Chapter 2: The Mighty Shall Kneel
In the inn of the kindly old lady, Cynthia tiptoed upstairs to find Galatea, trying her best to keep silent. Her feet creaked gently against the wooden boards. One couldn't be too careful trying not to get caught. Especially since that night, she had been forced to take additional steps to avoid the suspicious glances of Tabitha.
She peeked around the corner of the stairwell nervously. Galatea's room was beside Clare's, on the upper level of the inn. Are Clare and Helen here? She swiveled her head quickly and discreetly.
All clear.
Only a few more steps to her room.
She hurried to Galatea's door and knocked. "It's open," came Galatea's bored voice. Cynthia squeaked in delight and made her way in, closing the door behind her. Galatea was wearing her new regal black dress, and facing a mirror near the drawer. "Hi there, Cynthia," she replied, her voice tired but welcoming. "I was just reminiscing of the days when I still could see. Although I only had our warrior's uniform, I would nevertheless sit in front of a mirror and admire myself occasionally. Quite fitting, that I attain some degree of humility through losing my sight."
"But you're still beautiful. You're truly beautiful," mumbled Cynthia, her cheeks red with pleasure and anticipation. "May I join you?" she asked hopefully, her eyes falling on the soft, inviting frame of Galatea's bed.
Her senior nodded. Her smile, ironic as ever, broadened as the younger woman sat on her bed, eagerly waiting for Galatea. "For someone who is being chased by enemies who possess unspeakable power, you seem awfully cheery." Galatea's sightless gaze grew slightly distant as she sat down on her bed, next to her lover. "I suppose I should also rouse myself to match the heights of your happiness," she sighed, her hands playing with the tails of Cynthia's hair.
Cynthia closed her eyes, savouring the affectionate touch of the other. "I want to stay here awhile, Sister," she said. "It's only been several days, but I feel as if I haven't enjoyed your embrace in too long a time."
Galatea simply laughed in reply – the first, genuine laugh Cynthia had ever heard from her. "Have you been drinking with Helen?" she asked, kissing Cynthia, who closed her eyes. Their breathing quickened, their mouths exploring each other's as she continued to whisper, "attachment can be a root of suffering, little lamb."
"It's true!" protested Cynthia, although her attempt to argue her case was somewhat muffled by Galatea's lips. "I… I haven't been able to hold you, to touch you… ever since we came… to Darene."
"I desire your presence as much as you do mine, dear girl," said Galatea, cupping the tail-haired woman's cheeks with her palms. "It is difficult for both of us."
"But you're so much more… disciplined than I am," grumbled Cynthia. "And you don't get me in trouble either – I always embarrass you." She glanced briefly at the door; ensuring that she had shut it properly.
Good.
"I'm hungry, hungry for your company, Galatea," she continued, with slight difficulty. "That's why I came to your room today. I can't stand it; I don't want to have to distance myself from you just for the others anymore. If we must do this in secrecy, then let's do so. Please understand this, at least."
"Then, what would you like?" asked Galatea sarcastically. "What would you have me do, so I can save you from this torturous quandary?"
"Always the sardonic one," pouted Cynthia. "You've always like that, ever since I met you."
A smile gradually worked itself on her face.
"Well, for one thing, that dress of yours is getting annoying."
She suddenly giggled, her hands grabbing Galatea's top and working away at the clasps that held it together. "Let me get rid of it for you." No longer surprised at her lover's sudden and passionate bursts of desire, Galatea did not resist as Cynthia began to disrobe her. Cynthia's eyes sparkled as silken cloth slinked off Galatea's skin. She threw away her top, and then tore at the fabric that hid Galatea's hips, her smooth, shapely legs. As their breasts and bodies pressed against each other, Cynthia unstrapped her own black leather, clumsily throwing the items of irrelevance to the wooden floor.
This is taking so long!
After several lust-seared moments, the tedious deed of undressing was at last complete. Satisfied at Galatea's nakedness, Cynthia embraced her, wrapping her soft, bare legs around her and refusing to release her. "Make love to me," she demanded, her voice quiet and simmering with a barely contained fire. "Love me like that night you gave yourself to me, in the lake."
"And if one of them knocks on my door?"
"The door is closed. They will not hear us. We can keep quiet – I hope…"
"You're quite the naughty one," interrupted Galatea, feigning maternal anger. "You must be punished." Cynthia squealed in submissive delight as Galatea unexpectedly went on the offensive, bringing Cynthia under her as the bed creaked under their weight. She raised her hand and suddenly slapped Cynthia's derrière lightly, and Cynthia cried out in surprise even as her own legs tightened around Galatea's waist.
She had never felt such a sensation before.
The stinging, and the returning joy that could only have come from the knowledge that Her Holiness Galatea had smacked her in chastisement, was…
Was…
Perfect.
Cynthia felt her senses explode in scorched craving, her mind overwhelmed by a bizarre mixture of pleasurable pain and agonizing rapture. Her toes curled, already in the throes of helpless ecstasy. She scrabbled at Galatea wildly, screaming for her to slap her again, to take her; take her as was a Holy Sister's right.
Take me. Take me, and keep me under your wing forever.
Galatea also felt the pull of love. "Truth be told, it's only a bed for one," moaned the older woman, nibbling at Cynthia's neck and clutching harder at her buttocks as her junior's cries of joy loudened. "But still… we can be creative."
*
Eastern Sutafu
"The situation is dire," rang out Rimuto's voice. The atmosphere of the dark chamber grew slightly unsettled as the men in black robes muttered amongst each other, consternation in their voices.
Never before had their lifeblood been so endangered.
The Organization's upper echelon had not suffered such a rebellion from their warriors since Teresa's murder of a crew of bandits.
And most certainly, a repeat of the past's nightmare was not desired.
"Ermita," said Rimuto, addressing the cloaked man who stood before the council. "How are you to account for this disaster? Two of the warriors under your supervision have caused the greatest upheaval in this nation's history. That the Army has conducted a skirmish against our own creations is a thing unheard previously of."
"The female mind is a difficult thing to tame," replied Ermita with his slightly muffled voice, "especially when it is not given love. Nor have we revealed to them the origins of their purpose; their role in the War. Starved of the affection and transparency that they would enjoy from normal human relations, it is truly unfortunate, but inevitable that certain warriors feel the urge to rebel. In particular, my own charge, former Number Three, Galatea. She is not dead yet, and has most likely joined with the renegades. But – " he continued, ignoring the disturbed muttering that sprang up again. "Her conduct has been unacceptable. I never imagined such highly valued soldiers could fall on the wayside along with the other defectors."
A voice suddenly rang out, interrupting the conference. "It's a pity, because my commander also underestimated them. He sent only six soldiers from the Western Gate to execute ten half-Yoma. It was admittedly a mistaken presumption. That is why your full cooperation in this matter is, as always, well and truly appreciated." The men of the Organization raised their heads slightly at the newcomer's words. A slender man had made their way into the chamber, garmed in a light grey robe that was not of the region's garments. He had short blonde hair, weathered, tanned skin and eyes that danced with elitism.
"I encountered Ermita on my way here, which was lucky," said the man, smiling. "It is a pleasure to meet the clients whom we have placed our trust in for victory against the nation's enemies. I am Baudelio, the ambassador of the Western Gate Army. I have come on direct orders from our regional commander."
While Rimuto's expression remained unchanged, his voice, for a moment, sounded awestruck. "The emissary of the His Excellency the Western Gate Marshal. What could possibly have brought you back from the frontlines?"
The emissary examined his nails casually. "Perhaps you do not know what had transpired in the city of Darene, but only yesterday, we received the return of six of our Knights – badly wounded, utterly defeated. Given your relative laxity in dealing with these women, who are still uncovering even more of your Organization's machinations, the Western Gate Marshal took it upon himself to dispatch six men from the Second Infantry Battalion to execute them. But it is obvious that this endeavour has failed. Your orders, therefore, are to pour all your resources into destroying the 'spectres'."
Rimuto shook his head. "Due to the recent upheavals in this land, and the recent movements of the Abyssal Ones, we have struggled to maintain our quota of harvestable warriors. We have few warriors to form a fully competent force to engage the spectres of the Northern War."
"Wait," said another of the council members. "There is one. The warrior who disappeared some time ago, when there transpired a colossal battle between Isley and Lucielia. In terms of age, she is the most senior of our troops."
"Ah, yes," acknowledged Rimuto. "Her name… is Raphaela, is it not?" He paused, deep in thought. "Good. Perhaps we will do that.
"Ermita," he commanded. "Since both your charges, Miria and Galatea, have deserted us, I want you to find Raphaela and take command of her movements from hereon. I want her to hunt down the warrior Clarice and Miata failed to kill."
"She is the best choice," agreed Ermita, "but her Yoki has long been untraceable. She is either dead, or has gone into hiding, just like Galatea."
Rimuto nodded. "What you say is true. However, a veteran warrior like her will not simply have given up on life. . and if she is alive, we will find her, and she will follow our orders."
He looked at Baudelio, who smiled expectantly. "It is decided. We will locate Raphaela, and send her to execute the former Number Three. This matter must be brought to a close; once and for all."
*
Far away, in a small inn in the city of Darene, two women talked and laughed together, wrapped in each other, the cool blanket soaking up the passion of their lovemaking. It had been exhilarating, exuberant, joyful, persisting over several hours that endured as an erotic eternity. Ultimately, their Yoki interweaved, fusing their humanity as one; their being uniting through the warm grasp of adoration.
A bond never thought possible by those who sought to destroy them; who called them silver-eyed witches.
Cynthia sighed in bliss, her hands entwined with Galatea's, their sweat-drenched, moist bodies pressed close together. "I feel more and more out of shape every moment I spend with you," breathed Galatea, her smile radiant. "My heart has long grown soft; my will, powerless to your mischief. Honestly, I don't know if I'm the fighter I once was."
"Then fight your battles with me by your side, Sister Latea," replied Cynthia, her lips light on Galatea's. "Don't you ever leave me behind."
"Do not fear, my little kitten," reassured Galatea, as they shared yet another loving kiss. "I will stay with you, as long as Fate will allow me."
*
"… I see."
Baudelio smiled before the council of black-robed men. "So this Raphaela shall execute Galatea and bring her head to me? I like that. Oh yes – " Baudelio paused. "I almost forgot. The project involving the Dark Ones has been completed, has it not? Have you been able to replicate the success?"
"Not enough to created a division of Awakened Beings. Thus far, we only have one controllable specimen; Alicia. It is not wise for us to send her to join the Grand General on the frontlines yet."
"Disappointing. But no matter. The Western Gate Marshal's concern is not to involve her with the Dragon Tribes yet. Rather, allow the Army to deal with the other traitor, the former Number Six."
Ermita paused. "Miria?"
"Yes. As far as you and your people shall be concerned, your objectives are to erase this former Number Three from history, along with the two Claymores you sent to hunt her down a while ago. Kill all their relations. And on our part, the Western Gate Marshal will personally lead a division of troops from the frontlines to move against the former Number Six. We shall put an end to her probing, and silence her comrades, so that you may continue to manufacture Awakened Beings in peace."
Disturbed murmurs again. "What… what do you mean?" muttered one of the council members. "Are… are you speaking of invasion…?"
"When the Western Gate Marshal arrives in Darene with his soldiers, how do you propose to explain this to the denizens of this realm, who know nothing of the Army, or even the true purpose of our warriors?" asked Ermita quietly.
"I care not for the filthy commoners of this nation; they are little more than test subjects for your commission. They are completely and utterly expendable in our war. But the only ones who must die are those women. Since they dealt with six of our men – " Baudelio smiled. "Let's see how they handle five hundred; under the direct leadership of our commander. We shall lay siege to Darene, and reduce it to dust if necessary. But at the end of the day, those spectres of seven years past shall also be laid to rest."
"This historical precedent is preposterous. To show the Army in its full force in broad daylight?! And for the sake of our creations!" protested a council member. "What of our contract of non-interference? To destroy an entire city to hunt down several women – "
"Do you want the edifice of your life's work to crumble at the hands of your own daughters?" asked Baudelio calmly. "Or would you rather us take action so that we can at last destroy the Dragon Tribes forever?"
A stunned silence fell upon the black-robed men of the Organization.
Rimuto made no effort to hide his grimace. "I suppose it is unavoidable that the Army would interfere in our affairs, given our poor choice of loyal warriors."
"You are correct. It's decided then," said Baudelio, ignoring Rimuto's displeasure. "Good! Simply marvellous. Superb. Now that we have decided who amongst the traitors must die – all of them – I can be on my way."
He turned his back on Rimuto and began to walk, brushing past Ermita. "I leave everything else in your capable hands, gentlemen. Let us help these women understand that to challenge the Organization is to challenge the Army itself. They shall know their place. They shall kneel," he declared, "before the power of the Army and His Excellency, the Lord High Grand General."