“I would rather be humiliated than dead, Sophos.”
“That is where we differ, Pochteca.” Sophos declared. “Ninety-four days is ample enough time to formulate a counter-measure providing I possess the right tools. The Midwarfs at Jordstal have the best resources for the job.”
Pochteca laughed. “And you would have us all place our lives into your hands? Ever desperate for a shot at heroic glory, aren’t you Sophos?”
“No, Pochteca, I am merely capable of seeing a larger picture. The Savage Prince cannot help us because he has his own woes. Tell me, why did you think he came to Alhamis, his sister dressed like an exquisite whore?”
Cynthia regarded her master. They’d had this conversation in passing, and confirmed it afterward. Sophos knew something, and from the irritated glower slowly growing on the face of the High Eminent of Espionage, Pochteca knew it as well.
“Teca, am I missing something? Why did the Takumians come to Alhamis?”
Pochteca crossed her arms, shaking her head, “A Floater will visit Takum in thirty days.”
There was not much to be said about Floaters that was not already known. Cynthia could remember the last time one came to her country. She was four years old and watched as day turned to night. The sun vanished from the sky and a frigid cold settled in the streets for the weeks it remained. The High Eminent of War then was Lady Auxilia the Astounding. Cynthia remembered Lady Auxilia leading the charge skywards, with four thousand veteran AAA soldiers chanting battle-cries as they ascended towards certain death. Lady Auxilia fought with everything she had, and returned, one-handed, one-legged, battered, but victorious. Victorious, the Floater vanished, and the people of Alhamis once again embraced sunshine.
Of the thousands that charged with her, none returned by her side. Lady Auxilia was exceptional, yes, but the Floater – the Floater was something else. It changed a courageous, domineering, valiant woman, into a jaded, embittered, psychopathic bully. No one could complain, when, eight years later, she was beaten into the dirt by a boy courteous enough to fight her with both hands tied behind his back, all while asking her if she had plantain chips.
Freeing Alhamis from the tyranny of Auxilia was one of the reasons why the then seven-year-old Hoplite Hierophantasia was heralded as ‘Hoplite the Heroic.’
“I see.”
“If we send some of our men –”
“Absolutely not.” Sophos interrupted. “We do not interfere in the Floater Visitation of another nation. The Gathering would never agree to such a ludicrous proposition.”
“We do not have a choice. We need to consider alternative methods should your supposed genius fail to be up to the task.”
“Utterly Wrong. This is an Alhamisian problem. Alhamis will handle this problem.”
“A Tier 9 threat is a worldwide problem Sophos. Set your ego aside and understand that we need assistance.”
“That is not your decision to make Pochteca. We shall hold an emergency Gathering, and when the consensus of all the High Eminents reaches its logical conclusion, we shall realize that the only reason you feel so pressed to find other solutions, is because you are terrified of the death of your only living relative.”
Cynthia found it difficult to breathe. The tension between her master and the lead spymistress of Alhamis was suffocating. All the while, High Eminent Hoplite seemed blasé to the situation, casually staring on as if he could care less. Shouldn’t he care? This was his life they were talking about. This was his life and the fate of people of Alamir, and he stood, with those same, dull, half-lidded eyes as if there was nothing to be concerned about. Isn’t he scared of dying?
“Teca, Soph,” Hoplite said. “This isn’t worth arguing over. I’m not going to let Alhamis be destroyed. If the ninety-four days end and we have nothing, I’ll put my hand into my chest and rip out my heart. If I cannot be revived, so be it. Once I’m dead, the problem is solved.”
What bothered Cynthia the most was the casual description. There was no hesitation in his eyes when he announced it. No sign of worry. His half-lidded eyes did not seem to change when describing his favorite snack or describing his death. If anything, rather than apprehension, there was almost a sense of… acceptance.
“Find me in my quarters when you two stop your lover’s quarrel. If I have only ninety-four days left, I don’t want to spend my time playing mediator.” Hoplite flicked his gaze over to her. “Soph’s assistant. Follow me.”
Cynthia froze like an antelope caught before the basilisk’s gaze. She turned to her master, hoping that he would indicate otherwise, tell her to stay, but he gave her a dismissive wave of the hand, and nothing was stopping her from following the fourteen-year-old.
Hoplite lead, moving away from the containment unit and she found herself following him, the echoes of her master and Pochteca arguing becoming fainter and fainter in the background. All the while, she followed the floating High-Eminent, who, for once, did not move at a pace too fast for her to match.
“Cynthia, was it?”
“Yes, your eminence?”
“Did you know you look like my mother?”
The question almost made her stumble. “N-no, your eminence.”
“Soph knows. Teca noticed as well.” Hoplite responded. “Perhaps it’s one of the reasons he purchased you. He always sends his amanuenses after me, one after the other, as trophies or mentors in hopes that I’ll let slip a weakness to them. Confide in them. He’s been doing this since I was born.”
Her master? Sending his amanuensis to Hoplite? “Why would Master Soph…?”
“Because like most people in Alhamis,” Hoplite gave her the same half-lidded stare. “He’s afraid of me.”
Cynthia swallowed nervously. She could not deny the accusation. She could not quite explain why Hoplite was so unnerving. There was just something off about him, and the casual manner he always exuded his power made things worse. Still, the accusation that everyone was scared of him could not be true, could it?
“Your
