The Imperial Guard, ch. 13

The Imperial Guard, ch. 13

Chapter Thirteen

Catalin felt eerily content.

That moment might have been the happiest he’d ever felt in his life, and it was a rather new sensation for him. His instinct was to mock himself for it, but even his inner monologue was basking in the glow. Of course, he wasn’t quite happy enough to forget that getting so much pleasure from looking at oneself in the mirror was extremely ridiculous.

“Cat,” Chris sighed, slumping his shoulders, “there’s a limit to how much self-love I can take, here.”

“Just one more minute,” Catalin said, not even turning to look at his friend. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best thing that ever happened to him. But a proper haircut and a gloriously stitch-free shower felt like everything in the world at that moment. He looked presentable again, at last.

“You are such a noble.” Chris shook his head.

“I am not,” Catalin shot back as he tugged on one end of his newly short hair. Which was growing on him, he’d admit. It made him look a bit older.

“Please. Fifteen years as a slave didn’t beat the aristocrat out of you, and a simple haircut definitely won’t,” Chris said. “Now, I know you want to look gorgeous for Kite, but-”

Catalin reeled backwards from the mirror as if it had slapped him, turned on his heel, and marched for the door. Chris scampered after him, smirking. “Finished, then?” he laughed. The taller boy only replied with a mutinous glare.

Even so, Catalin noticed that Chris was also much more cheerful than usual. Which was understandable: he had caused Chris so much stress in the past few weeks. Not that Chris tried to make him feel guilty about it. He guilt-tripped himself enough for both of them.

Things were going well for Chris besides Catalin’s recovery, though. Kite and Saphie had definitely warmed to him, and many of the others had started to treat him with respect, too. Catalin was glad, of course, but felt annoyed at how overdue it was. Anyone with half a brain could see that Chris was talented.

By the time they walked into the common room, most of the brothel had already gathered there. It was Amara’s insistence that they start holding regular meetings, so that everyone would know what everyone else was doing. Considering the isolated nature of their first month and a half at the brothel, Catalin had to admit it was a smart idea.

“That’s much more like it!” Saphie tipped him an enormous wink as he and Chris walked in. “You look great, Cat.”

“Is the length all right, Commandant?” Maris, the woman who had salvaged Catalin’s haircut, asked. “Like I told you, I couldn’t make it completely even, but that seems to be in fashion, anyway.”

“It suits him,” Reiselle said, elbowing Victor in the ribs. “Doesn’t it?”

“Eh? Oh! Yes!” Victor didn’t seem comfortable offering his own input, but he smiled encouragingly anyway.

“Thank you…” Catalin gave an awkward smile to all present. He knew they thought that he was upset over the haircut, but he wasn’t really. There was only one person in the brothel who was truly distressed about it.

Kite jumped out of his seat on the couch and gestured for Catalin to sit down, despite the number of empty chairs. Catalin, who now knew better than to protest, took Kite’s seat, and Chris sat down next to him. Kite leaned on the armrest and said, “It does look great, baby, but you’re definitely gonna grow it out again, right?”

“Kite!” Saphie chided, leaning forward to smack his knee. “Don’t be so insensitive!”

“I’m not!” Kite yelped. “He’ll look great either way! I’m just askin’!”

“It… It’s really not a problem,” Catalin interrupted, before Saphie could start in on Kite again. Espen was already looking annoyed; Catalin at least wanted to pretend to be competent. “That’s not what we’re here to talk about, right?”

“Too right,” Amara spoke up, leaning back in her armchair with a smug smile. “Let’s not fluff Kitty Cat’s ego more than we have to, shall we?”

Catalin twitched. He had come to accept that Kite wasn’t going to stop calling him that, but he wasn’t going to take it from Amara. So he simpered, “Yes, Your Highness,” in the sweetest manner possible. Amara looked as if she might tear him apart with those surprisingly strong arms of hers.

“In any case,” Damian interjected, saving Catalin from certain death, “we should get this going! Would you like to start us off, Cat?”

“Oh… yes.” Catalin nodded, straightening up. All present already knew about his findings at the Carmine military base, and about Baltus. But information about Rakan and the others wasn’t well-known, and upon realizing that Catalin knew most of them personally, it was decided that Catalin would tell them everything he knew.

Which sounded fine in theory. But facing everyone was more nervewracking than it should have been.

“I apologize for all the trouble I’ve caused,” Catalin began, inclining his head slightly as he tried not to grit his teeth. “As you already know, Derrick Baltus and Prince Frey’s Imperial Guardians are heading the team currently searching for us. Most of you already know about Mr. Baltus, but… since I spent a lot of time with Prince Frey’s Guardians, I can explain to you. Um. About them.”

He faltered a little at the end; a few of his subordinates were giving him odd looks. He realized that most of them probably had never heard him say so much at one time. For someone who’s supposed to be their commanding officer, he thought with a sigh, that’s pretty bad, isn’t it.

“Anyways…” Catalin cleared his throat. “Rakan Farrell, First Division.” He half-expected Chris to show some sign of recognition, but his friend didn’t even twitch. Catalin was reminded yet again why he liked Chris better than most people.

“Rakan is a… a very good person,” he began. “He’s very principled, and he’s sympathetic to the Myrrh cause. But he’s also dedicated to Carmine, and he has no tolerance for people threaten it. So given that, he… probably won’t show us any special consideration.”

He paused before moving on. The next name on his list would be just as unpleasant to talk about. “Fanel Cross, Second Division.” He crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

“The name sounds familiar,” Victor interrupted, frowning.

“Probably because his father was Anwar’s Second Division Guardian,” Catalin explained, “one of the two killed in the coup. He became Prince Frey’s Guardian through the next-of-kin law.” If a Guardian died without designating a successor, it would pass to the closest relative of the right age group. Fanel had ensured that it was one of Catalin’s least favorite clauses in Ancient Law.

“So he was mentored by Anwar growing up,” he continued, increasingly uncomfortable, “so his loyalties are to Anwar. Knowing Prince Frey, he probably asked his Guard to bring us in alive, but Fanel doesn’t really listen to him. At all.” He bit his lip. “He’s vicious, and he hates Myrrh. Be careful of him.”

“… that’s strange, though,” Victor spoke up again. “I’ve definitely heard that name before, but Anwar’s Second Division Guardian wasn’t named Cross.”

“He definitely wasn’t. Maybe this Fanel kid changed it.” Reiselle shrugged. “Or maybe Anwar did, who knows. Sorry, Commandant… go on.”

“Right…” Catalin nodded slowly, frowning. Fanel didn’t share a last name with his father? Catalin found that hard to believe, but he moved on.

“Tima Dorian, Third Division,” he said, relaxing now that the hard part was over. “She’s the other product of the next-of-kin law, so she and Fanel are pretty much attached at the hip. She’s not as sadistic as he is, but she’s capable, and she’ll do anything he suggests, so be careful of her, too.”

“A girl’s in charge of the heavy arms division?” Kite asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, a girl,” Catalin confirmed. “And she’s about this high-” he held up his hand around Kite’s chest, “and her hair is dyed pink.”

“… Kitty Cat,” Kite sniggered, “are you sure her hammer’s not rubber?”

“Is the fact that she’s a woman so hard to believe, Kite?” Talia asked. The question seemed innocent enough, but Kite recoiled.

“I’m not sayin’ she can’t ‘cause she’s a girl,” he amended. “It’s just odd, that’s all.”

“You’ll understand when you see her,” Catalin said, and left it at that. He understood what Kite was trying to say; Tima had been beating him up for years, and he still couldn’t comprehend how.

“The next one is Simon Brunell, Fourth Division. He’s also pretty physically unimposing, since he’s only fourteen, but I hear his poisons are first-rate already.” Actually, he knew it for a fact - Simon had, after all, paralyzed his leg at the capitol building. “He follows Rakan around, so you’ll probably find the two of them together.”

“The Fifth Division Guardian, Cantata Anwar… I really only know her by reputation,” Catalin said, “but it’s a fairly complicated reputation. She’s the older sibling of Frey, but she gave up her birthright in order to become a Guardian. I hear this had something to do with her younger sister… I think her name was-”

“Aria,” Kite said, with complete conviction.

Catalin turned to face him in shock; that wasn’t a detail that someone like Kite would know. “That’s right… Aria.” Catalin stared a beat longer, but continued. “I’ve heard that Aria went missing a few months before Carmine attacked Myrrh, and that it’s rumored Myrrh had something to do with her disappearance. Though if they did, Anwar would have had justification to declare war, and he never officially blamed anyone… so it’s a bit confusing.”

Catalin didn’t miss the grim look that had settled across Victor’s features, and he waited a moment to see if Victor would add anything to that. When he didn’t, Catalin moved onto the final Guardian.

“And Jaden Cardei, Sixth Division. I… really don’t know much about him,” Catalin confessed, shrugging. “I know that his predecessor passed away a few years ago. And he’s the only noble besides Cantata Anwar.”

“He’s a noble?” Kite perked up, and the tension in the room seemed to dissipate a little.

“I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t be interested,” Catalin said, ashamed that he knew Kite’s type. “He’s not really one to, say, know four languages and enjoy the taste of caviar. He prefers picking up women at all hours of the night.”

Kite looked very put-out at that, but recovered enough to mutter, “Not sure I’d be interested in someone who eats fish eggs, either.”

Catalin very nearly grinned at that. “That’s more of a status symbol. It’s one of those things only nobles can afford… like chocolate.”

“… chocolate?” Chris finally spoke up, looking at his friend in confusion. “Cat, chocolate isn’t exactly expensive.”

“Well, the kind in the palace is,” Catalin explained. “Anwar has his own confectioner, so not just anyone can-”

“Wait a minute,” Amara said, eyes wide and stunned. “You mean to say that you’ve never had chocolate before?”

Catalin stared dumbly back at her rather than answer, but everyone knew what his silence meant. And suddenly, just about everyone in the room was looking at him as if he were the saddest child they’d ever seen. He had no idea chocolate was such a big deal.

“Oh, honey,” Saphie said, shaking her head. “We’ll go out and get you some later, don’t worry.”

“I-I can get that sort of thing myself,” Catalin stammered, eager to change the subject. “Anyway, that’s about all I know about Frey’s Guardians. Is there anything else you wanted to ask?”

“I think that should be enough for now, thank you,” Reiselle said, turning to where Talia and Damian sat. “Now, I believe you two ran across some interesting information last night?”

Catalin blinked, sitting up straighter. This was the first he’d heard of it. Though Talia and Damian were still looking into his capture at the Carmine military base, they were tight-lipped around him about any information they found.

“That’s right,” Talia said, nodding. She looked at Catalin briefly, but addressed the room as she said, “There have been some rumors around the lower ranks of the Carmine army that one of the Myrrh insurgents responsible for burning the flag was captured two weeks ago, but-”

“But they’re saying that one of his comrades snuck in and busted him out,” Damian interrupted.

“Would you like to tell it?” Talia asked dryly.

“That’d be great, thanks!” Damian said, oblivious. “Anyway, since it wasn’t any of us, we figure that either someone in the Carmine forces is a Myrrh sympathizer, or it was someone working on his own. Either way, if we find that person, it’s possible that we can recruit them!”

“Does that ring any bells?” Victor asked Catalin.

He shook his head, frowning. Someone in the Carmine forces with Myrrh sympathies… he thought, but dismissed the first person that brought to mind. It couldn’t have been Rakan. Rakan thinks the best thing for me is to go back to Anwar, and he’d never be able to keep something like that from Baltus.

“Well, in any case,” Victor continued, “I think we’ve laid low long enough. Damian, Talia, keep looking into that sympathizer. Saphie, go see your father, see if he’s heard anything from his parishioners. And Christopher, Kite, why don’t you see about finding where Cat’s sword ended up?” There were general murmurs of assent from around the room. “Good. We’ll start after dark, don’t want to draw any-”

“Um, Victor?” Catalin hesitated, but asked, “Did you want me to do anything?”

“… right, yes. Sorry, Cat.” Victor cleared his throat. “Rei, do you have anything you can give Cat?”

“Give Cat?” Reiselle exchanged a glance with Victor before saying, “Oh! Yes!” She nodded a bit too quickly. “Yes, I’m sure I have something.”

***

Catalin dearly wished that “something” didn’t involve going upstairs.

And yet there he was, dragging his feet up every step and telling himself, This is it, I’ve outlived my usefulness as a soldier and now they’re going to force me to become a prostitute. Never mind that the rational part of his brain was trying to explain why that wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t listening. He steeled himself as he opened the door at the top of the stairs, and walked into the dark room ahead.

He took two steps before bumping into a wall.

Catalin cursed and rubbed his forehead, frowning as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He had walked into a small, empty room with no other doors, despite the fact that he’d just watched several of his subordinates leave through the same door. Granted, his mental list of the strangest things that had ever happened to him was always getting additions, but this was just surreal.

“Up here, Commandant.”

He jumped violently, stumbling backwards as he looked upwards; a trapdoor in the ceiling opened, and a hand extended down towards him. Catalin took the hand, and was hoisted up and into an equally dark room.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the unfamiliar voice laughed, closing the trapdoor and covering it with the carpet. “I kinda wanted to see how you’d react.” A door was opened, and as light flooded in, Catalin realized they were in a walk-in closet. The man standing next to him was a slender, handsome man that he had seen before, but never talked to. “Bet you never thought you’d be coming up here, eh?”

“Not quite…” Catalin stepped out of the closet, blinking. He had expected some dirty, disease-ridden hole in the ground, but the interior of the brothel actually looked like a teahouse. Though the color scheme was a bit questionable: the lurid red walls clashed with the pink, fluffy chairs and couches. More importantly, those chairs and couches were all empty, save for a few employees relaxing on them.

“Not what you expected, huh?” The man grinned. “This is where we serve drinks and snacks to the customers… everything else goes on upstairs. We don’t open until dinnertime, though, so you don’t have to worry about running into anyone.”

“Right…” Catalin swallowed. “Of course.”

“You still look pretty uneasy,” he observed.

“… it must be difficult for all of you,” Catalin admitted, shifting nervously.

“Aw, no need to feel sorry for us, Commandant,” called a woman from the couch. “We’ve done a lot more questionable things than this. We served under Celeste, after all.”

Catalin attempted a laugh at that. “About that… you can call me by my first name, too. It doesn’t feel right that you call me by a title, since… umm…”

“Since we have so much more experience than you?” the man prompted.

“… I was going to say ‘since I’m younger,’ but that’s true, too.”

“By your first name, huh?” The woman on the couch looked hopeful. “Can I call you ‘Cat?’”

“Actually, I really don’t…” Catalin trailed off, sighing. “You know what, go ahead. You’ll do it anyway.”

“Sorry for making you wait, Commandant,” Reiselle said as she sauntered into the room. “I was just taking care of a few things… Mitchell, Rose, go get some sleep while you can.”

“Don’t call him ‘Commandant,’ Rei,” Rose called as she left the room. “He says we can call him Cat!”

Reiselle watched them go, looking quite amused. “You prefer Catalin, right?” He stared for a beat, taken aback, but nodded as she motioned for him to follow her. “Catalin it is, then. Celeste never cared for that nickname, either.”

“How would Celeste know it?” Catalin asked, trailing after her.

“Well, the first person to call you ‘Cat’ was Milo. Milo Hadley,” she added. “Talia’s predecessor. Celeste brought you to the palace a few times when Gwen was pregnant with Amara. All right, here we are.” She stopped in front of a mahogany desk near the front entrance, and motioned for Catalin to sit down. “See this notebook here? It has a list of names in it. All the names on the left-hand pages are names of some of our contacts. I want you to assign those names to Espen, Josephine, Mitchell, or myself for tonight. You can just assign the rest at random.”

“… so basically,” Catalin said, “you want me to handle your booking?”

“Like I said, you’ll be scheduling meetings with some of our contacts,” Reiselle repeated. “It’s very important. I’m sure you can handle it. Now if you’ll excuse me-” she yawned, “I was awake all night, so I’m going to try to get some sleep. If anyone comes in, just tell them we’re closed and show them out. I’ll be back in a few hours…” With another yawn, she went up the stairs and out of sight.

Catalin watched her go with a flat stare. Important. Right. Victor and Reiselle had obviously decided not to let him leave the brothel until they were sure he wasn’t going to die. He didn’t really blame them. The way his luck was, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t die, either. He sat at the desk, opened the notebook, and began working out a timetable.

It was relaxing work. A bit too relaxing – Catalin started yawning about fifteen minutes in. The day had been more eventful than most he’d had recently, and his sleep schedule had gotten erratic during his convalescence. It felt good to be out of bed, of course. Catalin had never stayed in one place for so long in his life. Whenever he was sick before, Rakan could usually only manage to get him one day off.

Rakan would make the most of that day, though. Whether Catalin had a high fever or sunburned shoulders, he would fuss over his younger friend as if he were dying.

Catalin almost allowed himself to get nostalgic at the thought, but the sound of the front door opening jarred him out of it. As he heard a pair of heavy footsteps entering the building, he stood and walked into the front entrance, remembering what Reiselle had told him. “I’m sorry,” he said, “we’re cl…”

“There you are.” Derrick Baltus smiled down at him. His hand rested on a weapon that Catalin recognized as Celeste’s sword. “That saves me the trouble of looking.”

Too stunned to yell, Catalin backed away, his legs shaking so hard that they barely supported his weight. As his back touched the wall, he vainly told himself to run back towards the stairs, to yell for help, but he couldn’t make himself move.

“Easy now,” Baltus said, with a soothing note in his voice that didn’t help. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Not going to hurt him. That was a funny one. Catalin would have laughed had he been able to breathe.

“Catalin!” Rakan stepped out from behind Baltus, palms outstretched as if showing Catalin that he wasn’t armed. “Catalin, it’s okay. He’s telling the truth.”

“…Rakan,” Catalin managed, “what-”

“He took you back here under my orders,” Baltus said. “We would have come sooner, but I wanted to wait until you’d recovered… but it seems you’re on your feet again already.”

Rakan had taken him back? And under Baltus’ orders? Of course. Baltus had been ordered to arrest all of them. He had used Catalin as bait to find them, and he had relied on Catalin’s trust in Rakan to do it. Damn it, he told himself, stomach churning, call for help!

“Get away from him.”

He hadn’t even heard Chris coming, or seen him come in. But his friend was in front of him now, using a voice far too calm for an unarmed man. “There are more of us coming, Mr. Baltus. Back away. Slowly.”

“You?” Rakan blurted out, narrowing his eyes at Chris.

And within a second, Chris’ calm was gone. “Farrell? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here to get him,” Rakan declared, taking a step closer. “If you want what’s best for Catalin, stand down. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What’s best for him?” Chris exploded. “You brought the person who tortured him!”

“Master Baltus did no such thing!” Rakan protested. “What happened to Catalin was an accident! The only person who purposefully hurt him was Fanel Cross. We’re trying to help Catalin.”

“And you were a great help while this Fanel Cross was trying to kill him!” Catalin had never heard Chris yell so loudly before. It shocked him out of his daze. “What did you do, wait for him to finish? Throw in a kick just for appearances?”

“Chris,” Catalin said, finding his voice again, “stop.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rakan said, with a violent wave of his arms. “If Catalin doesn’t stop this now, I won’t be able to protect him from the consequences.”

“Protect him?” Chris scoffed. “When have you ever protected him? You cause just as much damage as everyone else!”

“Chris!” Catalin grabbed Chris by the arm, yanking him back. “Calm down!”

“Yes, let’s,” Baltus said, grabbing his protégé by the shoulder. “Rakan, this isn’t helping.”

“Cat,” Chris growled, “let me go. This bastard doesn’t-”

“Christopher. Quiet.” Reiselle strode in, all of her fellow soldiers crowding behind her, and planted herself firmly between Catalin and Baltus. At length, she nodded, and in a restrained voice, she said, “Derrick.”

Baltus nodded in return, and actually sounded respectful as he murmured, “You look well, Reiselle.” Even Rakan looked dumbstruck.

“Likewise,” Reiselle said. “Tell me, is it attacking children that keeps you looking so young?”

“Come on, that’s not fair.” Desperation wavered through his voice. “It was an accident, it was dark, I couldn’t have… had I known it was Celeste’s cousin, I would have never-”

He called her Celeste, Catalin thought, looking up at the soldier slowly. Carmine soldiers never called her “Celeste.” It was always “her,” or “that woman,” or most often, “Celeste Kasshen.” Never just her first name.

“So children other than Celeste’s relatives are fair game?” Reiselle asked. “You always were one for double-standards.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t afford to be so lenient to everyone who breaks into my office,” Baltus said, his knuckles turning white on Celeste’s sword. “You don’t have to go for one of those knives of yours. I’m just here to talk to you.”

“Forgive me, Derrick. But I put very little stock in your honesty these days.”

“It’s the truth.” Baltus paused. “I just want you to stop this. Quietly. Next time you attack Carmine, you don’t get that opportunity.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Reiselle said.

“Don’t even try that,” Baltus said, his voice low. “I saw Catalin at the capitol building that night. It won’t be long before we identify his friends, too. But right now? His Highness isn’t taking you the least bit seriously. As far as he’s concerned, you’re children pulling pranks.”

“And that’s why he’s got one of his own Guardians tracking us?”

“That has nothing to do with you,” Baltus said, shaking his head. “His Highness suspects I still have sympathies for you. The only thing he cares about is getting his slave back… acknowledging the rest of you would mean that Myrrh is still alive.”

“So this is all about you,” Reiselle said. “Good to know.”

“Stop this,” Baltus snapped. “Don’t antagonize me, Reiselle. I’m still your friend. You know I can’t turn any of you in.”

Some of the tension drained out of her as she sighed, “Yes, Derrick. We were friends. Just like you were friends with Gwen, and Milo, and Quentin, and Celeste, and everyone else who was killed by the person you still serve. Now you’re here saying that you have orders to return Catalin to Anwar, and you’re telling me not to antagonize you?”

“… I’m not going to take him back.” Baltus reached into his pocket, pulling out what appeared to be a ticket. “This is one boat ticket to Merin. And I’m giving Catalin one chance to take it.”

“The weather’s really warm there, Catalin,” Rakan said, trying to smile. “No one would recognize you. You’d love it.”

Slowly, Catalin straightened, pushing himself off the wall. He couldn’t quite explain it, but as everyone got more and more upset, he felt calmer. Baltus looked at him with that same stare he’d taken to mean that the soldier despised him. And all at once, he understood two things: that the expression wasn’t loathing, and it wasn’t directed towards him at all.

“Mr. Baltus,” he said quietly. “You’re here because of Celeste, right?”

Baltus paused before asking, “And what if I am?”

“Thank you.” Catalin moved past Chris to face Baltus. “But I decline.”

Baltus didn’t look surprised, but Rakan said, “Catalin, what are you saying?”

“That I’m not going to go to Merin. Or back to Anwar.” Catalin trembled, but said, “I’m going to stay here.”

“… you’ve proved your point,” Baltus said. “You’re tougher than I would have thought. Celeste would be very proud. But you have to understand, Catalin, she wasn’t thinking straight when she forced you into this. She just wanted to believe that her country still existed, she would have never wanted-”

“I don’t have any obligation to Celeste.” Catalin shook his head. “No one’s forcing me to do anything.” A wave of boldness seized him, and he asked, “You said Anwar doesn’t trust you, right? What if you told him that I was the one who burned that flag?”

“You realize you’ve just confessed to treason,” Baltus warned.

When Catalin nodded, Rakan begged, “Catalin, please. You know what I have to do.”

Finally, Catalin started to waver again. His shoulders slumped as he said, “Yes. And I know it’d be easier for you if I wasn’t part of that.”

“You know, then,” Baltus said, “that when I catch you in the act again, I’ll have to arrest you?”

“Yes,” Catalin said.

“And you know,” Baltus continued, “that some of these people might be using you.”

Catalin couldn’t bring himself to speak again, but he nodded.

“… then please.” Baltus pulled Celeste’s sword out of his belt, and tossed it to Catalin’s feet. “Feel free.” He turned to the door and began to walk. “As a courtesy, I’m going to forget that I’ve seen this place. But I’ll talk to you again soon, I suppose. Let’s go, Rakan.”

Rakan stayed where he was, looking at Catalin in disbelief. Catalin’s gaze fell to the floor as he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“… don’t be.” Rakan turned, and started to follow his master. “Get this out of your system while you can. But then I’m going to bring you home.”

As he slammed the door, the room’s frame trembled for a moment, and left a stunned stillness in its wake.