that Dorothea had to give broke her heart.
"I don't know," Dorothea whispered. "We were in camp in the forests south of Myrddin when we were attacked."
"Olivia volunteered to act as a rearguard," the voice of Hubert came from behind Ajax, and the hapless guard yelped and rolled to the floor, fear evident in his eyes.
"Hubert," Dorothea said. "Why are you here?"
Hubert didn't reply to her, but his eyes wandered the room as he spoke. "We believe that Olivia was killed in battle with the enemy, but it is equally possible she choked to death on the smoke in the forest."
"Hubert!" Dorothea snapped, angry that Hubert had destroyed any shreds of sympathy or compassion.
"It is the truth," Hubert replied, his eyes turned back to her. "Come. We have a situation."
"What happened?" Dorothea asked, a sense of unease rising inside her.
"She is gone," Hubert replied. "And we have not seen Lysithea for some time."
AN: Chapter complete.
Next chapter (Seven Years): Betrayal.
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