The knife’s edge kept grazing his skin and knicking it. He could feel the beads of blood forming in the small cuts, along with an annoying sting. It was because of Giovannus’ shaking arm holding it. The arm holding Augustus’ torso also seemed to shiver, the palm of his hand was damp with sweat while holding his bicep.

“Giovannus,” Augustus said, “there’s no way you’ll make it out of this city alive. Don’t you see that? The magistrates won’t allow one of their own to be killed without retribution. Once they declare what you’ve done, no captain will risk their anger by allowing you passage.”

“They will. I just need to motivate them properly.”

“You won’t be getting any more coin from our family. Your connection to the Castellians is severed, after what you’ve done. Will you pay the captain’s exorbitant fee? Will you pay for more guards to make sure they don’t just rob you on the voyage and deliver your cold corpse to the magistrates for a reward?”

This attack by Giovannus was insanity. Maybe that was a valid excuse for his lack for foresight. How could he be expected to predict what someone so detached from rationality will do? Giovannus’ actions sealed his fate, and what did he gain from this? Nothing of value. Only the abstract concept of revenge.

“There are other ways out of this city. I can trek through the mountains.”

Augustus laughed. A purposeful chuckle meant to annoy Giovannus. “And will you make that trek alone? Or will you bring your wife? I never thought of you as an outdoorsman.”

The range behind the city of Venocia was treacherous. Sheer cliffs, falling rocks, raging rivers, and wild animals. Those mountains had been Venocia’s shield from covetous neighbours. A series of watchtowers were constructed there, at enormous cost, set up as an early warning system. They could also be used to watch for fugitives trying to flee from the city. Any trails found there would be intentionally obstructed. If Giovannus really thought about trekking through the mountains, he was grasping at straws.

“Be quiet,” Giovannnus fumed.

“Or what? You’ll slit my throat? You already said that I was dead no matter what.”

“Augustus, please, just be quiet,” said Marielle with her soft voice. A voice that wanted more than anything to bring calmness to the intense situation. She looked at him with begging eyes, and a slight frown. “I know what you’re trying to do–Don’t.”

Why hadn’t she already left? She should just leave, run, through the gates of the Castellian estate, to the docks, across the sea, and all the way back to her homeland. This place has been nothing but a disaster for her. All that Castor had promised her family had turned to dust, and yet now, she didn't want to run. She didn't want Augustus to sacrifice himself either.

He decided to ignore her plea and pressed further. "I was told by father to make sure Marcus didn't return to Venocia. If I hadn't hung him, he would have met some other end, maybe pushed off the side of his ship during the voyage back. It would have been a quicker death than the one he got though. You see, I made sure he was beaten first. Yander and Heratio beat him until their fists hurt. It was a necessary measure, a long drawn out display in front of his crew, to make sure they had the opportunity to act, but didn't."

The knife dug into his neck a bit, enough to leave a gash, but not deep enough to be a serious wound.

"Augustus!" Shouted Marielle. "You can both still walk away from this. Giovannus, you know you're dead if you kill him, right? There's no escape. Yet still, you hesitate. You can't do it, can you?"

She was right. Giovannus had walked up to a cliff, ready to leap, but at the precipice, he had faltered. Fear of death, it's a difficult thing to overcome. Likewise, if Augustus were of stronger will, he would have thrust his throat forward, into the awaiting edge, making it so that Gillivan could act while he still held some strength. But he couldn't do it. Instead, he tried to taunt Giovannus.

"I just need to wait a little bit longer," said Giovannus.

Gillivan sat there, listing to one side more and more with each moment. He clutched his stomach, holding his tunic against his wound as a temporary bandage to slow the bleeding. His eyes were locked on Giovannus, like a bull watching its prey.

“Will things have changed so much then?’ asked Marielle as she took another step forward. Despite her slender and frail appearance normally, she was a frightful sight. Speckles of blood littered her face, and from her waist down, she was drenched in it. She began to come too close, so close she was within striking distance of Giovannus, which would start to make him nervous. She held her empty hands out laterally, trying to quell his fears, but still, it was too close. “Then, as it is now, that irreversible act will seal not only his fate but yours too, Giovannus. I don’t think you have it in you, to seal your own fate like that.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

She took another step forward.

“Stay back!”

“Or what? Or you’ll kill Augustus? I don’t believe you.” She locked eyes with Augustus, then smiled faintly. She took another step forward.

Giovannus jabbed with his knife forward, removing it from Augustus’ neck and going for an attack on the encroaching Marielle. Marielle ducked, likely having anticipated this attack.

Augustus acted on instinct, acting out of a new and powerful sense of fear, not for his own life, but for Marielle’s. He moved his arms suddenly, breaking Giovannus’ hold around him, and reached quickly, grabbing Giovannus’ arm that had gone for his wife. He used all of his strength to hold it in place so that he could neither go after Marielle nor bring the knife back to his neck.

When Marielle reemerged from her dodge, she had a knife, coming from nowhere at all. She brought it up and sliced it into Giovannus’ wrist that was held in place, an easy target. The cut was deep, deep enough to sever tendons. His hand just flopped open and the knife fell to the ground and blood flowed out of the wound.

After that, Giovannus just gave up. His other arm, still unharmed, dropped to his side, and Augustus squirmed away from his brother without protest. As he moved away, he kicked the knife, sliding it across the floor.

Giovannus just slumped against the wall, one hand holding the other arm’s wrist. The blood still flowed, dripping from the gaps between the fingers. He looked at nothing in particular, but his eyes moved rapidly. He was in deep consideration, likely thinking of all the mistakes he had made that had resulted in his end here.

He would soon lose enough blood to end up like Gillivan. He hadn’t even tried to stand during the commotion, still sitting in the same place. His eyes still locked on Giovannus. He was still conscious, but only barely.

“Marielle, we need a physician for Gillivan if he is going to live. Throw on something warmer, get a lantern and head to the main gate.”

“No,” came a hoarse voice from the bed, “don’t… send Marielle out there… alone. Send someone else, send a servant.”

“There’s no time to find the servants, they’re dead for all we know,” said Augustus. His breathing was heavy, and his body trembled. “Marielle, if you encounter anyone on the way to the gate, just run back here, don’t even try to talk to them. I’ll do what I can here to stop his bleeding.”

Marielle nodded. She reached out her hand and grabbed his then placed her knife in it. “Stay safe.” She opened a closet, grabbed a cloak, then ran out of the room.

He kept his attention on Giovannus as he moved over to Gillivan. He checked the wound. It was a deep stab into the torso. Augustus took one of his robes from out of the closet and wrapped it around the wound tightly. It was an expensive robe, of brilliant yellow colour, and this would ruin it. But that didn’t matter. Gillivan had proven himself a loyal and valiant guard.

“Giovannus, you said I killed your lover twice over before. Who was the second one?”

He was still deep in thought. The question interrupted it, reigniting his anger–and his sorrow. He was on the verge of crying. Imminent death was said to stir up emotions.

“Perchello, a beautiful slave boy. He always had a kind smile on his face. He never hurt anyone.” He smiled, entranced by the memory.

“I see, Marcus gave you his perversion. He betrayed our family. Look what he did to you, what he did to our family.”