Lunar Marked

Camilla stood outside waiting, clutching the dark fabric of the dress wrapped around her. She hated wearing clothes, the way it felt so restrictive and confining to her now. She’d have much preferred to be covered in her Cloak of Shadows, even if the sun and breeze would undoubtedly bite at its edges. 

But it would be improper, and Camilla couldn’t afford to be improper today. Rows of sentinels stood silently on each side of her, shields on their backs and spears held tightly in hand while their swords hung sheathed at their waists. They made not a sound, not even the scuff of shoes or rub of fabric. It was oppressively quiet, considering how normally rambunctious they could be, the only noise being the breeze of the trees, the sounds of coming from the lesei mine to their backs, and Camilla’s occasional fidgeting with her dress. 

She wished she could be with Pearl, finding some chore or another that the girl could do just to watch her cute figure move around the guest room. Even the most boring of paperwork would have been preferable to this. 

The sound of the train steadily rose, breaking the tension that had slowly built as they'd waited, only to bring forward an even more foreboding feeling. Far in the distance, it crested a hill, pillars of black pouring from its engine. Camilla eyed the train with a scowl before forcing a neutral smile onto her face. Do or die time, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she adjusted her dress one last time and waited. 

The train slowed as it approached, coming to a crawl as it crested the start of the platform. Its front was stained with large black and dark-red spots, dried blood from whatever beast had decided to test its might. Even from several meters away, heat rolled off it, warming the air around them. 

Several loud thumps came from inside the passenger car as the doors were unlocked and a beat later, it slid open, revealing yet more sentinels. They held large shields much like the ones around her but otherwise were quite different. Heavy black armor that likely once shined brightly covered them from head to toe, made from the strongest materials the Empire could forge. In their hands were spitfires, weapons that fired out long steel spikes similar to daggers through the use of black powder. Despite their unassuming names and appearance, they were weapons made to pierce the hides of even the toughest beasts out in the wastes, or if necessary, stab through any Marked that went ‘rogue.’

Camilla eyed the men as they filed out of the train, each of them lining up and forming a path from the door. As the last of them moved into place, four on each side, everyone once more waited in silence. The sorceress’s hardened gaze stayed on the doorway. A cleanly polished shoe appeared, followed by another. Her eyes trailed up to the face of a man she’d only met twice before. Praevus Meilir Emver.

He stepped out of the train, light-brown eyes roaming the small station’s platform, and a casual smile across his face. As one, the sentinels gave a swift salute, their fists moving to their chests. As Camilla watched, two thoughts kept coming back to her, the same two questions she’d been asking since she’d found out he was coming. Why was he here? And what did he know?

From the right side of the train, the Captain and town Reeve stepped forward to greet him. 

“Ahh, Captain Whitt!” The Praevus's voice had the same gentle handsome tone that Camilla remembered. Combined with his early-thirties youthful and well-trimmed short-haired appearance, she expected many women were prone to swooning around him. He moved over to the Captain, a happy and somewhat surprised expression across the Praevus’s face as though he hadn’t expected to see him. Their hands shook, and the Praevus gave the man a friendly smack on the back. “Good to see you as always, Captain. You must be trying to embarrass me, having such a grand showing just to see me off the train,” he said jovially as his eyes once more looked out across the sentinels. He passed over Camilla as though she weren’t even there, though she had no illusions as to whether he‘d noticed her. "You'll have the locals thinking I'm uptight." He gave the man a wink.

Captain Whitt was as straight-faced as always. “Forgive me, Praevus. It merely seemed appropriate.”

“Nothing to forgive, nothing to forgive.” He gave the man yet another glowing smile. “Your patriotism is something we should all strive toward.” He turned then to the Reeve, bringing the other man into a handshake. “Reeve Dyere, I must say, I’ve heard quite a bit about you, though it’s nice to finally meet in person. How is your family?”

The Reeve seemed exceptionally nervous, and rather thrown off from Praevus Emver’s casual demeanor. It was quite abnormal compared to the rather stern and serious bearing of most Empire officials. His nervousness was especially understandable to Camilla. The list of people that the praevi, the generals of the Empire with only the Emperor himself above them, couldn’t touch was short, and the Reeve was certainly not on it. The Praevus only needed to give the word and anyone here would be dead in seconds, no one blinking an eye at the order. She’d seen it before. Only the Emperor himself magically stepping off the train and raising a hand in objection could reasonably stop him. Still, Camilla couldn’t help but feel some amount of satisfaction from Reeve Virgil Dyere's discomfort, a man who normally seemed so proud and full of himself.

“We’re doing wonderfully. It’s an honor, sir, err, Praevus.” The Reeve paled, clearly unused to talking with people of import. “Forgive my impertinence, Praevus. It won’t happen again.” He gave a deep bow.

The Praevus’s youthful smile rose at the faux pas. “Think nothing of it. And the honor is all mine, I assure you. Please, call me Emver, if it’s not too much to ask. I’d like to be on friendly terms. I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the next few days.”

“O-of course, Praevus Emver.”

“I suppose it’ll have to do,” he said with the casual swish of his hand, the smile never leaving his face. Once more, his eyes roamed the sentinels, finally stopping momentarily on Camilla before returning the Whitt. “Captain, I’m sure that you and your sentinels have much work to do yet today. Please, don’t let me hold you up any longer.” He gave the man one last pat on the shoulder before turning away, his steps bringing him in Camilla’s direction. 

“As you say, Praevus,” he concurred before shouting out orders, the sentinels quickly moving out.

Camilla stayed where she was, despite having technically been ordered here along with them. She took several breaths as the man approached, attempting to center herself and stay calm. The Praevus’s personal soldiers, all covered in shining black, followed not far behind him. 

Camilla gave him a full curtsy, holding it just a bit longer than perhaps was truly necessary. Her dress tightened and clung in ways that she wasn't used to, like a reminder of her ensnarement. Was she a caged wolf, she wondered, or a tied-up pig waiting to be roasted? 

“Praevus,” she greeted.

He gently grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. Camilla stared into his smiling light-brown eyes, the same pair of eyes that haunted her nightmares. 

“Lady Anselm. Your beauty doubles every time I see you. It’s been too long," he said, using her noble family's last name. 

“Truly,” she agreed. Camilla forced herself to smile back, even though all she wanted to do was turn and run, for what little good it would do her. She wouldn’t make it far. “Please, call me Camilla. I’m not an Anselm anymore.”

“Ah, of course, of course, your Mark. I’d nearly forgotten. Much like last time, your beauty has simply entranced me.” 

He’d made the same ‘mistake’ the last time as well, not long after she'd first received her Mark. As if it weren’t completely obvious now with her scales and horns, she thought. Camilla did her best not to think about what else had happened when they’d last met. It was difficult with the man staring her right in the face. Her stomach felt queasy, and she did her best to keep her eyes from glistening. 

“It is no worry, Praevus. I hope your ride was pleasant?”

“Quite, though I’ll admit it’s quite the shame I couldn’t see much of the Empire along the way,” he commented, referring to the windowless train car. He sighed.

“I’ll admit, I found the journey to be a tad dull,” Camilla responded, attempting to get her normally witty bearings back. 

Praevus Emver smiled. “Perhaps I’ll have to arrange something for when we go back.”

Camilla internally deflated. It meant he was planning to stay until things here were resolved, not exactly grand news. Outwardly, she managed a smile. “That would be wonderful.” 

He gave her a charming grin. “Ah, where are my manners? Let's get inside.” He gestured forward, and together they began moving back toward the small mansion. “Do you mind if we discuss things for a moment in your quarters? Assuming you aren’t too busy?” he asked, as though she had a choice. “I know you’ve always been quite the hard worker. When I first met you at the academy you were so studious you almost didn’t even notice me.” He smiled as he seemed to reminisce. 

Camilla remembered well when they had met the first time, back when she was only sixteen, two years before being officially Marked. She recalled how his eyes would linger uncomfortably. How he smiled at her as though he was a mere hair away from taking her and doing what he pleased. She hadn’t known to fear him then, not like in their second meeting a couple of years later. Oh, how close she’d likely been to death without realizing. She’d been fierce and obstinant then. If only her younger self had known she was speaking to the reaper. Perhaps things may have turned out differently two years after. 

“Of course, Praevus.” He was a man of politeness. She didn’t bother mentioning how silly it was for him to ask her permission; that as the Praevus in command over the Marked, he could ask anything he wanted of her, and she'd be expected to give it. 

As they reached the mansion, a pale-faced maid opened the door to let them in. Emver gestured for her to go first, and with a nod Camilla moved into the entryway, followed by him and the eight dark metal-clad sentinels. 

“Quite the quaint little place they have here, don’t you think, Camilla?” he asked as they entered the small guest meeting chamber across from her room. 

She gave a hesitant nod, watching as four of the soldiers filed into the room behind him, the last one closing the door. The sight made her heart drop, like an ominous noose hanging above her head. “Yes, they’ve been quite generous in offering us so much of their home.”