“We don’t know what human women like to wear. To our kind, clothes serve a purpose – little else.”
I remembered the beautiful drawings in On Aurelians, depicting Aurelian Warriors in the togas that are apparently customary on their home world of Colossus. As ornate and regal as the togas appear, that’s not incongruent with Lazar’s statement – as togas must be both comfortable and practical to wear, assuming you’re not facing off against the Scorp in some distant warzone.
“We’ve been working for hundreds of years, Natali,” Lazar continues. “We have little time for frivolities like fashion. Time’s running out. Time is…”
He pauses, looking up – as if he’s accidentally said too much.
“…never mind that,” the warrior continues.
He takes a step closer, holding out his huge hands.
“The point is, we don’t have a harem, Natali. After our hundred years of service, we never settled back down on Colossus. Queen Jasmine told us she needed us first – that the Empire needed us.”
Queen Jasmine herself? She needed these three warriors?
As if reading my mind, Lazar nods.
“She said she needed us – and others like us – to prepare the Empire for the dark times that lay ahead. My battle-brothers and I were selected because we served with distinction during our hundred years of service, and we never showed a hint of rebellion.”
I balk. “Rebellion?”
Lazar nods. “It’s complicated, Natali. I don’t know how much you know about Aurelians…”
I know so much – and yet, simultaneously so little about their species. On Aurelians is the foundation of my understanding of their kind, and it’s incredibly dated now.
On Aurelians even speculated that Aurelian Warriors might not be capable of feeling emotions – and yet these three warriors have clearly shown me that isn’t the case. They might not show their emotions – or, at least they attempt not to – but I could feel the tenderness within Brennan, that contrasted so sharply with his delicious cruelty. I could sense the protectiveness that softened Otho’s stern exterior.
These Aurelians aren’t devoid of emotion. In fact, I sense they feel emotion even more strongly than we do. That their curse is to feel with the same intensity Aurelians embrace all aspects of their lives.
I narrow my eyes.
“I don’t know much – but I know enough about your species to know I can’t trust you.”
Otho laughs. It’s a deep, booming sound, with a surprising amount of warmth to it – again, proving that these three warriors are very far from unemotional.
I’d expected Otho to be callous or dismissive of Lazar’s words, but instead he quips:
“She’s too smart for you, Lazar – she sees straight through you.”
Lazar grins ruefully at the jab.
“I don’t doubt it. For too long, our kind has dismissed the intellect of human females. However, now – for the first time in our Empire’s history – we have a human Queen on our throne. She’s taught us all how cunning and wise humans can be.”
“Well, we say the first time in history,” Brennan breaks his silence, “but records from the Old Empire are strangely… hard to find.”
“That’s not an accident,” Lazar continued. “Having a human Queen is against everything that many of our Aurelian species believes – almost half of our kind, in fact. Before Queen Jasmine took the throne, there was a man vying for control of the Empire – a brutal man.”
“A brutal man,” Brennan nods, speaking with grudging respect, “but our greatest general.”
Lazar ignores that detail, instead growling: “He sought to lead Aurelians back to the Old Ways.”
The Old Ways.
Lazar says those words with reverence – but I know they’re not words to be uttered lightly.
The Old Ways – the ways of society back when Aurelians took what they wanted – including women.
I give Lazar a hard glance, as if he isn’t my captor anymore – the man who will determine my fate. Instead, I demand:
“Do you follow this General? Is that why you kidnapped me? Do you believe in the Old Ways?”
Lazar pauses. He doesn’t dismiss my words.
“No,” he eventually responds. “I don’t follow him. His name was General Asmod, and he viewed women as weak and stupid – fit only for the pleasure rooms of the most powerful warriors.”
Otho grunts, adding: “Asmod was a piece of shit – but a strong piece of shit. He was a decisive leader and a good commander. You won’t find a man who served beneath him utter a bad word about the General. In fact, most of them owe their lives to him.”
Lazar nods.
“Yes.” Then, he pauses for a moment. “However, be that as it may – when Asmod was slain by Emperor Raegan in the Arena of the Gods, it ushered in a new era for our Empire: An era in which planets under Aurelian control have declared their independence and broken free of our Empire. An era in which humanity has chosen to follow its own path.”
His slate-grey eyes narrowed.
“Great suffering has been the result. Individual humans have the capacity for greatness – but together, you are a corrupt species. It’s the natural law of humanity that the strong devour the weak.”
I should feel insulted – that sweeping generalization about humankind should be as hurtful to me as the way that so-called General Asmod viewed all women as weak and subservient.
However, I’ve learned enough about the newly independent human worlds to know that Lazar speaks the truth. All across the newly independent sectors, there are dens of slavery and debauchery – and nothing is done to rein in the madness. In fact, those still living under the protection of the Human Alliance will even travel as tourists to these independent worlds, to experience the ‘wild west’ of the universe.
Even this very ground I stand on now – on the proudly independent planet of Marn – you’ll find that kidnapping and corruption has become viewed as a simple negotiation tool, rather than a heinous crime.
Suddenly, I feel the weight of the
