The meeting, my first, was intimidating. I had been invited by the master of the 13th Hand himself, but I had little understanding of what that meant at the time. This was my first time down in the Labyrinth too, and though I had been lead here on the orders of Aurelius by the strange Wildborn, I had to stop almost every minute to look in wonder around me.
The chamber where we met, the black and white-feathered explained, was not well-known and had by chance not appeared on the charts and maps of the Labyrinth known and published. The walls were made of a strange smooth stone, and veined with the legendary pyronox, and the only light that shone on the stone seats around a low table were provided by a few oil lamps. I could barely make out the figures seated around.
“Ah, our newest member, please, welcome and take a seat there, thank you Commander Karpinnen, for conveying her,” a voice spoke, and I recognised it as Aurelius, the master of the 13th Hand.
I had known little about the 13th Hand, and I suppose that was intentional, but I did know a little of Aurelius — famed bodyguard to King Lucrece. As he had explained, when recruiting me, the 13th Hand worked to the betterment of Thyslann, crossing lands, provinces and states.
“Anything to report Harri?” Aurelius addressed the strange Wildborn who had guided me.
“Yes. The Duchess has been most forthcoming and has agreed to bequeath an endowment to the orphanage,” Karpinnen replied. Aurelius nodded in response.
“That's incredible! Great work,” an elderly, reedy voice piped up.
“I agree with Pont,” another, cheerful and friendly joined in, “Hello! I am Taki, from the Collective. Has your journey been long? Here, I've brought some soup.” The Muella suddenly appeared at my side and produced a bowl from somewhere that immediately delighted me with its smells.
“I hear the Collective needs further assistance Taki. What can I send you?” yet another voice spoke from the shadows. This one was kind, but seemingly ageless. The impression of the figure in the shadow was one of grandeur. Was that… draconic wings?
“Oh, no thank you, Arc, we are managing! Rather, is there anything we can help anyone with? Perhaps with all those Reforms going on at Primus we can do something, Pont? Aurelius?” Taki asked, smiling.
“You have already done more than enough, Taki, as have others from the Collective. But we must safeguard travellers and trade — it is a lifeline for Primus at the moment,” Aurelius agreed.
“I have arranged to lower some tariffs by the Word-Keepers, but they are as ever grumpy,” the last voice said, bright and cocky, that of a young Dragonblooded.
“Thank you, Princess,” Aurelius nodded. Princess?!?!
“Please, Aurelius, you have got to stop calling me that. Just Hestina will do when we're not at formal occasions,” the voice replied. Hestina?! One of the Imperial Princesses!
“Yes, of course, your- Hestina, thank you. If the Grandmaster is less amenable, perhaps we need to speak to the Principia again,” Aurelius offered.
“I am not sure she will listen to me, but maybe one of my aunts? I'll think on it,” Hestina replied. I was still in shock.
“And that brings us finally to our newest member,” Aurelius said, somberly, “thank you for joining us. As you can see, we are quite busy, and need more eyes, ears and… hands… to help those who need help.”
— From the unpublished memoirs of Ilina Kostavi, member of the 13th hand
[CW: Discussion of Loved One Dying]
It has been years since Aurelius had last moved from roof top to roof top like this. The architecture of Fort Primus is unparalleled, and oh how it feels so good to be back. As he makes the turn from the principal turrets up into the residential estate of one of the city’s great forge masters, the guards are none the wiser. He finds his way to the latch on the window left opened by the connection he leveraged in the keep and finds his way into the room. Aurelius has learnt a lot from his time away but violence is still the language of the Legion and he grew up speaking it fluently.
He pulls out the sceptre and freezes the sheets to the bed. “Who are you, what is it you want?”
“The 13th Hand, turned inwards. We want what is best for the Legion. Pass the housing reform bill tomorrow.”
“But that would be impossible!”
“You have the votes and leverage, we have made sure of that – this is not the only operation happening tonight”
“But why?”
“For the legion, do this and your life will be spared”
Years Pass
Aurelius has found his way into the imperial quarters of Lucrece yet again. They are drunk, yet again.
“You really do need better guards”, Aurelius spars.
“Well perhaps you need to get worse at sneaking into royal quarters. I could have your head for this”, Lucrece parries,
“I would like to see you try.”
They burst into laughter. The years have treated Lucrece well. Her station has really seen her flourish. They both were showing the weather lines of age on their bodies as there is always a toll to the kind of work they do.
“And how is everything faring in Fort Primus”
“Well, my liege“ –
“Please stop calling me that”
“Well, my friend“ –
“Better”
“Slowly but surely. Years have passed and I think I can say there is starting to be a tangible difference in the streets, in the people and in how the Legion carries itself. There is hope yet.”
“Be careful Aurelius.”
“As always, My liege.”
“I wasn’t joking about the capital punishment!”
A Lifetime
Aurelius has noticed the exhaustion of his bones starting to set. He remembers when Atticus first spoke of his exhaustion. He remembers the day his love passed. In his arms. They had lived lives intertwined for so long, that he can’t help but to slip back into those glorious memories as he slides down the hall.
There are children playing in the square. Aurelius smiles to himself. A new age has found its way into the lungs of his people. And though his lungs are getting heavier and heavier every day, his heart seems lighter – prone to jumping to bouts of happiness. Old age suits Aurelius, if not for what’s left to come but for what he was able to accomplish. Not alone, never alone. He looks into that courtyard, lets the echoes of laughter wash over him, and knows – deep in his bones – he has succeeded.
—Written by Joel A.