21
ROSARIUS
SARASINIA
THE BASTION
Rosarius sat in the dining hall with his friends, arms folded, watching Borrego finish what had to be his tenth bowl of morning slop. The topic of discussion around the table was Dannis and Tavaris. In fact, it seemed that nobody in the Bastion talked about anything else anymore.
“Did anyone else here go to their class this morning?” asked Carranza. “The one about conduct and standards or some shit? I still don’t have a clue what a fucking safe space is supposed to be. Does anyone know?”
“No idea,” said Andreas. “Was that the class where Dannis kept dropping hints about how a man could only experience true physical pleasure with another man? I mean, what the fuck? I don’t even know what these fucking classes are supposed to be about any more.”
“I know what you mean,” said Alanso, snorting with derision. “I think they’re trying to recruit some pillow mates. I caught Tavaris with his hand down the trousers of one of the sub-juniors the other day. The poor lad was terrified.”
“I heard something similar,” growled Borrego. “Only it was the other guy. Or at least I think it was the other guy. Fucking disgusting.”
“Gods above,” said Carranza. “Is that what they want? Maybe that’s why they’re really here? It would explain a lot.”
“Nothing would surprise me,” said Rosarius. “Those two, they’re something else.”
“Yeah,” said Andreas.
“What I want to know,” said Alanso, “is why the administration’s allowing this to happen? I mean, why did they even let them come here in the first place? And where’s our fucking student council in all of this? They’ve not said a word. Why all the silence? These two are ruining everything.”
“This is all because of Colton,” said Carranza. “They say he pushed his dad to get Dannis and Tavaris on the teaching roster.”
“Which one’s Dannis and which one’s Tavaris again?” asked Alanso.
“Dannis is the one with the blonde hair,” said Andreas. “I think. And Tavaris is the one with the brown.”
“I thought it was the other way around,” said Rosarius. “You know, actually I have no idea. And I don’t give a fuck.”
“Why are they always wearing dresses, though?” asked Andreas. “And putting that white shit on their faces? They look like a pair of fucking princesses.”
“Ugliest fucking princesses I ever saw,” said Carranza.
“We haven’t had drill or phalanx training for three fucking weeks now,” said Andreas. “They’ve made it so we’ve only got drill on the last day of every month. How are we supposed to be soldiers if there’s no soldiering? What’s the point of the Bastion anymore?”
“I know,” said Carranza. “Word is they’re moving to get rid of Minten, too.”
“Fuck that,” said Rosarius. “If Minten goes, I go.”
“I’m with you,” said Andreas. “I’ve had enough of these bullshit classes, all this crystal crap and making up slogans and whatnot.”
Alanso spat. “Yeah, agreed. You know what we should do? Kill them.”
“Mm,” said Rosarius. “It would solve the problem.”
“Who are we killing?” asked Borrego, apparently so focussed on his gruel that he’d missed most of the conversation.
“Dannis and Tavaris of course,” said Andreas, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Seriously though–what do you think of the idea?”
Borrego looked at him over the rim of his bowl. “How would we do it?”
“Dunno. They could die in a training accident maybe?”
“How do you figure?” asked Rosarius. “They don’t train. And there’s no training anyway.”
“Poison?”
“Hey, there’s Riva,” said Carranza, pointing.
“Oi, Riva!” shouted Borrego, waving at the man. “Come ‘ere a moment, will you?”
Riva waded through the breakfast crowd to get to their table. “A good day to die, brothers.”
“May we die with honour,” said Carranza, Alanso and Andreas together.
“A good day to die, brother,” said Rosarius.
“May we die with honour,” said Borrego. “Now sit.”
“We were just talking about Dannis and Tavaris,” said Alanso.
Riva pulled up a bench and sat. “Oh yeah?”
“And thinking of ways to get rid of them,” said Andreas.
“You want to get rid of them?” asked Riva. “Fair enough, I guess, but how?”
“Murder,” said Rosarius, keeping his voice down.
Riva chuckled as if he were joking. “Yeah, right.”
“No,” said Borrego, looking at everyone in turn. “Last resort, maybe, but let’s not lead with that. Instead, we’ll play up. You know, we’ll boycott their classes and stuff? Train with Minten’s lot only. Or train ourselves. Or even just sit in the barracks and do nothing if it comes to that.”
“I didn’t think you’d be averse to bloodshed,” said Rosarius. He couldn’t help but feel cheated.
Borrego shrugged. “And I’m not. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go ahead and kill these two just like that. Not yet, anyway.”
“The boycott idea,” said Alanso. “I like it.”
“We need to send a message to the Assembly,” said Borrego. “A message about how the Bastion is a military college, not a fucking finishing school for princesses. Because I don’t know about the rest of you, but I came here to learn how to lead men in battle, and I don’t see how we can do that with Dannis and Tavaris fucking everything up.”
“Too fucking right!” said Andreas.
“We need to tread carefully, though,” said Carranza. “Dannis and Tavaris are here because Colton made his father appoint them, so–”
“Eusebio!” shouted Borrego, making a fist. “I’m sick of hearing the man’s fucking name! Who the fuck does he think he is?”
“Um, only the Grand Magistrate?”
“Yeah, well he’s behaving like he owns the fucking city! What about the rest of the Assembly? What about all the big families? What about our families? Since when does one man get to go around doing whatever he wants? And at our expense?”
“So what are we going to do, exactly?” asked Andreas.
“Right,” said Rosarius. “Like Borrego said, we’ll boycott classes. Does anyone remember when they tried to get rid of the scholarship system a few years back? That’s what the seniors at the time did–they made it so no Bastion student went to classes until the administration reconsidered their decision. We’ll do the same.”
“I wasn’t here then,” said Alanso. “Did it work?”
Borrego gave him a murderous look. “Use your brain. Scholarships are still a thing, aren’t they?”
“Point taken, big man. You win.”
“So, a boycott of classes?” asked Carranza. He shrugged. “All right, consider me in.”
“I’m in too,” said Riva.
“Not all the classes, though,” said Rosarius. “We’re only boycotting Dannis and Tavaris.”
Borrego looked at Rosarius and slapped the table. “Yes! Let’s do this, brothers!”
“I’m in as well,” said Alanso.
“We’re all in,” said Andreas.
“Right,” said Borrego, flexing his shoulders. “If everyone’s had enough to eat, let’s head back to the barracks and start planning. If we’re going to do this properly, we’re going to need to organise a meeting of students.”
“I’ll meet you there later,” said Rosarius. “I have somewhere else I need to be right now.”
Borrego inclined his head. “Really? Where?”
“The infirmary. Lucius went in again three days ago, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“Damn,” said Alanso.
“Yeah. It’s his jaw. It just won’t heal.”
“Fuck,” said Borrego. “I didn’t know. Well, in that case I’m coming with you.”
“Me too,” said Riva.
“Yeah,” said Andreas. “Why don’t we all go?”
“You do remember,” said Alanso, “that Farias’s aunt is a pretty well-known surgeon, right? Why don’t we get her to take a look at Lucius?”
“Farias’s aunt?” asked Borrego. “Nope. No way.”
“She’s really good, apparently.”
“And how do you know that? Have you ever met her?”
“Well, no...”
“So how would you know? Besides, would you go to a woman doctor? Because I fucking wouldn’t.”
Alanso frowned. “Well, maybe? Why not? Farias says she’s one of the best in the city.”
“Farias says a lot of things,” growled Borrego, “and most of them aren’t worth a fucking turd.”
Alanso didn’t reply, and everyone else seemed content with silence as they left the dining hall.
The Bastion’s infirmary had once been a fort. Or at least part of some larger complex, maybe, judging by the short length of wall jutting from its southern side that currently served no apparent purpose. Weather had stripped away some of the infirmary’s render, dumping it at the base of the building. Rosarius ran his fingers over the exposed sections, exploring the old-style mud and gravel construction within. His eyes fell on a shard of pottery. A small piece of an ancient bowl, perhaps, rammed into the wall in ages past. Drawn by its blue glaze and delicate flower motif, he plucked it out and put it away for good luck.
“Place is falling apart,” said Borrego, voicing the obvious.
“All right,” said Rosarius. “Now, before we go in, let’s get something straight–no matter how bad Lucius looks, try to say something... I don’t know... nice? Supportive? Or at least don’t say anything bad. He’s really not in the best shape, and I don’t want anyone making things worse.”
“Sure,” said Andreas. Riva, Carranza and Alanso nodded their agreement.
“Of course,” said Borrego. “I can be supportive.” Alanso rolled his eyes at that, but didn’t say anything.
“Then let’s go,” said Rosarius. He led them down a flight of stairs which opened into a dingy room lined with rows of equally dirty-looking cots. Most were occupied.
“Oi!” yelled Borrego, snapping his fingers at a grey-robed doctor making his rounds.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” asked the doctor.
“Yes,” said Rosarius. “We’re looking for a senior who would have come in here a few days ago. His name is Darnell Lucius. He has a cut on his jaw, a bad one.”
The doctor nodded. “A cut on his jaw? Ah, yes, I know who you mean. Come.” He took them to the far end of the building, through a narrow corridor and into another room. Lucius was there, stripped him to the waist, asleep in a filthy cot in one corner. He’d lost so much weight you could count his ribs, and the cut on his jaw was hanging open. The room smelled like rancid pork.
“What the fuck?” said Borrego. “He looks like total shit!” The comment earned him unfriendly looks from the others.
Rosarius turned to the doctor. “How is he?”
The doctor’s expression was grim. “Not good,” he said. “He’s not well at all, I’m afraid.”
“Why?” asked Borrego. “What’s wrong with him?”
“His jaw has rotted, tainting his blood.”
“What does that mean?” asked Rosarius. “And what are you doing about it?”
“Well,” said the doctor. “We’ve been bleeding him to purge the infection from his body. Unfortunately, he hasn’t responded as well as we’d hoped. We will persevere, of course.”
Rosarius rubbed the back of his neck. “Can’t you try cutting the rotten bits out or something?”
The doctor shook his head. “It’s too late for that, I’m afraid.” He pointed. “Do you see that line going down his neck there? That’s the taint spreading through his veins.”
Borrego folded his arms. “What are you saying? That he’s fucked?”
“It’s in the hands of the gods,” said the doctor, showing his bloodstained palms.
“Meaning he’s fucked?”
“Well I can’t say for sure, but there’s a strong possibility he will not live out the week.”
“A strong possibility?” Rosarius looked down at Lucius in disbelief.
“Bullshit!” said Borrego. “He was fine a few days ago!”
“I assure you he was not,” said the doctor. “His blood has been polluted for some time, perhaps a week or longer. In my experience, cases such as his have a tendency not to end well.”
“So we just leave him here and hope for the best?” asked Borrego.
The doctor showed his palms again. “Well, we are bleeding him, as I said. There is really nothing else to be done.”
“No,” said Rosarius, shaking his head. “There has to be more you can do, surely?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“We could always get Farias’s aunt to take a look at him,” said Alanso.
“No way,” said Borrego.
“Why not?”
“What’s she going to do that the people here aren’t already doing?”
Alanso shook his head. “I dunno, Borrego. All I know is she’s supposed to be really good.”
“I say we give her a try,” said Andreas. “I mean, if they can’t do anything more for Lucius here, then what’s the harm?”
“I have to say I’m with Alanso on this one,” said Riva. “Let’s get a second opinion.”
“I agree,” said Rosarius. “We could at least bring her in to have a look at Lucius, don’t you think? What have we got to lose?”
“Lucius,” said Borrego, pointing at their friend.
“By the sounds of it, we could lose him regardless,” said Alanso. “Anyway, it’s four to one against. You’re outvoted.”
Borrego scowled, and for a moment he looked like he might even start punching. Finally, though, he nodded. “So be it.”
Rosarius turned to the doctor. “We want to bring someone from outside to examine Lucius. Can we do that?”
“What?” asked the doctor. “Who?”
“Another doctor,” said Alanso. “A surgeon.”
“To see my patient?”
“Yep,” said Andreas. “Exactly. Can we do that?”
“Another doctor? In here? Absolutely not!”
“Why not?” asked Riva.
The doctor looked sorely affronted. “Because I say so! And because it’s against the rules. Unless you have special dispensation, I’m afraid I cannot allow it.”
“Huh?” said Borrego. “What sort of dispensation are we talking about?”
“Or could we take Lucius to see her instead?” asked Carranza.
“No,” said the doctor, shaking his head. “No. Definitely not. The patient must remain here.”
“So where does that leave us?” asked Rosarius. “You expect us to sit by and watch our friend die? Because we’re not going to do that.”
“Too fuckin’ right,” said Borrego, squaring his shoulders. “Do you even know who I am, doctor?” The way he said the word ‘doctor’ made it sound like an insult. “Do you even know who we are?”
The doctor took a deep breath.
The boys left the infirmary carrying an unconscious Lucius between the five of them. They had him bundled in a thin blanket.
“Bribing a medical professional,” said Andreas. “That’s a first for me.”
“Medical professional my arse,” said Borrego, spitting. “What a cocksucker. I fucking hate doctors!”
“We know,” said Alanso. “You’ve reminded us of that at least fifty times now. We’re also well-acquainted with your feelings toward the medical profession as a whole. Not to mention the filthy condition of the infirmary, its smell, and how many fucking stairs there are between floors.”
“Fine. You won’t hear another word of complaint from me.”
Alanso rolled his eyes. “If only.”
“Watch it.” Borrego looked daggers at him.
“Look,” said Rosarius “I don’t think us bickering right now is the answer to anything.”
“Where are we going, exactly?” asked Andreas.
Rosarius looked at Alanso. “Where’s Farias’s aunt?”
“Near the stadium,” said Alanso. “That’s where she lives.”
Borrego screwed up his face. “The stadium? Ah fuck, that’s gotta be at least…” but he trailed off when he noticed how many black looks he was attracting. “Fine. The stadium it is, then.”
On the outskirts of the city, with the midday sun beating down on their backs, the students set their bundle down on the ground.
“This is taking too long,” said Alanso, sweat dripping from his hair. “Feels like we’ve been walking half the day. And this skinny boy of ours is surprisingly heavy. We should have borrowed a cart or something.”
“Half the day?” said Borrego. “It hasn’t been anywhere near that long. Besides, I carried him most of the way by myself.”
“So you did,” said Riva. “But you had him slung over your shoulder like a bag of apples. That’s not good for him.”
Borrego started to object, but Rosarius cut him off. “Let’s not start, guys. The quicker we get there, the better.” He pointed to a tree. “Move him over there so he’s in the shade. Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Where are you going?” asked Andreas.
“Back soon,” said Rosarius, and stalked off. It took him longer than anticipated, but he returned with a donkey hitched to wagon and a grubby old farmer.
“That ‘im, is it, sir?” asked the old farmer, pointing at Lucius.
“Yeah,” said Rosarius. “That’s him.”
“An’ you want me to take ‘im to the stadium? Yeh, dunno if I wanna be going that far outta my way.”
Without taking his eyes off the man, Borrego touched the hilt of his sword. “I think you do.”
The man swallowed. “Right y’are, sir.”
Alanso bought some pancakes from a nearby seller. “Now I know it’s not the slop we’ve all come to love,” he said as he passed them around, “but it’s what’s available.”
“It’s still peasant food,” said Borrego, frowning.
Alanso grinned. “I had a feeling you’d approve.”
The farmer licked his lips as he watched them eat, but knew better than to say anything without first being spoken to.
“Let’s go,” said Rosarius, and they loaded Lucius carefully into the wagon bed.
“Go,” said Borrego to the farmer. “To the stadium.”
“Yessir,” said the man.
After discovering that Farias’s aunt didn’t actually live anywhere near the stadium, and after suffering through numerous geographical embarrassments and other minor tribulations trying to find her real address, the boys finally ended up in one of the city’s more affluent districts.
“This must be it,” said Alanso, pointing out a modest shingle-roofed townhouse whose façade was hung with a sign bearing a colourful–and also somewhat gruesome–depiction of the use of surgical implements.
“Go ahead then,” said Borrego, gesturing at it.
Alanso knocked on the door and an older woman answered. “Yes?” she asked.
“My name’s Temir of House Alanso,” said Alanso. He gestured behind him with his thumb. “I’m here with some friends from the Bastion.”
“And?” said the woman, looking over his shoulder. “What do you need from me?”
“Uh, we’re looking for the aunt of one of our friends. His name is Farias.”
“I’m an aunt to such a one.”
“So you’re a doctor then, madam?”
“I am indeed. Is Farias with you?”
Alanso shook his head. “Um, no madam. He’s not, but he told us about you. We need your help. We’ve brought someone who’s very sick. He was in the Bastion’s infirmary, but they say they can’t do anything more for him.”
The doctor sniffed. “Huh. That sounds about right.”
“Can you help him?”
“How will I know without examining him first? Bring him inside.”
Alanso turned and waved. “All right!” he shouted at his friends. “Let’s go!”
Rosarius dismissed the farmer with a curt gesture. The man looked sore about having earned nothing for his morning’s labour, but he bobbed his head and took off without protest.
Borrego carried Lucius to the townhouse door. Just before they crossed the threshold, Lucius opened his eyes. “Can you hear the bells?” he asked.
“The bells?” said Borrego. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
“Then it’s already too late,” said Lucius before slipping back into unconsciousness.
Borrego looked at Rosarius. “The fuck was that about?”
Rosarius shrugged. “Dunno. Fever dream?”
“Mm,” said Borrego as he stepped into the doctor’s home. “This place smells funny.”
“That’d be the herbs,” said Riva, marvelling at the hundreds of little boxes and bottles that Farias’s aunt had stashed around the place. His eyes alighted on a desiccated human hand. “And other things.”
“Come,” said the doctor. She stooped to wipe off a bench with a rag that seemed well overdue for laundering. In fact, the clothes she wore looked no better. “Lay him out here.” Another bench held a fresh-looking corpse that she hastily covered with a sheet. Borrego and Rosarius exchanged looks as Borrego put Lucius down. The doctor waved them away and set about examining her new patient.
“Are these all... glass?” said Andreas, tapping one of the bottles with a finger. “Must be worth fortune.”
“Mhm,” said the doctor without looking up. “Medicine pays when you know what you’re doing.” Andreas and Alanso both glanced at the body under the sheet, and then at each other.
“So can you help him?” asked Rosarius.
The woman opened Lucius’ mouth and took a good, long look. “To be honest,” she said, “I don’t know. He’s very sick. But I’ll do my best. Anyway, since I like to know who’s who when I take on a new case, who’s going to do the introductions?” She pointed at Alanso. “I know who you are, Temir, since I already met you.”
“I’m Borrego,” said Borrego. “Urius of House Borrego.”
“Lozano of House Rosarius,” said Rosarius.
“Fenli of House Andreas,” said Andreas.
“I am Wes Riva of Herena,” said Riva.
“Huh,” said the doctor, looking Riva up and down with mild surprise. “A northerner. And the patient’s name?”
“Lucius,” said Alanso. “Darnell of House Lucius.”
“Very good,” said the doctor. “You can call me Phena. So, I’m going to write you a short list of things your friend is going to need if he’s to have a fighting chance. Bring them to me as soon as possible.”
“What things?” asked Rosarius.
Phena shrugged. “A few simple ingredients.”
Borrego folded his arms. “How much will they cost us?” He waved a hand at the angry stares that followed.
“The things I need are not particularly expensive.”
“Hmh,” said Borrego, relaxing.
“My knowledge concerning what to do with them, however, will cost you considerably more.”
“Ah,” said Borrego, his face hardening.
“We’ll do whatever we have to, doctor,” said Rosarius, though he looked at Borrego as he spoke. “Just give us our friend back. Nothing else matters.”
Borrego scowled but nodded. “Yeah. What he said.”
____________
An excerpt from The Aftermath of the Battle of the Rock or: The Conclusion of the War of the Brothers by the bard Lonhedin
The magnificent Rock Palace at Lida was built in the year 25 in the Black Age by the third ruler of Ahrenia’s illustrious Ergaean dynasty, King Perbinice (may his shade dwell in peace in the Otherworld). When he built the wondrous Rock Palace, the righteous and goodly king also shifted the capital from Herena to that place. Prior to that, the capital of Ahrenia had always been Herena. No man in the kingdom doubted the wisdom behind moving the centre of power, naturally.
Now, the virtuous and just king had two loving and devoted sons named Mairn and Goen (may they be remembered with kindness), who lived at the glorious Rock Palace with their celebrated father until he died of natural causes