Chapter 74: Aayla

Charon sat in his seat, stunned. His food remained in front of him, his appetite gone with a single sentence. ’She gave her life? So she died so he wouldn’t have to. Is it because she intervened? Did she break some kind of rule so he could survive?’ Emerius didn’t elaborate. He simply stared down at the pit of the fruit he had been eating, his thumb rubbing the base of his silverware. The silence continued, not uncomfortable but instead, heavy. Full of memories and thoughts that Charon could never see. "I’m sorry." They were the only words he thought could fit, filled with a sincerity he truly meant. "I never had siblings, but I had other orphans who could be considered my brothers and sisters. Over time, I saw them grow up and leave, or be expelled for breaking the rules. Every time it hurt." His eyes softened. "I’ll never know what you went through, but I know your pain." Emerius looked up at him. His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes lightened a fraction. "I was twelve at the time." Charon’s breath caught. "Twelve? That must’ve been only a few years ago!" Emerius nodded. "She was fourteen at the time. I had neglected my training, believing that I was already strong enough to win whoever I faced. My opponent managed to disarm me and kick me to the ground. He was poised, ready to strike." His expression hardened. "Just as his sword was about to fall and kill me, she ran into the arena and cut his throat. It was an upset, a violation of justice." He sighed deeply. "The punishment for breaking the order of the Stadia is always the same: you must fight two ranks above your own. That meant she had to face an Apprentice mage. The gap in power was too extreme. My father made me watch as she was cut down." Emerius’ hands balled into fists. He raised one and slammed it onto the table, both of their plates jumping. "No, she was not cut down. She was butchered. A light mage is what did it. He speared her with a hundred blades, mocking her as he did it. Justice is what they called it. Justice for her daring to save her younger brother from death." Charon listened, his mind full of empathy. ’I was wrong, I don’t know this pain. This is nothing like I’ve ever experienced. It’s raw and personal, a wound that will never fade, no matter how much time passes.’ He also knew why he was sharing it. ’He wants to show that he doesn’t just trust me in spirit; he trusts me enough to share this. To let me see something that has been weighing on him for years. He wants to have a friend.’ Emerius gritted his teeth and continued, his tone shifting to something akin to contrition. "The worst part is that I hated her for it. My father had told all of us how shameful it was. That it was my burden to carry, and mine alone. That I should have died on the sand like a man." Charon couldn’t help but gasp. ’Blame her? She saved your life, and you blamed her? How could you do that? She gave everything so you could live!’ Emerius heard him and looked away, shame coloring his demeanor. "I did not know any better. I was told it was cowardice for her to lose control of her emotions. It made it easy to stomach her loss. We told ourselves that she did it to prove she was not weak." "We? You have other siblings?" He nodded. "I have an older brother and a younger sister. My brother was sixteen at the time. He had finished his Stadia in less than a week. He was always the gifted one in the family, and his example made me think that my fights would be no harder. When our sister died, he took it the hardest. He blamed himself." Emerius paused and shook his head. "He still does. He serves alongside my father now as an attendant. Meanwhile, I was sent to the Academy of Death. It is supposed to be my penance for allowing myself to be defeated." Charon didn’t respond right away. The grief hung in the air like a gas, wafting over them and making it harder to breathe. Thoughts spun in his head as he tried desperately to find a way to ease his friend’s burden, but there was nothing to do. Some scars can’t be fixed. "You shouldn’t have had to pay that price. Not her, and not you. What your father did is not okay." Emerius chuckled softly. "The truth is, he is not wrong. My father is strong-willed, some might even say cruel, but he is also extremely logical. Everything he did, everything he does, is for the benefit of the family. We all knew the rules when we entered the arena." He gave Charon a smile, one devoid of warmth. "I will carry the burden for the rest of my life. Every day I live, every spell I cast, and every fight I win were supposed to be hers. That is what I tell myself to keep going, even when I’m trapped in a realm I did not know existed." Charon scoffed at the barb, but knew no ill intent was meant. ’I suppose I did trap us here, I deserve that one. I’ll make up for it when I get us out.’ "What was her name?" Emerius gave him a strange look that lasted more than a moment before answering. "Aayla. She was named after one of the first Empresses of the Empire. My father said it was because they shared the same birthday, but I think he just liked the name." ’Aayla. That’s a pretty name. It’s a shame Emerius had to go through that.’ "You don’t hate your father for what he did?" Emerius shook his head and grabbed another fruit, peeling off the outer skin before scooping out the soft inside. Watching him reminded Charon of his own food, which he took another bite from. It was lukewarm now, but still delicious, the kind of cooking you couldn’t help but savor. ’I need to get him to teach me how to cook. With Wallflower helping me fight and him helping me feed myself, there is nothing I couldn’t face.’ "No, I do not. There are times when I feel like I should, but they never last. He has done too much for us. No other family in the Empire has access to some of the things we do, and that is only through his agreements with the royals. Without him and my grandfather, we would still be high nobility, but our power would be limited." Scrunching his nose as he ate, Charon couldn’t help feeling a little disgusted at that attitude. ’If I had a sister who died saving me, and someone insulted them, I wouldn’t care if they were family or not. They would be dead to me. I would curse their name until the day I died.’ It was more ruthless than Emerius was, built on the fact that Charon had lived a different life. He viewed things as black and white more often. The blonde swordsman didn’t seem to notice his disapproval, or perhaps he did but chose not to address it. He simply leaned back while chewing on a strange fruit, his mind wandering places known only to himself. Hoping to steer he conversation in another direction, Charon asked a question he had been wondering about. "What do you plan to do today?" His words caught his friends’ attention, who smiled knowingly. "I had been meaning to tell you about that. We are going to be joining the members of our mission on a tour of the Fort. As you have signed on for the Stadia, we may also stop there so you can show me your skills. I have heard you are quite the spectacle." Charon tilted his head, confused. "Who are the members of the mission?" Emerius waved the comment away as he stood, taking his plate and utensils to the sink. He placed them inside and tapped the front of the counter, a steady stream of water beginning to shoot from the faucet. "You will know them when you see them. They said they would meet us at the wall to the inner ring at noon." Charon sighed but nodded, content with the knowledge that his situation with Emerius had been rectified. ’One battle at a time. At least now I know some more about him. I never would have guessed that he had been through that, and there is probably more he hasn’t told me about yet.’ Looking out of the window, he saw the bright rays of sunlight piercing through the glass and illuminating the room. A frown crossed his face as he considered the position of the sun. "How do we know when it’s noon, anyway?"