Chapter III

“The Father has seen fit to grant one of our own a vision,” Felix began, addressing the crowd gathered before him. Dario glanced around at his brothers-in-arms, comforted by the simple fact that not a single one of them seemed to suspect that he was the one to whom the vision had been given. “In this vision there were creatures living below the surface. Monsters who have the bodies of men and the faces of nightmares. They had a thriving society built deep under the ground. More importantly, a man from the surface, western, judging by his clothing, appeared in this vision. He shined light upon the creatures in the underworld and smiled. It is my belief that whoever this man is he intends to lead the monsters from below to the surface.” The justicars murmured at the words of the Revered Son. Felix raised a hand and the murmuring stopped instantly. “Now, admittedly this vision is not much to go on. Nevertheless, we cannot ignore it. For this reason, I am sending the following justicars to investigate the entrances to every major mine in the West. When you hear your name step forward. Stephen, Titus, Florence, Guido, Magnus...”

Felix rattled off a long list of names. All the while Dario waited to hear his name. Surely, since it was his vision he was meant to investigate the matter, right? But Felix came to the end of his list, “Rufus, Roy, Yohan, and Nikolus. Each of you will investigate a different mine in the West in order to find the entrance to this underground city. Once you have found it you are not to act on your own, you are to report back here with your findings. The rest of you will resume your usual duties. Dismissed.”

As the rest of his brethren dispersed, Dario stood in confusion and stared at Felix. Felix returned his gaze only for a moment. Surely he saw the silent question Dario was asking, but he said nothing and left the Sanctuary of the Father. Was Dario not meant to investigate the reason for the vision the Father had given him? Dario stared up at the statue of the Father in the sanctuary, up at that stern face. Silently he prayed for answers. Why had he been granted this vision if he was not to do anything about it? But the Revered Son represented the Father's will. “It is not our place to question the Father's will, only to fulfill it.” Dario's own words repeated in his head, and he realized then just what an infuriating answer that was.

It was just as well, for Dario had made a promise to Ovid the previous evening, and since he was staying he was bound to fulfill it. Ovid and Dario met on the training ground. Ovid had his wooden practice sword and shield ready, as did Dario.

“Alright, then. Let us begin,” said Dario. “Let's start with something very important, show me how you block.” Ovid raised his shield. “No, what I mean is, I'm going to swing my sword at you and I want you to block it.”

“Oh. Alright.”

Dario swung his sword at Ovid's right. Ovid raised his shield and caught Dario's strike on the flat of it. “Quick reflexes, but definitely the wrong way to block,” said Dario. “Imagine if I had a sword made of steel and I swung it with all my might, why would blocking that the way you did be a bad idea?”

“I don't know...” said Ovid.

“Because the force of such a blow could still break your arm,” said Dario. “The middle of your shield is for blocking arrows, that sort of thing. Use the edges when someone swings a sword at you. And don't just block, deflect. Here, take a swing at me and I'll show you.”

Ovid nodded and threw his wooden sword forward with all of his might. Dario pushed Ovid's blade to the side with his shield. As Ovid stumbled forward in the direction in which his sword had been deflected, Dario tapped him on the back with his own wooden sword.

“That's the other reason why you deflect,” said Dario. “And also why you have to be careful throwing everything you've got behind every swing.”

Dario went on training Ovid, teaching him that real sword-fighting was nothing like what he saw in stage plays, or anything like what he used to do playing with his friends. Continuously clacking your sword against your opponents was a good way to ruin your sword. And get killed. The more Ovid learned the more Dario encouraged him, and the bigger Ovid's smile became.

All the while Azalea watched from just outside the Sanctuary of the Mother. She said nothing. She simply gave an approving smile and stood with her arms folded under her bosom. She always loved to watch Dario with children; to watch him act as a father to these boys. Granted, as was true with all of the Justicars and Acolytes of the Father in the abbey, any one of the children there could quite possibly be his child. Well, any of them six-years-old or younger, anyway. Obviously, Ovid was not his child. Still, sometimes when Azalea watched Dario playing with or teaching Virgil, a boy of six who shared Dario's long, curly black hair, she couldn't help but wonder if those were moments Dario spent with his true son.

Such thoughts were forbidden, however. Acolytes, justicars, and redeemers were all taught to live by the philosophy that their only true father was The Father, their only true mother was The Mother, and they were all family by that divine connection. Anything less than that was favoritism, and impeded justice and fairness.

Dario and Ovid both stopped to catch their breath after over an hour of practice with no break. It was only then that Dario looked up and saw Azalea watching him, and the affection in her eyes. When their eyes met, that affection turned to hunger, a hunger he was suddenly just as eager to satisfy. He patted Ovid on the head. “Good practice today, boy. Now, you should study. Read the scriptures, particularly the gospels of Divi Filius.”

“Yes, sir!” said Ovid before running off.

Dario watched the boy leave, and then made his way over to Azalea. “I would be delighted to take comfort in your embrace,” he said. The words were meant to sound impersonal. The redeemers and justicars were, for each other, simply there to fulfill a need that was no different than a need for food and drink. Still, Dario gave Azalea a look which told her how much he desired her specifically in that moment.

Azalea returned the seductive look and said, “Follow me.” Dario followed Azalea to her bedroom, and as soon as the door was closed the two of them fell upon her soft bed. They kissed each other's lips and clawed at each other's bodies, and their clothes seemed to simply melt away. They held each other and rolled and wrestled in her bed, knocking the bedsheets and blankets on the ground. Their moans of ecstasy filled the room, until both of their bare bodies collapsed in bliss.

The two of them lay on the bed for many a minute, letting the cool air of the room chill their sweat as they caught their breath.

“It's been...ages...” Azalea said between gasps.

Dario mumbled something in response. Azalea couldn't quite make it out, but hearing him make such sounds made her feel proud. She turned on her side and curled her body up next to his, with an arm across his muscular chest. Azalea traced circles on Dario's chest with her fingers, teasing and tickling his skin. Dario, in turn, ran his fingertips down Azalea's side, feeling the curve of her hip.

“I love you, Azalea,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Dario,” she whispered in return, and kissed his cheek.

Dario released a heavy sigh. “I still have duties I need to attend to today.”

“Do we really have to leave this bedroom? Why can't we just stay here, holding each other and making love forever?”

“Because we have to return to the real world.”

Yes, the “real world,” where the two of them pretended that they felt no differently about each other than they did for the rest of their family. The “real world,” where they had to constantly lie and keep secrets. If any world was real it was the one they were in whenever they were alone in the bedroom, where all pretenses, masks, and disguises were shed, and the truth was bare.

Azalea pouted as Dario rose from her bed and began to dress. He was right, they could not stay in that room, locked away from the outside world forever. They needed to return to the masquerade outside those doors.

There was no need to hide the looks of satisfaction on their faces as they left the Redeemers' Hall, just a need to conceal how deeply fulfilled they both felt. Azalea returned to her other duties, teaching those fugitives who had sought reformation and redemption in the abbey how they might better their lives. Dario returned to his duties, which, at the moment, consisted of flogging the prisoners brought to the abbey to face justice. Neither of them were truly in their work that day. All either of them could think about was how much they lamented the fact that they would never be free to openly express their love. Dario almost lost count of how many lashes he'd given each prisoner, and Azalea was simply reciting the Mother's Holy Teachings from memory.

Dario channeled his frustration into the lash, and the screams of the prisoners made up for the shouting he held in. He'd long since gotten past feeling sympathy for these men whom he punished. All of them were thieves, brigands, rapists, and murderers. It was his job to deal out punishment to those who caused so much hurt, and there was a satisfaction in it none but a justicar could understand.

Lash. Scream.

“Dario.”

Lash. Groan.

“Dario.”

Lash. Silence.

“Dario!”

“What?” Dario snapped out of his daze.

“Thirty lashes! That's all you were supposed to give! By the Father, you might have killed this man!” The acolyte rushed over to the prisoner strapped down before Dario. The flesh of the man's back was striped with blood. “He's still breathing. Lucky for you. Seriously, what were you thinking? Forty-five lashes?”

“I...I lost count,” said Dario.

“If justice for this man meant death they would have executed him when he first arrived. Obviously, the Revered Son felt this man can be redeemed. The redeemers won't get a chance to help him if you whip him to death.”

“I'm sorry. My mind wandered. I won't let it happen again.”

“You'd better not,” said the acolyte. “I'm telling the Revered Son about this.”

“As you should,” said Dario. “I will accept any punishment he wishes to hand down. In the meantime, however, we should get this man to the Acolytes of the Mother for healing, don't you think?”

“Take him there yourself. It's the least you can do to make amends.”

Dario said nothing more. He simply nodded and removed the unconscious prisoner from the rack. He slung the thief's body over his shoulder and carried him to the Sanctuary of the Mother. The acolytes there anxiously took the bleeding prisoner from Dario and said their prayers over him as Dario walked away. “Miserere Matris. Miserere Matris. Miserere Matris.”

Across the field Dario could see the Revered Son, and the Revered Son had spotted him. Dario glanced at the abbey's gates for a fleeting moment. A part of him wanted to run rather than face whatever punishment the Revered Son decided Dario deserved. He knew what would happen if he ran, however. He would be violating his vows to the Father, vows he swore to keep under pain of death. Every justicar in the abbey would be able to sense his location when they meditated. He could make it out the front gates easily enough, but the other justicars would find him in time, and he would not survive that fight.

Dario decided that there was no point in delaying the inevitable, and so he closed the distance between he and the Revered Son. Felix was far smaller than Dario, but the way Dario hung his head one could swear he was cowering before a giant.

Felix shook his head. “To my office. Now.”

“Yes, your grace,” said Dario.

The two of them retreated to Felix's office. Dario had been here many times before, both to receive missions and to receive discipline. To this day, the stuffed birds that lined the walls always made Dario feel like he was under the eyes of a pitiless court.

Felix's chair creaked as he sat down. “The man you flogged...were the acolytes able to save him?”

“Yes,” said Dario. “As I left they were closing his wounds.”

“Did this particular prisoner do anything to upset you? I mean...I know all of them are criminal scum who have done terrible things, but did this one offend you more than the others?”

“No.”

“You had nothing personal against him?”

“I did not.”

“Then, I must ask, why the extra lashes?”

Dario sighed. “My mind was elsewhere. I was...in a daze.”

Felix hung his head and struck his chest three times with his fist. “Mea culpa,” he said. “Mea culpa. My fault, my fault...”

“Your holiness?”

“Last night the Father granted you a vision, a vision of a terrible threat to us all. When you told me about it I knew someone had to do something to answer this threat, but you were so terrified I worried that sending you to deal with it would lead to your death. I cannot ask even the bravest of justicars to face something which frightens them so. That is why I did not send you to investigate the mines, but because you were not sent to meet this threat you could think of nothing else, and so your mind was not on your work. What man can focus while such a vision is fresh in his mind? It was because of this that you were...how did you put it? In a daze. It was my fault the prisoner received so many lashes.”

Dario was, at first, relieved, but then horrified that the Revered Son was blaming himself. A part of him wanted to tell Felix the truth so he could alleviate his guilt. At the same time, however, he knew that in order to alleviate Felix's guilt he'd have to tell him the whole truth, and then both he and Azalea would suffer terrible repercussions. Dario gritted his teeth as he came to grips with the horrible reality that he was going to let his mentor and friend blame himself over this.

“It is true,” said Dario. “But I still deserve punishment. I should have realized I was distracted and excused myself.” Some sort of punishment to even out the scales. Yes, Dario would accept anything that might keep the Father's wrath from blazing against him.

“No punishment, but I cannot risk this happening again,” said Felix. “Perhaps something to take your mind off of all this? I'll send you on a mission. When the acolyte came to me I was actually on my way to find a justicar to handle this matter. I'm sure it's something you can accomplish, and it will distract you from that nightmarish vision.”

“What quest do you have for me?” asked Dario.

“Justicars have long been searching for a woman called 'The Vice Queen.' Have you heard of her?”

“She owns everything from brothels to taverns to gambling dens, from what I hear.”

“Indeed. She's also the kingpin...or queenpin...what have you...of the slave trade. The same ships used to bring in opiates from the island colonies transport slaves as well. A rescued slave even informed one of our justicars that several of the harlots in her brothels are actually slaves as well. This is an injustice we cannot endure!”

“I couldn't agree more,” said Dario.

“We've narrowed down the Vice Queen's most likely location to three cities. So far that's the best we have. I want you to travel to these cities and discover which one the Vice Queen calls home. When you find it return to the abbey, report her location to us, and we will send a regiment of justicars to capture her and kill her underlings. With the Vice Queen gone the slave trade will finally crumble.”

“I will find the Vice Queen, your holiness.”

“Come now, Dario, remember that in private you may call me 'Felix.' I am as much family to you as anyone else in this abbey.”

“Thank you, Felix,” said Dario. “As I said, I will discover the location of the Vice Queen, and I will return once I know where she is.”