18. Maelstrom

Lorenzo glanced up at the night. 

The snow had stopped. 

He sighed, his breaths rising in white plumes at the jagged ridges afield. Arrow-like pine trees shot up at the night sky as though hedges fencing the foothills, and whose encroaching umbrage rustled under the rising moon. Before a cluster of tents was erected the totem pole crested with the three-headed eagle. Arrayed in a crescent around the plinth were firebrands and banners emblazoned with the Legidus' leaping panther. On the snow-patched ground lay the decapitated body of the mole, the kitchen boy Pollux, whose head was impaled on a spike before the totem pole.

He raised an arm at the soldiers and produced a papyrus scroll from under his cloak. "I, Lorenzo of House Legidus, summon Ra, the lord of all gods," he proclaimed, looking upon the moon. "He who must undertake to reward you, brave warriors of Renania, for your piety and loyalty, to make you a resident in his kingdom, of this world or under, in prosperity and perpetuity, to supply you with never-dying happiness in body and soul!"

Men clamored, pumping their arms, their weapons of swords and spears an undulating glint under the glowing moon. 

Lorenzo gestured for them to quiet and flung his gaze at Ulpius Attianus. Guarded by Marius, Ulpius was free of bonds, his fawning smile a constant source of vexation. He stepped forward cautiously as if trawling a toe to test the temperature of a bath until Marius lost his patience and shoved him with a prod of his pommel. 

"Hurry the fuck up!" Marius growled. 

The prophet glared back. But when he returned his gaze to Lorenzo, so did the fawning smile. 

"Thank you, my lord, for the second chance," he hummed, dropping to his knees. "I will continue to serve you, as I've always had, till my last breath."

"And isn't it just annoying how your last breaths seem indefinite," Lorenzo japed but found little mirth in it. He drew his dagger from the holster girded to his belt; the steel whizzed coming out. "And who says this is your second chance? Once we're done here, I'll be done with you." He grabbed the prophet's wrist, turning the palm up. The dagger slashed hard on the soft skin between the palm lines. Ulpius winced. His face crumpled. His blood dripped. Lorenzo chucked away his dagger and shook his wrist, disgusted. 

On the ground, Ulpius opened his arms as he reared his head, humming an unintelligible hymn to the canopy of night studded with stars. 

"I had no choice, my lord," between the mumbling of the verses and runes, he interspersed a whisper, "The Scipios blackmailed me!"

The first soldier came forward and bent a knee before the prophet. Who squeezed his left hand and dabbed his blood across the soldier's forehead. The soldier closed his eyes and bowed before he got to his feet. 

"My lord," the whisper continued while Marius beat the drum. "The Scipios are scared! Their businesses are deeply entwined with the Gaius. With the Gaius gone, many of their crimes would surface. I can help you bring down both of them!" 

The second man came forth and kneeled. Ulpius repeated the process. 

"To rise to the top and bring down all men who had belittled you," the mumbling resumed before the third man got to his feet. "Isn't it what you've always wanted, my liege?" 

Lorenzo balled his hands, his jaw clenched, his tongue pushing the back of his front teeth. He couldn't deny the truth coming out of the foul mouth. "How?" He asked, barely moving his lips. 

"I've used the Scipio's service before," the prophet confessed; his voice quavered, skipping a few syllables. "I mean the bath. I admit, I got carried away. I went to the Scipios for them to help get rid of the bodies so I wouldn't cause you any trouble! Remus threatened to disclose my secret if I didn't levy the kitchen boy, and I did what he asked because I didn't want to tarnish the Legidus' name!" He cut himself short with a hum as another man came forward. 

Amused by his sycophancy so blatant it almost verged on honesty, Lorenzo snorted. 

"The Gaius and the Scipios are too strong to take down together, " the prophet went forth as soon as the third man rose and left. "Remus knows this. That's why he is covertly helping Julius. But now that we're here, I think we might as well snuff out the two houses, one at a time! I know…" 

Another beat of drum rumbled the earth. 

Ulpius cowered, shifting between his knees in the skirling valley wind. 

Despite his disgust, Lorenzo found himself intrigued by the proposal. "What do you know?" He hooded a hand over his lips. 

"The guard at the hypocaust," said the prophet in a fast clip. "His name is Hectius. No one has seen him since before the Pyrrhic finals. If we can find him and make him testify, I mean, not that I won't testify myself if it must come to it. I'll do it for you, my liege! For the Legidus! You know I will!"

Lorenzo rolled his eyes. His gaze fell on the hardened snow. Many times he had heard of the hypocaust and the dirty work the Scipio brothers had done. It didn't surprise him. What did was that even as pitiful a rat as Ulpius could avail himself of the service! 

No, he thought, it can't be it. The Scipios weren't generous because of Ulpius, but because Lorenzo refused to visit their brothel, the Scipio had to find a breach somewhere else, and they found it in his prophet! 

So, what did the Scipios want from him? 

Lorenzo gnashed his teeth. 

What was the endgame they had in mind? Would it cost him? To what extent? Or would he gain? Wheels screeched and spun round and round, going nowhere. And Lorenzo had decided that it didn't matter what the Scipios wanted. So long as he still had something they wanted shall validate him as a potential ally and keep him in the game. The question he should be asking directed him to look within: Should he, Lorenzo Lucretius Legidus, play this game to win or for the game to last? 

He reared his head. The sky was clear without a thread of cloud. A sardonic chuckle came to his threat as he heaved the brisk mountain air that prickled his nose like chips of ice. 

A sudden long howl turned his head, followed by a shrill cry. 

"Lorenzo of House Legidus! I condemn you for your cunning, your treachery, and your cravenness! For your cunning, you've executed without a trial Tribune Quirinus, the most valiant warrior who had kept your land safe! You left him decapitated and humiliated. Here is your proof." 

A weight wrapped in a sack scythed across the drape of night accompanied by a flaming arrow. The arrowhead stabbed into a patch of snow, and the sack bounced off, rolling away at the soldiers' feet. 

Lorenzo narrowed his eyes; his eyes roamed the men: All seemed aghast at the eerie caterwaul as though from another world. He plucked a firebrand from the ground and held it over his head. Cleaving through the men, he crouched before the sack. His eyes narrowed. The sack was in fact the Legidus' livery. 

"Open it!" he ordered. 

The soldier next to him gulped and obliged, drawing his sword across the fabric. 

Through the slash peered the warrior's braids bedight and scabbed with gore. Lorenzo lowered, his brows wringing in thoughts. The plan on the papyrus he had burned over the brazier never mentioned the head! And how else would Julius find out about Quirinus' death, or that he was decapitated? Unless the fickle Turisian sent the Tribune's head behind his back! 

Men quailed in whispers, whose various timbres echoed the same fear. 

"For your treachery!" The eerie voice resumed in a reversal effect against the wind while two flame arrows wooshed, each followed by a different head wrapped in livery. "You've sent assassins after Lady Ariadne Livia Uranus, whom you've given your words to protect! Here is your proof!"

"I did not!" Lorenzo snapped. "I did not send assassins after the lady!" He shot to his feet, feigning indignation while imploring the men. His heart sank a few notches at their gaping eyes. 

"And for your cravenness!" The voice rumbled on. "In the name of Kish, I condemn you! The dead shall laugh upon you as shall the living despise you! 

If you wish to prove me wrong, come up and fight!

If you deserve the grace of Ra, come up and fight! 

If you are worthy of the pride bestowed on men, 

Come up and fight! 

I call upon you, Lorenzo Lucretius Legidus, and all your men!

Come up and fight, so your seance won't forfeit! 

Come up and fight, for the names you shall honor, 

The children you shall father, 

And the women you shall take to wife! 

Come up and fight!"

Shadows sashayed; fire sputtered. The voice ceased while the wind continued to shriek. A squawking falcon glided across the cold moon. 

"Ahmed!" Lorenzo bawled; his glaring eyes panned the crowds at large. 

Scuffing his feet, the Turisian padded to the front; a facetious smile jiggled his cheeks. 

"How dared you send men behind my back?" 

Ahmed shrugged, framing a reply. "Well, you've all been dawdling here, no offense. Somebody had to do something. Besides–"

Lorenzo cut him short. "I don't care what you have to say for yourself! This is our war! Fought between the Renanians!" He leaned forward, boring into Ahmed's obsidian eyes, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword in sheath. "Your service is no longer needed! Now get the fuck out of my face!"

"Are you sure, Lord Lorenzo?" The Turisian whipped up a mocking laugh. "I still have the mercenaries under my command."

"The mercenaries," Lorenzo scoffed, raising his voice for everyone to hear. "Any of the sellswords is free to leave with this man. But if you do now, you won't see the rest of your emolument! You have my word!" Raising the firebrand over his head, he took a step back and unsheathed the blade to level it at the Turisian. 

Who smirked, putting up both hands; wrinkles folded around the nasal bridge and spread to either eye like tracery. "No harsh feelings, m'lord. I'll be out of your hair." As his voice fell, he turned on his heel, whistling a bawdy verse while his shadows blended into the vignette outline of the night. 

We need him to run back and inform the Turisian armies, the papyrus instructed as Lorenzo distinctively remembered. We need him to tell when you will launch the faux attack so we don't have to wait on them. Waiting in the cold can't be good for our men. 

Lowered the blade in his hand, Lorenzo proclaimed. "You were all with me in the battle when the Turisian killed Tribune Quirinus, whom I would have kept hostage! And I promise you on the honor of my house," His voice splintered, devoured by the howling wind; he hawked to resume. "I have never resorted to cheap tricks, nor have I ever sent assassins after Lady Ariadne!" He paused again, this time intentionally, thudding his blade on the ground. It made little impact on the frozen soil but ran up his arm; his old bones shuddered. 

"We've all heard the message from the Underworld," he went on in short breaths. "Is it frightening? I'll be lying if I deny it. But valor isn't about having no fear but pushing forth despite it! And I say, tonight, valor is on our side!"

Eyes of many shapes and colors swung at one another, grit sprouting where fear lingered. 

"Men of Renania!" Lorenzo pressed on. "My brothers! My sons! So long as I live, you shall not starve! And if life shall end tonight, you'll always find sanctuary in the Hall of Legidus in the Underworld. You have my word!" He chucked away the firebrand and slashed his own palm this time with his sword. Blood gushed out, gooey and warm, thawing his frostbitten hand with a numbing pain. He forwent a wince. "What say you? My brothers! My sons! What say you that tonight, we take the north!" 

Behind him came Ulpius' tearful chant, "Aye!". The rest joined him, and whose cry of faith ricocheted the valley. 

A blood-sodden hand clawed into Lorenzo's elbow like a hawk's talon. Lorenzo jolted around and met Ulpius' murky eyes. 

"As I was saying," the prophet leaned in, sputtering the words next to his ear. "I can help you bring down the Scipios once we crush the Gaius by winning this war. And to win this war–" A soldier trotting to his position bumped the scrawny geezer on the side. Ulpius shambled to balance before he raised his sallow face at Lorenzo. "And to win this war," he resumed. "Julius Gaius must die." 

 Under the cold gaze of the moon, Lorenzo cocked a brow. "What about Ariadne?"

The prophet snickered. "If you can bring down the Gaius and the Scipios, why not the Uranus as well? Others might be fooled, but I know you, my lord. And I think that you should take down the Uranus altogether is the plan that Underdog has in store for you the whole time. Why else would he be devoted to you if he didn't wish to rise along when you rule supreme? Unfortunately for him, however, he didn't know about the hypocaust, which should be the last nail you, my lord, shall hammer on the Uranus' sarcophagus."

Knowing all too well that alliances were as steadfast as a lover's heart fickle heart, Lorenzo felt nonetheless taken aback by the tenuous line between a friend and a foe.