As soon as I think them, I force thoughts of the Bond out of my mind.
Whenever I’d read a section about that particular aspect of Aurelian culture, I’d felt quite uncomfortable – but not necessarily in an unpleasant way.
Quite the opposite.
I shudder, and drag my thoughts back to the here and now.
From my vantage point in the window, I look down – and my eyes narrow as I stare at our visitors. These three aren’t your average Aurelians from the Aurelian Empire – not that any of their species deserves to be described as ‘average.’
No, these three are different. For a start, they don’t wear the traditional, pure white togas that are the signature apparel of their species – and would mark these three as dignitaries of the Empire.
Instead, they’re clad in light flak-jackets – like they just stepped off a battlefield.
They look – there’s no other way to describe it – rough.
So rough, I can’t even fathom why my father would let them inside our sanctuary.
The leader of the three Aurelians stands with even more confidence and authority than the other two. He has an angular, cruel face with a strong jawline and high cheekbones. They give him an arrogant, haughty air – even by Aurelian standards.
While their outfits might not be what I’d expected Aurelians to wear, the three of them have the same, distinctive pure ivory skin of their kind – as pale and flawless as marble. It’s what makes them look like statues from the ancient era of Old Earth, when talented artists would carve out images of the Gods from huge stone blocks.
These three look like Gods – their size, and power, and confidence.
I shudder.
I’ve read about the Gods of the Greeks and Romans, too – enough to know they weren’t kind. The gods of Old Earth looked down at humans as playthings and toys – pawns in the great celestial game of chess these capricious deities constantly played against each other.
To see these three Aurelians standing below me? It’s as if those ancient Greek and Roman statues had now come to life – and the cruel, tyrannical Gods of old are standing in my garden.
But I know that’s just my imagination running away with me. The Aurelians I’ve read about might be powerful and deadly – but they’re also known to be protective, and honorable.
Although is that assumption true about these three? The leader of the triad might look powerful – but that’s where the similarities end between him and the Aurelians I’ve read about. This towering warrior doesn’t look protective or honorable. He looks primal and predatory. His expression appears bored – even as twenty high-powered slug rifles are honed-in on him. His only movement is to raise one, huge hand and absently rub the black stubble that flecks his powerful jawline.
To the leader’s left stands his equally menacing battle-brother. While the build and skin tone of Aurelians makes them appear related, I know that this looming warrior isn’t the leader’s actual fraternal brother. Aurelian triads are bonded in fire and blood, not by birth – but in becoming so, they form a bond even closer than those of most fraternal brothers.
This second warrior’s head is shaved except for a short mohawk. There’s a scar across his face that’s so deep and brutal I can see it clearly even from my vantage point above him. The jagged scar runs from his left ear up to where his hair starts, and the warrior must have chosen the hairstyle as a result. He either chose a mohawk because his hair can’t grow across the deep, hewn scar – or, he just likes to look like a brutal, scar-faced killer.
If that’s his intention, this warrior has succeeded. He looks like he could snap somebody in half as soon as look at them. His face is even broader than that of the leader of the triad – but that doesn’t mean it’s any kinder.
The third battle-brother of the triad looks the most human – although that’s not saying much.
It isn’t his buzz cut or clean-shaven face that makes him appear less bestial than the other two – it’s the fact that this Aurelian’s eyes are scanning the faceless Sentinels; as if he’s the only one of the three warriors that actually registers them as a threat. It’s unnatural that the other two simply stare forward, as if the murderous automatons are no more threatening than the shrubs or hedges of the garden.
One other thing about the third warrior sets him apart: Across his back is slung a long, lethal-looking rifle with a scope attached.
Very strange for an Aurelian.
From all the books I’ve read about them, I’d come to understand that the species prefers to fight in close combat – using the legendary Orb-Weapons they’re permitted to keep after their mandatory hundred years of military service to the Empire.
A hundred years spent battling Scorp, and pirates, and all other manner of unspeakable evils. I can’t imagine the horrors they endured during that century of enlistment. No doubt the second of the warriors earned that brutal-looking scar from his time in the Aurelian Army.
That third Aurelian – the one with the rifle – is chewing gum or tobacco quickly as his eyes flit from sentinel to sentinel, judging the danger they pose. Again, that’s unusual for an Aurelian. While I don’t expect any rational creature to be quite so nonchalant about the Sentinels as the first two warriors appear, I also know that Aurelians are raised to make as little extraneous movement as possible – until their stillness makes them resemble statues even more so.
This third Aurelian? By the standards of his species, he looks almost… anxious.
But who can blame him? Those fucking Sentinels scare me, too – and I’m the one they’re supposedly programmed to protect.
Up until today, I’ve always asked myself: Protect me from what?
Now, as I look at those three Aurelians, I finally understand.
To protect me from threats like them.
Those towering Aurelians make
