Salomeid/2

The Night

Mira II's body had been washed and dressed in a simple, white robe, then kept cold for its return to Kezan, under the watchful eye of Mira III. It was a long flight across the sea, in which she could not help but think about her circumstances. The first Mira had died during the chaos in Shirekeep after the fall of Dominus. Mira III had been 12 years old at the time. The second Mira now also had died in Shirekeep. Without hesitation, her, Mira III, did her duty and prostrated herself before the Kaiser, swearing the oath that transferred the title of Countess of Shirekeep to her. Now, with an abundance of time to think, the reverberating hum of the pinnace's engines the only sound surrounding her, she wondered, how long will it be before the Imperial Capital came to claim my own life as well?

Jamie III, sitting beside Mira in the pinnace's main cabin, wrapped one of her arms around Mira and squeezed her tight. Mira vaguely noticed the hug's warmth and pressure. When she turned to hug her cousin back, all her strength could only muster a limp and ineffectual gesture. The two of them had grown up together unexpectedly closely -- at least unexpectedly for their respective elders. The previous generations of Mira and Jamie, while never withholding familial love and care, were never especially attached to one another. Their tight bond was an aberration that went against the pattern that the first generation had established and the second generation had confirmed. It meant that, when the two of them were old enough to be assigned to older members of the family to shadow and assist, the separation was similarly-unexpected in its difficulty. In the years since then, they kept in touch by correspondence, but their family's work only rarely brought them together again. Mira III spent hers in Kezan, with the majority of the family, while Jamie III, ironically, had been deployed to assist the elder Mira out on the continent, in Shirekeep. With that task complete, Jamie would be returning to Kezan, and, once the period of mourning had concluded, Mira would be sent to Benacia.

More members of the House of Octavius greeted their pinnace once it finally settled onto the landing pad at Fort Kezan. Aina II, the elder Mira's sister, greying hair sticking out from underneath her black veil, led the group in procession, carrying the body off the airfield and to the family's nome.

At the gatehouse, an ulaphephore offered incense to the party and to the body, then led the procession across the nome's grounds to the mortuary hall. There, the body was placed upon a platform and surrounded by an arrangement of bellflowers, their house's symbol. The ulaphephore began chanting prayers, circling the body and offering incense for the newly deceased. Once he completed the dirge, an assisting zonophore took the censor, offered incense to the people there, and chanted a prayer for the living.

The prayers and offerings completed, the family began to disperse. The Aryani would keep vigil over the body first.

Mira III, unable to sleep, instead took to wandering the grounds at Fort Kezan.

It was a chilly night, unusually so for that time of year in Kezan. Mira could see wisps of vapor trail upwards as people exhaled. She wrapped her blank, woolen shawl closely around her, shivering slightly in the cold, wandering for hours, above her the stars slowly performing their own procession for the dead. Eventually, she found her way back to the nome and its tight cluster of buildings. A small portico, that of the syndomate dormitory, still had a light glowing in the dark. Mira wondered how many members of her family had foregone sleep and had taken to walk.

As she passed by the portico, two figures in black shifted slightly in their seats. One was her cousin, Jamie III. The other was a young man. Thin, narrow framed, pale with a hint of pinkness. They had fallen asleep keeping eachother warm.

Mira nudged her cousin, and both were startled awake. It was almost time for the Leilani to hold their vigil. Jamie whispered into the young man's ear, then stood and joined her cousin on the walk towards the mortuary hall. The young man remained seated and instead watched the sky.

"Who's the boy." Mira III asked her cousin, once enough distance had been made.

"He's Kezanese. We met in Shirekeep. The—umm—" Jamie's face became flushed with red, "...eldest Jamie introduced us. He's really nice."

Mira rolled her eyes. Boys. "He looks young."

"He is, a little. Not by much. His parents... they're are really nice." Jamie's voice cooed. "He—umm—insisted on taking a separate flight from us. For propriety's sake."

"I suppose I'll need to get to know him." Mira said, flatly.

Jamie blushed. "Perhaps."

The two paused briefly under the mortuary hall's portico. The outer glass doors, were closed, while the inner wooden doors were open, allowing them to see into the inner room. From their angle, it barely seemed as if there were a body, just a heap of flowers. The Adelaidini encircled it, a couple sitting, the others standing, one of them, Aunt Erin, was reciting from a book over the body. Some of the Leilani had already begun to gather between the two sets of doors, waiting for their turn holding vigil. One of them waved Jamie in.

Mira and Jamie hugged, and the two went their separate ways.

"...until stout-­hearted he knows clearly to where thought of his heart will turn. A wise man must understand how terrifying it will be, when the riches of all this world stand deserted, as now in..."

The door slit shut again. Mira now felt ready sleep, and perhaps to stay there.

The Morning

At dawn, the body was wrapped up together with the flowers, all contained and bound tightly within a shroud. The family then carried the body out from the mortuary hall to the burial grounds, led by a group of clerics.

At the designated plot, the shrouded body was lowered in and slumped onto the dirt. The ulaphephore offered incense and chanted quietly, while members of the family each spoke a few words and poured dirt atop the body with a shovel. Once they had each taken their turn, the junior clerics filled in the rest.

"...when I am laid in the ground, may my transgressions trouble your hearts no more."

The ulaphephore completed his chant and poured the remaining incense out of the censor onto the fresh grave, then a wooden plaque was placed on top and pressed into the dirt. It read:

αλλοτε εκεκλημην

η Μιρα Οκταυια της δευτερας

As they filed back out from the burial grounds, Soraya II lifted her eyes to see a wall of plaques. One in particular stuck out to her:

περιμενω

την Χαιδιν Οκταυιαν της πρωτης

That sign was heavily worn from decades of hanging there, waiting.

"How are the Gen Fives?" Soraya asked Aunt Erika. The reception had been going on for several hours by that point. Faces that hadn't seen each other in years got to catch up. Erika I, in particular, had unintentionally been an anchoring point for many of the Gen Twos. One of the last true elders in their family, and the one who had been in charge of raising every last one of the later generations. Mira II was the first loss among the Twos in years, the first since Alba.

"Hmm? The Gen Fives. Yes, quite good. All healthy and thriving. It's a joy, especially now that they're on the cusp of leaving infancy." Erika smiled and patted Soraya with her wrinkled hand. "Rina almost started walking last week. She's almost got it, but she isn't quite there yet."

Soraya nodded and smiled. She had been gone the last several years, taking care of the Kaiser's own growth from childhood to young adulthood. All of them who had tasks abroad had missed Generation Five's emergence. "I look forward to seeing them. How's little Soraya?"

Erika grinned widely. "You always want to know how you're doing, even when it isn't you, don't you? She's fine. She's wonderful. Come see her. Come give her hugs and kisses. She may say something to you!"

"She's talking?"

"She's making sounds with her mouth. Whether they're words... that's another story."

Erika I was momentarily distracted when Erika IV delivered her a cup of tea. "Here you go, Nana."

"Thanks, dear." Erika sipped. "Just as I was getting the hang of raising each new batch of you..."

Soraya asked her what she meant.

"This will be the last generation I oversee, the Fives." Erika said plainly. "Each time around, I get slower and more tired. I've already handed off nearly all my tasks already, and once the new kids get sent off, that will be the last of my duties. I've been in charge of this for more than long enough already. I would have preferred it if you Twos had finished your takeover before we started burying you. When does your lot go back to Shirekeep?"

"I'll be going back next week. There are some things to take care of here that I'd like to be here for."

Erika made an undignified grunting noise which only vaguely resembled a laugh. "And the others?"

"I'd rather they all stay here."

Erika wagged her finger. "No no no no no. You need keep us involved in imperial politics. All of you. The third Mira has a job to do now. Nasrin still has a role to play. Sadie, Isidora, Bethany, Robin, they all have a role to play, now that they're old enough to take on to take on the family business. There is no avoiding it. All of you have your tasks to do there, just as we have our tasks to do here."

"Yes, Nana." Soraya said, rolling her eyes.

Erika took a deep drink and finished her tea. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, staring into the distance at apparently nothing in particular, until she finally said, "Young Jamie's boy is cute."

"He's alright."

"I don't like it."

"No?"

"No. It wasn't authorized." Erika concluded her grumbling with another undignified sound.

The Afternoon

Wind washed over the rolling hills, tall green grass undulating like the sea upon the shore. These hills were dotted by clusters of sheep, unaware that they were being watched by someone other than their shepherd and his dog.

Ayreon felt the wind wash over him as he gazed out at the landscape.

No Sentinels. No city. The only walls were behind him, that of Fort Kezan. Even at Montreano, what was intended to be a rural retreat had become a fortress that locked him inside and watched him at every moment. He was too important. The whole system relied on him remaining alive. Not free, not able to exercise his authority as he saw fit, it only allowed him to not die. Even that didn't seem so certain anymore, when a room you had been in countless times could suddenly erupt in fiery destruction. Ayreon's chest began to tighten again, and he had to force his breath through that constraint in order to fill his lungs.

"I don't want to go back." He said to no one in particular.

"I know."

Ayreon turned in fright. Soraya was standing there, the grass blowing around at her knees. Her customary white robes were replaced with black, and this gave her a sickly pallor. She had been crying recently, but her face had been wiped dry in the meantime. He relaxed, knowing that with her around, no harm would come to him, but then the relaxation turned to rage.

"Even here, even after all the strings you pulled to get me out of there, I'm still being watched! There is no escape for me, is there!?"

He could feel Soraya sit down next to her and wrap her arms around him. When he first met her, she towered over him, and she would pick him up and cradle him when he cried. Now her arms had to strain to go all the way around him. He felt every emotion at once, welling up inside, and he couldn't hold it in like Soraya had taught him to do. Her arms pressed in on him, and he felt comfortable to let it spill out, there on a hill alone with the closest thing to an actual mother he ever had.

"There's no escape, is there..." Ayreon said again, now drained and feeling defeated.

"No." Soraya said. "No, there isn't."

Her words, quiet and almost drowned out by the wind, had their own resignation to them. She's lost a member of her family, and that meant something to her, and here I am, whining about myself Ayreon thought, ridiculing himself. She lived a life of duty, knew the dangers, witnessed the death of those dear to her. Imagine, he thought, if Nathan had been killed as unexpectedly. Ayreon reached out and easily wrapped his arms around Soraya, and felt her crumple into his arms.

"I know you hate it," Soraya eventually said, her voice wavering and weak. "But it is for your protection. I would've failed if you died too."

"Failed in your duty to your Kaiser?"

"Failed to be there for someone I care about."

"My mother--"

"--Your mother," Soraya interrupted, "knows what's best for you in your role as Kaiser. For your house, for your country."

"Not for me as a person." Ayreon felt a pulse of revulsion in the pit of his stomach. He waited for enough of that feeling to pass before he continued. "My mother keeps arranging meetings with women of 'good breeding' for me to evaluate. Good birthing material. Good family connections. Someone to keep my eyes from 'wandering elsewhere', she says. Someone to keep the line going."

"She's not wrong."

The pit in his stomach hardened. Soraya and her mother never saw eye to eye, except in this one matter. Ayreon didn't want to hear it. "Have you ever loved someone? As in loved them?"

"Yes."

His rhetorical strategy, one more attempt to avoid the matter, had drawn him into unknown territory. He always assumed the Octaviae didn't care about such things. They didn't need relationships to keep their family going, just a well-maintained birthing chamber. He had been given a tour of them when he was young, the first time he had stepped foot in Kezan. The first time he had met the other Sorayas and the other Isidoras and the other Miras and so on. The same face at different ages, the same face with different details for each lineage. He thought, at the time, that it was more sensible this way, to avoid having to marry and just make a baby in a cleaner, more efficient sort of way.

But... Soraya once loved. Ayreon had never even thought about it.

"What happened?"

"It was not according to plan." Soraya said. Her voice was suddenly distant again. "Love for him contradicted with my duty, and so I did what I had to do for the family."

Neither of them felt up to talking after that, and so they sat together in the grass. Soraya thought silently about her lost love. Ayreon longed for Nathan. The two spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on that hill, watching the sheep drift over the landscape.

The Next Day

Isidora watched the shoreline of Sunderney disappear over the horizon, and the view out the window become entirely dominated by the turbulent sea below and a clear sky above. Their flight would take them back to Montreano, ostensibly returning from Ayreon's spiritual retreat to his rural estate, then back to Raynor's Keep. Both of them would be back to work, he in Shirekeep, her in Montreano. The time they had together was tragic yet fulfilling. Isidora barely got to see Ayreon these days. Duty, she reminded herself.

Ayreon finished pacing and returned to his seat. He had been up and down almost since takeoff, to the point where Isidora had stopped bothering to notice. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he was sitting there, staring right at her.

"Hi."

"I need to ask something of you."

Isidora straightened herself in her seat. He was being official and proper. Ayreon IV, Kaiser of Shireroth, was staring at her, not her beloved friend.

"How can I be of service?"

Ayreon's face became awkward again. It had done that a few times already since the day of the burial, whenever the two of them had gotten into conversation. It undermined the firm, authoritative stance that he was attempting to adopt.

"I need a new personal secretary."

"A new personal secretary." She repeated, blankly. Follow him wherever he goes, schedule his meetings, guide him through courtly performance. "Yes. Certainly. When would you have me start?"

"Immediately." Ayreon was pleased with himself, but still seemed awkward. This wasn't all he has to say, surely.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Y-yes. I'm not sure how to ask it."

"I'd do anything for you, you know that." She reached out to him, but he stood and began pacing again. Isidora looked around the cabin, to see if anyone else could see how frantic he was making himself. Ayreon stood at the hatch, looking out the small porthole, then turned back dramatically to sit in front of Isidora.

"I need..." He held back his loud, sing-songy voice. "...children."

"Oh."

"You're the only one I felt like I could reach out to about this."

Isidora felt blood rush to her face. This wasn't how she expected things to turn out. She had long concluded that what she provided was simply not compatible with his needs. This is how he tells me how he feels? Her fingers gripped at her skirt, searching for something to direct herself towards other than his intense eyes, gazing straight into hers.

"I think I can help you with that."

Ayreon beamed and his voice became uncomfortably loud again. "Excellent, I knew you would understand! Izzy, you're the most understanding friend I could have ever hoped for!"

Friend. Friend?

Ayreon continued, tripping over his words as he praised her. "If we find some way for you to carry children for me, then I won't have to find a wife at all! Duty to family and duty to my own heart! Both can be fulfilled! I know how much of a sacrifice this would be!"

Isidora cut in. "For you, I wouldn't be a sacrifice to me."

"Yes, I know, thank you Izzy, I really appreciate that, but I'm talking about the sacrifice I'd be making! Can you even imagine? I certainly would rather not, but-- but, we'll make this work! There are ways, after all! We'll find one, and then... well, I would never be able to thank you enough!"