ROSEVANIA

SERGEEVA

THE BASTION

Your first time in the Hole was the worst, or so everyone said. It certainly wasn’t Rosevania’s idea of a good time. The floor was covered in shit, which made him retch, and it was too dark to see anything. The shackles on his wrists fixed his arms to the ceiling, which was also so low he couldn’t stand up straight. He sweated as he struggled to free himself, but succeeded only in tiring himself out. The key to getting through this, he thought, was to relax.

Relaxing didn’t work. He felt around in the gloom with his feet, but there was nothing to sit on or lean against. Gods, but it was impossible to get comfortable. If he let his wrists take his weight, the shackles dug into his skin and the pain forced him back up. But stooping made his back ache. If he tried crouching to relieve the pressure, the burning in his thighs eventually forced him back to his original position. Cycling between crouching and standing didn’t work, either–there was simply no respite from the pain! He screamed in frustration. The Hole was fucking awful, much worse than he’d imagined. Whoever designed it had obviously put some thought into it, the cunning bastard. He chuckled, then laughed, and finally began howling. “I hope at least they got you too, Romelo,” he yelled. “Prick. Fucker! Motherfucking fucker!” The sound bounced off the walls, hurting his ears.

He could almost touch the ground with his knees. He tried a few times, and on the last he lost his footing. The shackles bit so hard he nearly blacked out. The floor betrayed him, too, and the harder he worked to gain traction in the shit, the less he got. He dangled from the ceiling, grunting and swearing. By the time he found his feet again he was out of breath.

No sooner than the stinging in his wrists abated, his back began to spasm. He shut his eyes and screwed up his face. He crouched to soothe his aching muscles, but couldn’t keep his legs from going white-hot from the effort. He thought about letting the shackles take his weight for a bit but wasn’t sure his wrists could handle it. Oh, this fucking place was taxing him to the limit, and he’d only just arrived!

He lost his footing again. The shackles took another bite, and he screamed as waves of searing pain rippled up his arms. Getting back on his feet took every scrap of his remaining strength, but he managed it. He perched there for a while, a quivering, clammy mess. His back felt as if someone had scattered hot coals over it, and his thighs were on the verge of quitting on him for good. And was that blood oozing down the insides of his forearms? Shit. A man passed out when he reached a certain threshold of pain, didn’t he? When could he look forward to that?

In the hours that surely followed, Rosevania knew true torment. He tried every trick he could think of to push through it, but nothing worked. Pleasant thoughts, for instance. Useless. For the briefest moment your imagination whisked you to a sunny beach or breezy mountaintop, but only for as long as it took for the pain to hammer its way in and drag you right back to reality. And counting your breaths? Nope. The pain drove the tallies from your head. Pretending to be a rack of jerked venison hanging out to dry didn’t work, either. All that did was remind you of food, and then of other things you also didn’t have.

More time passed. He was dimly aware of slipping through a hideous realm of agony and into an almost agreeable state of numbness. His body still ached, but it was as if he were somehow feeling it second-hand. He couldn’t decide if he were asleep or awake. And then something at the edge of this new consciousness prickled him. He focussed on it, and slowly became aware that he was pissing his trousers. It didn’t bother him, though a small part of him argued that it probably should have.

Rosevania shut his eyes against a sudden, blinding light.

“Don’t like the lamp eh, sir?” said a man. “It’ll pass.”

“Affn mmmmbf,” said Rosevania. “Fmmmmb nnnbmff.”

Another man spoke. “What did he say?”

“Dunno,” said the first man. “Let’s just take him up.”

“Nffff,” said Rosevania as the pair fumbled at his restraints. He took a big breath as he hit the floor, and a big mouthful of shit with it. He gagged as he was hauled upright, then bright pain blossomed in every part of his body. He screamed for all he was worth.

“Sounds like a hungry cat,” said one of the men.

“Yeah,” said the other as they dragged him out of the cell. “Left or right?”

“Left,” said the first man. “We’re ‘sposed to clean him up some ‘fore he fronts the tribunal tomorrow.”

Rosevania wasn’t familiar with this particular room in the Old Keep. A tiled stone floor, most likely slate. No bars on the windows. No bookcases or carpets, either, which was unusual. No furniture aside from a table with three plush chairs behind it. His warders hung around, chatting with two pairs of guardsmen. None of them paid him any mind.

He turned his attention to the ugly wounds on his wrists. He pulled the skin from a blister, wincing as drops of reddish liquid slid down his arm. Those shackles had left a mark–he’d have some nice, heavy scars there in a week or two. Not that he cared. He was covered in scars, so what difference would a few more make?

Time passed. Still raw and worn out from his confinement, he lay down on the floor and went to sleep. The first rule of soldiering was that you never stood when you could sit, and if you could sleep, you slept. Darkness claimed him for a time, after which a warder prodded him awake. “Eh?” he asked, bleary eyed.

“Apologies, sir,” said the warder. “But it’s time.”

Rosevania sat up and rubbed his eyes. Drones and Torino looked down on him from behind the table, all silk gowns, painted nails, too-dark eyeliner and plucked eyebrows. “Oh, fuck off!” he said, scowling.

Drones and Torino responded with hard looks.

“All stand for His Royal Highness, Prince Corvus!” boomed a guard.

“His fucking what?” asked Rosevania, hugging his knees. He wasn’t about to get up for anyone, least of all a prick like Corvus. “Did you say Royal Highness?”

Drones and Torino stood up together as Corvus sashayed into the room wearing what appeared to be an evening dress encrusted with a staggering quantity of gems. He wedged himself between Drones and Torino, and the three began a hugging ritual punctuated by air kisses and over-effusive greetings.

“All present,” cried the guard, “be seated!”

As the trio sat and arranged their gowns carefully around their legs, Drones spoke. “Before we proceed, my lord prince,” he said, “it would be remiss of me not to comment on the truly magnificent garment that you are wearing today! Such workmanship! Oh, Bo, just look at how the stones come together with the neckline to accentuate our lord prince’s striking facial features. What fabulous tones!”

“Oh my, yes, how right you are!” said Torino, clapping his hands. “Yes, my lord prince, it is indeed a truly marvellous piece. And the interplay of gold thread, even in this subdued lighting? It’s simply magical! Magical! Pray tell us, from whom did you have it commissioned? Was it Quintin? Oh, it was, wasn’t it? Yes, I bet it was Quintin!”

“It was indeed,” said Corvus. “I cannot fault your eye!”

“Wondrous!” squealed Drones as he pressed one of Corvus’s outsized maunches to his cheek.

Rosevania looked around for a spare chair. It took longer than it should have for his brain to register that there wasn’t one. He concluded that it was a deliberate slight against him.

“Hmm. Let’s begin, shall we?” said Torino, flapping a hand at the warders. “Uh, you two prison... fellows. You are dismissed, actually.” The men bowed and exited the room.

Corvus spoke. “Good morning,” he said, apparently addressing the tabletop. “A good morning to one and all.”

Rosevania didn’t say anything. Although it hurt, he stretched out on the floor on his back with his fingers steepled over his belly. If they wanted to play dumb games, he’d happily oblige them.

Corvus frowned, finally looking at him. “You are,” he said airily, “almost certainly wondering why I and my colleagues are present at this tribunal instead of the usual tired old faces.”

“Nah,” said Rosevania. “Actually, I couldn’t give a shit.”

Drones went red with fury. “By the gods!” he shouted. “We will not put up with such discourtesy!”

“I have never before encountered such rudeness!” screamed Torino. “Such poor manners! Why, I’ve a mind to order you back to the dungeons at once!”

Rosevania couldn’t help but grin at how easily he’d provoked them. Why stop, though? “It’s a good day to die.”

Drones and Torino looked at Corvus, who shook his head. “Er, yes. Well then, it seems I must remind you that we are here because Grand Magistrate Eusebio–my father no less–has willed that we be here. Furthermore, he entrusted me to head this commission of enquiry, specifically.”

Drones smirked. “Indeed.”

“I just said it was a good day to die,” said Rosevania. “I mean, you said you wanted manners, didn’t you? Well, I just gave you the proper Bastion greeting. Why haven’t you replied as you should? Or have you forgotten where you are?”

“We know where we are.” Torino eyed him coldly.

“Yeah, well I don’t think you do,” said Rosevania. He pointed at Corvus. “By the way, was it just me, or did they just announce you as Prince Corvus?” As Drones’s smile faded, he added, “Because I’m dying to know what that’s all about.”

Corvus cleared his throat. “I heard no such thing,” he said, giving sidelong glances at Drones and Torino, who started squirming. “Perhaps you misheard?”

“I don’t think I did,” said Rosevania, sitting up. It pained him, but he refused to let it show. “So, Princey, has your daddy ended our great republic, or something? Huh? Are we an empire again, eh?”

Corvus ignored him. “Let’s proceed, shall we?”

“Sure. Why the fuck not?”

“Right then, to business!” Corvus raised a finger. “Now, please understand that it is my fervent wish that this commission of enquiry should reflect,” and here he brought his hands to rest on the shoulders of his companions, “our collective youthful energy and idealism. The old men that presided over these sorts of things until recently we have displaced–for the time being, at least. I thought them too dusty, rather uninteresting, and on the whole... well, unhelpfully reactive. And my father agreed. And so I think you will find this institution–by which I mean the Bastion, of course–better served by minds like ours. Minds, of course, that are inclined to proactive engagement.”

“I’ve no idea what the shit you’re on about,” said Rosevania.

Corvus continued to ignore him. “Assisting me with my task today,” he said, peering down his nose, “are His Lordship Parms Drones, Esquire, and His Lordship Bo Torino, Esquire. Two very esteemed personages with whom I believe you are already well acquainted. True? Together, we shall continue our quest to uncover the facts of a certain recent–and most unfortunate–event, one in which you played a significant part. Of course, I am sure that you need absolutely no reminder of the subject of the aforementioned enquiry. Yes or no?”

“Huh?” Rosevania had stopped listening a while ago, having discovered that if he sat slightly hunched and perfectly still, he could hardly feel any pain in his back and shoulders. The little finger in his left hand was still numb, though, and had been since yesterday. A worry, but hopefully it would soon resolve itself.

“I said,” said Corvus, “that I am sure you need absolutely no reminder of the subject of the aforementioned enquiry?”

Rosevania shrugged.

“My lord prince!” screeched Torino, rising from his chair and causing both Corvus and Drones to jump in fright. “My lord prince is speaking of the events of last week!” He settled back into his seat, looking daggers at Rosevania.

In return, Rosevania eyed the man’s skinny neck. He licked his lips as he imagined blood spurting while the head rolled away. A pity that his sword was elsewhere…

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Torino.

“Just get the fuck on with whatever this is, then,” said Rosevania, hands balled into fists as he got to his feet. All he needed was an excuse to let them fly…

Corvus managed to hold his composure, but Drones and Torino recoiled in horror. A silence descended on the room.

“I said, get on with it!” shouted Rosevania. He was tired, his nerves were raw, and at this very moment he wanted nothing more out of life than to beat the living fuck out of whatever poor sap tipped him over the edge.

“By the gods!” screeched Torino. “We will not–!”

Corvus interrupted the man with a gesture. “Very well,” he said, fingering a sheaf of parchments on the table in front of him. He paused on one in particular. “Your name is Lozano Rosevania, yes?”

“It is,” said Rosevania, folding his arms and drawing himself up to his full height. “Lozano Iacanus Manismus of House Rosevania. What of it?”

Corvus smiled thinly. “Actually, your name is not unknown to me, Lozano. For that reason, it came as a very great surprise when we heard that a week ago in this very city, you were involved in the… hmm… altercation… that you were.”

Rosevania didn’t reply, but instead started toward the pitcher and cup he’d just noticed on the table. How had he managed to miss that until now? Did it contain water or wine? Gods, he was so thirsty he didn’t even care!

“Oh yes, yes,” said Corvus, beckoning him onward. “That was meant for you, actually. Forgive my neglect. You have my permission to help yourself.”

“Do I?” asked Rosevania, limping over to the table with a scowl. “Do I really?” Like fuck he did! He grabbed the pitcher and tried to pour its contents out, but his shaky hands got more of it on his shoes than in the cup. Water. In the end he abandoned any notions of decorum and put the spout to his lips.

“I can’t help but observe that you are trembling,” said Corvus. “Does this commission of enquiry make you nervous, perchance?”

Rosevania held up a mangled-looking wrist. “Nope,” he said into his water. Some of it dribbled down his chin. “Been shaking like a motherfucker since I got out of the Hole. It comes and goes.”

“Good grief.” Drones looked him up and down, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

“How uncouth!” said Torino. He was dabbing at his mouth with a lace handkerchief, looking ready to puke.

Rosevania edged closer to the table. He knew it wasn’t just his potty mouth that was the source of their discomfort. The day before, the warders had given him a bucket of water and some fresh clothes, but despite his best efforts he was still encrusted with filth.

“Oh dear,” said Drones, waving a hand in front of his face. Torino paled and leaned back in his chair, pulling his handkerchief over his eyes.

Corvus made a face and waved Rosevania away. “Yes, all right. Go now, please. You smell putrid. Go. You may take your vessel back to your place with you.”

Rosevania grinned. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Did you know that the Bastion’s sewers run through the Hole? I hadn’t really appreciated that fact until yesterday. The place is a toilet, basically.”

“I see,” said Corvus. His eyes were beginning to water. “Right. Now if you’d be so kind as to stand back so we can get on with our business…”

“No,” said Rosevania, moving closer to table until he practically butted up against it. “Not until you bring me a chair.”

Drones leapt to his feet. “Enough of this insolence! You will back up, Lozano, and you will back up now! Furthermore, you will frame your every utterance to our lord prince from now on using the correct appellation!”

Rosevania tossed the pitcher. It landed on the floor with a crack. “So, who are you again?”

Torino stood and gave Rosevania the hardest glare he could muster. “Your failure to address our lord prince by his title is galling to me as well, peasant! Were I you, I would do as I were told.”

“Peasant?” asked Rosevania, reaching for the blade on his hip that wasn’t there. “I’ll make you eat that insult. This is the Bastion, remember? Just who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

“Oh, dearie me,” said Corvus. “Dearie, dearie me!” He took his companions’ hands and smiled. “It’s quite all right, dear fellows! And let us not force this young gentleman to use the appellation, please. Why, if we were to insist on such strict protocol, we might find ourselves engaged in enquiry well past luncheon!”

“Very well, my lord prince,” said Drones, stroking Corvus’s hand as if it were a puppy.

“Your wish is our command,” said Torino.

“Please do sit, dear fellows,” said Corvus. They sat, but neither seemed willing to let go of his hands. He looked at Rosevania. “Lozano dear, please find it in your heart to forgive my colleagues. I freely admit that they are a touch overzealous in their devotion to me, but no insult to you was intended. Of this I’m sure.” He smiled at Drones and Torino in turn, his eyes growing moist. “I do seem to inspire such love.”

Drones brought Corvus’s fingers to his lips. “There are no words, my sweet lord prince. No words.” A tear slid down his face.

“I concur,” whispered Torino, dabbing at his friend’s cheek with his handkerchief. “No words.”

“Fuck me,” said Rosevania under his breath. How mad were these three? They were only here as a one-time thing, and thank fuck for that! Gods help the Bastion if they were here all the time.

Corvus cleared his throat and looked at him. “Now, as I was saying, about a week ago you were involved in an altercation that resulted in the injury of several of your colleagues. What can you tell us about that? We wish a thorough account, so omit no detail, no matter how trivial it may seem.”

“Yes,” said Torino. “Tell us of the events of the night in question, Lozano.”

Rosevania stared them down. “First, a chair.”

Corvus frowned. “Very well.” To Drones he said, “See to it that the gentleman is brought something suitable to sit on, please.”

Drones blinked. “You there!” he shouted at one of the guards. “I say, you there! You! Guardsman! Do fetch this man here something to sit on, will you? A chair!” He clapped his hands twice. “A chair, at once!”

The guard left the room, returning with a carved hall chair. Much to the chagrin of Drones and Torino, Rosevania took it and sat with his legs spread.

“Now if you don’t mind, Lozano,” said Corvus, “tell us what happened on the night in question. “And again, I implore you, please omit no detail. Tell us, no matter how trivial it may seem. We need to know everything.”

“What happened on the night in question?” asked Rosevania, clearing his throat. “Well, it all started months ago. You see, Romelo... er, that’s Ales Romelo of course, not his father the general–”

“We’ve no time for all that!” shouted Torino. “Get to the part about the fight!”

Rosevania looked at the man’s delicate features, imagined himself pummelling them with his fists. How many punches would it take to kill him? Not many, for those soft little cheekbones would probably cave in under the first blows. He smiled at the thought. “Yeah, well without the backstory, the fight doesn’t really make much sense.”

“I see,” said Corvus, perhaps misinterpreting his grin as a gesture of cooperation. “Go on, then.”

“As I said, it all started some months ago. Romelo had mentioned in passing, er, to a group of us that is, that a certain student had insulted him...”

“And that student was…” Corvus trailed off as he consulted his notes. “Ah, yes. It was Elrond of Herena, was it not?”

“Yes,” said Rosevania, nodding. “Elrond. And that’s Elrond junior, of course, not senior. Wes Elrond.”

Corvus looked down at his notes again. “Wes, yes. Of course. Your clarification is acknowledged, Lozano, but wholly unnecessary. We know of whom you speak.”

Rosevania shrugged. “Right. Well anyway, we asked Romelo what he was on about, but he couldn’t really tell us. Couldn’t say how Elrond had insulted him, exactly. He was drunk as shit and rambling on about Elrond stealing things that didn’t belong to him. Of course, it was all bullsh–”

“Wait, what?” cried Drones. “Explain the theft!”

“There was no theft. It was just Romelo talking out of his arse. As usual.”

Torino thumped the table with a fist. “I believe my colleague asked you to explain why this Wes person was stealing things. Ales said he was a thief, did he not?”

“He did, but–”

“So, elaborate.”

“There’s not really anything to tell,” said Rosevania. “Elrond’s not a thief. Never was.”

“But you just said that Ales said he was!” shouted Torino.

“In what way,” said Drones, “does taking something that doesn’t belong to one not make one a thief?”

Rosevania shook his head. “Just because Romelo said Elrond was stealing things doesn’t make it true. All you need to know about Romelo is that he’s melodramatic as fuck. Actually, that doesn’t even begin to describe him. He’s the biggest fucking diva you’ve ever met. He goes hysterical at the drop of a hat. And if you say or do anything he doesn’t agree with, he flies into a rage. That’s what happened with Elrond. He did something Romelo didn’t like, and Romelo took exception to it. Took it personally, even though it had nothing to do with him. From then on, he was obsessed with what he called ‘getting even’ with Elrond. It was… bizarre.”

“I see,” said Corvus. “So, you mean to argue that Wes is not a thief, then?”

“Right. And I believe I’ve said it a few times now. You should just let me explain the situation to you and seek clarification later. Look, this whole thing came about because Elrond was seeing this girl from the city, all right? A citizen, I mean. She wasn’t from a noble house or anything, but her father had money. Now, for some reason, Romelo didn’t approve of them being together. He kept calling Elrond that Weedy barbarian, you know, and that sort of thing. Saying stuff about how his kind had no business consorting with southern women.”

“Ah,” said Corvus, nodding. “I see.”

Rosevania scoffed. “So that’s where all this talk of Elrond being a thief came from. This girl spread her legs for him, and Romelo twists it so he’s stealing her. All because she’s southern and he’s northern. How fucking stupid is that?”

“So, Wes did not take anything that actually belonged to mister Ales, then? No personal property of any kind?”

“Right.” Rosevania spread his hands. “And what’s also nuts is Romelo trying to set himself up as some sort of guardian of female virtue. He doesn’t even like girls.”

“Hmm,” said Torino, wrinkling his nose. “Unlikely.”

“Excuse me?” asked Rosevania.

“I said it’s unlikely,” said Torino, sniffing. “By which I mean that your story makes no sense at all. You say they were fighting over a woman? I say it’s unlikely. I mean, women are things of little value, are they not? Things that may be had anywhere, by anyone. Therefore, they hardly need be fought over, do they?”

“Absolutely,” said Drones. “I concur. It sounds completely idiotic to my ears as well. To squabble over a woman? It would be like squabbling over a rock in a quarry.”

“That’s a shit analogy,” said Rosevania. “And you’re missing the point. It was never about the girl, or even about girls in general. It was about Romelo’s blind hatred for Elrond. Elrond, who didn’t even do anything wrong! It’s insane. He’s insane.”

“You are aware,” said Torino, “that the man you are speaking of so rudely is of noble birth, are you not?”

Rosevania stared. “Your point being?”

Torino looked down his nose at him. “What I mean to say is, do you really think it prudent to insult your betters?”

“Romelo’s hardly my better,” said Rosevania, laughing. “He’s my cousin.”

Drones and Torino exchanged glances. Worried glances.

“It’s true,” said Corvus. “They are indeed cousins.”

Rosevania laughed again, even though it sent a fresh ripple of pain through his body. They had no idea who he was! Good. Now that he had them off balance, it was time to press the advantage. If he could goad them into insulting him again, he would challenge them. Or perhaps he could make them angry enough to challenge him? Either way was fine so long as it satisfied his bloodlust. “You two have no fucking idea who you’re talking to,” he said. “Do you?”

“Hmm,” said Corvus, squeezing their hands. His expression said he knew they were walking a dangerous path. “We graciously concede the point. Upon reflection, it strikes me that for a man to argue with another about a woman is not entirely without precedent. I mean, there are many old tales of friends falling out over a lady.” He paused. “So I gather from all this that Ales and Wes were love Elrondls, yes?”

Rosevania concealed his disappointment at Corvus having thwarted him so easily. But then again, his plan hadn’t exactly been a sophisticated one. “Love Elrondls? Haven’t you been listening? No part of this is about girls. Anyway, Romelo likes boys exclusively. And little ones, too. It’s fucking disgust–”

“Hmm,” said Corvus loudly, cutting him off. “Hmm. Well one thing’s for certain, and it’s that Ales has certainly complained about Wes a lot these past few months. In fact, I have in my possession a number of missives he wrote to the Bastion’s administrators about him.”

“So? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, to quote him, ‘I believe that Weedy barbarians have no business–’”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Rosevania, holding up a hand. “I’ll just finish that sentence for you, eh? I’ll bet it goes something like ‘Weedy barbarians have no business training at the Bastion?’ Or is it ‘Weedy barbarians have no business being in Sergeeva?’ Is that it? If I’ve heard that bullshit once, I’ve heard it a hundred times.”

“I find myself quite in agreement with those sentiments, though,” said Drones.

“Yes indeed,” said Torino. “As do I. Sergeeva, after all, is for Sergeis.”

Drones snorted. “I mean, it’s implied in the name!”

Corvus rubbed his chin. “Am I correct in assuming that you, Lozano, do not agree with this?”

“You are correct,” said Rosevania. “I couldn’t agree less if I tried.”

Corvus stared at him. “Then why did you take part in the altercation on the night in question? And on your cousin’s side, no less?”

“An excellent question, my lord prince!” exclaimed Torino.

“Oh, you have him there, my lord prince!” shouted Drones, thumping the table with both hands. “See how his face flushes with guilt! See how he squirms under your scrutiny!”

Rosevania considered the question. “Well–”

Torino let out a shriek of triumph and leapt to his feet. “Aha! You have him! He’s finished! Guilty!”

Corvus motioned for silence. “Let Lozano speak, please.”

“Hmf,” said Torino, sitting down.

“Romelo is family,” said Rosevania. “Elrond isn’t. When he told me that Elrond had slighted him, I took it at face value. I didn’t ask questions. I only felt obligated to come to his defence, so that’s what I did. My time in the Hole made me see things in a whole new light, though, I have to say. For one, it made me realise how truly full of shit Romelo is. Friends of mine got hurt because of him, and because of me. I should never have acted on that cunt’s behalf, family or not.”

“Gods above, but this man’s mouth needs to be washed out,” said Drones. “Must we really be subjected to such foul language?”

“Indeed.” Torino waggled his head. “I, too, object to the foulness of this man’s words.”

“I do concur,” said Corvus. “But regardless, let’s move on.” He referred to his parchment again. “On the night of the altercation, Lozano, several students were indeed badly injured, just as you’ve said. I would like to know how that happened, exactly.”

Rosevania took a deep breath. “Right. Well, some weeks ago Romelo started having Elrond followed. Apparently, he wanted to be kept informed of Elrond’s comings and goings. And I mean as in all the time, night and day. I think that gives you some idea of just how obsessed he’d become.” He shook his head. “The signs were there, even then. But I ignored them…”

“Yes, yes, we acknowledge your thoughts on the matter,” said Corvus. “Moving on. Now, I understand that on the night in question, Ales posted you and one or two others around the city as spies?”

“As spies?” asked Rosevania, frowning. “No. No, where did you get that idea? We weren’t there as spies. We were there to corral Elrond, to try to funnel him toward this alley where Romelo was waiting. And there were a lot of us, too, not just one or two. My squad alone had at least a dozen in it. Maybe more.”

Corvus looked confused. “I’m sorry, but did you say that your squad alone contained a dozen members?”

“Yes. At least.”

“And how many squads were there?”

“I dunno. Four, maybe?”

“Four?” Corvus’s eyebrows went up so high they were lost under his fringe. “So, as many as fifty students may have been involved in this? The reports I have here mention nothing of such numbers...”

“Then they’re wrong,” said Rosevania. “Wait–can I ask how many students went to the Hole after we were arrested?”

Torino yawned. “Oh dear. This is getting tedious, isn’t it?”

“Rather,” said Drones. “My lord prince, do we really need to hear all these silly details? I mean, what does it matter how many students took part?”

“Oh, I must say, I quite agree with Parms on this, my lord prince,” said Torino, stretching his arms in what seemed like an exaggerated way.

“Thank you, Bo-Bo dear,” said Drones.

“Welcome, dear. Oh, and this investigation has gone on long enough, don’t you think?” said Torino, yawning. “It’s very boring, and I can think of a hundred far more exciting things we could do with our time.” He looked meaningfully at Corvus’s lap.

“What the fuck is going on here?” asked Rosevania, narrowing his eyes. They were obviously trying to cover something up. “How many students went to the Hole besides me? More importantly, who didn’t go? Did Romelo go? Tell me that Romelo went to the Hole as well!”

“I move to terminate this investigation,” said Drones. “Immediately.”

Torino winked at him. “Seconded.”

Corvus looked at his companions, shocked. “Oh dear. I simply cannot believe the two of you!”

“My lord prince?” Drones looked frightened.

“We are conducting an investigation,” said Corvus, “into an episode in which noble sons of this great city were grievously injured and could easily have lost their lives. In fact, some may yet lose their lives! Some of the individuals involved come from very important Sergei families! There are provincial families involved too, granted, but we cannot merely ignore them, can we? No! No, no, no! This is an event that, though apparently trivial to you, has the potential to send shockwaves throughout our entire dominion. Lo! We must remember that the eyes of the world are upon us, just as we must remember that we are expected to do our utmost to uncover the truth of the matter. Ours is a lofty task indeed. The ramifications–not only of what has happened but how we are seen to respond to it–why, they simply boggle the mind! No, I cannot emphasise enough how serious this is, my dear fellows. So, please, I urge us to complete our duties with due diligence!”

Torino and Drones cringed like dogs about to be whipped. “Oh, my lord prince,” said Torino, his voice on the edge of breaking. “Pray forgive us.”

“Absolutely, my lord prince,” said Drones. “Forgive us, even though I know that we have surely given you just cause to chasten us so ferociously.” He let out a sob.

Corvus’s face softened and he put his arms around the pair. “There, there,” he said, pouting. “My dear, dear sweet brethren! Did I speak too harshly with you just now? Of a certainty, I did. There, I freely admit it. But can you not see that we are almost finished here? And I just know what a relief it will be to the public when they come to understand, as surely as we do in our heart of hearts, that there could not possibly have been a guilty party in this matter. It was all, quite obviously, an accident. Nevertheless, before we deliver that final judgement, let us please allow this man to continue with his testimony.”

Rosevania froze. Was he right in assuming that, unlike himself, his cousin had so far received no punishment? And likely wouldn’t? “Did you just say,” he said, mouth open, “that you think what happened was all just an accident?”

“Hmm?” said Corvus, waving a hand. “Er, just... just go on with your tale please, Lozano. And skip ahead, too, if you don’t mind, to the altercation itself.”

“Yes,” said Torino, mirroring Corvus’s gesture. “Just skip to the fight, please, Lozano.”

“Then you’re free to go back to your boarding house,” said Drones. “Or wherever. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Rosevania sighed. “Whatever.” The Hole had left him exhausted and aching, and he wasn’t entirely sure if being around these idiots wasn’t doing his head in. Better just to give them what they wanted, for good or ill. Whatever was going to happen was probably out of his hands anyway. “So, as I was saying, we had the job of trying to corral Elrond. It took some doing, but we finally got him cornered in some back street. Romelo had made it clear we weren’t to do anything until after he got there...

“Anyway, when Romelo finally showed up, he made this rambling anti-foreigner speech that made no sense. I mean, we had at least a half dozen Ivarians with us, and others from the provinces! I was glad of that speech though, because it made me realise what an idiot he was. And his speech definitely pissed the Ivarians off. He tried to make another one, but it was just a repeat of the first. He was apoplectic by the end of it, raving about how Elrond had to die for having the gall not to be born a Sergei. Oh, it was something else, that speech.

“So, we all stood there for ages, just looking at each other. The Ivarians were shaking their heads, saying they were leaving. I told Romelo in no uncertain terms we weren’t going to kill Elrond. A student by the name of Villasenor backed me up. Romelo wasn’t happy about it, of course. He started screaming his head off about how Villasenor was a traitor to the Sergei cause, or some shit. Then they started wrestling, and Romelo stabbed him in the arm. Swords came out, and then some of Elrond’s friends showed up. They must have gotten wind about what Romelo was doing and, well, anyway… talk about bad timing. Things got confusing. There were too many people there, too much happening. A lot of shouting. Tempers frayed. And then, of course, everything went to shit...”

Rosevania took a deep breath. “It was chaos. Total chaos. People were screaming and fighting. Benton... Ah, shit. I remember Benton going toe to toe with Milo. Milo opened him up from wrist to elbow, and then spun around and damn near took off Mora’s entire hand. He came at me, too, like he didn’t even know me. We were friends, or so I thought. I’ll never forget his eyes… he just went fuckin’ crazy! I fended him off, but I knew I was going to get hurt. Luckily some others came in at that point and he got distracted. And then I remember Beccera going around Benton...”

“And?” asked Corvus.

Rosevania put his head in his hands. “Beccera… he got around Benton and ran him through. Or at least he tried to. His blade snapped off, I think, but it must have gone in deep.” He looked up. “Shit. You don’t know if he’s all right, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” said Corvus, shaking his head. “A number of the... injured combatants... have since returned to their homes.”

“There must have been a few. What about Lucius? His face was cut, I think. Do you know if he’s all right?”

“No,” said Corvus. “Please go on with your story, Lozano.”

Rosevania shook his head. “That’s it. That’s all I remember. I can’t… I mean, the rest is a blur. I can’t really remember what happened after that, exactly. Not with any detail. All I know is that we all ended up getting arrested and taken to the Hole. And now I’m here, talking to you…”

Corvus tapped the table with a finger. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” said Rosevania with a sigh. “I guess that’s it. Gods, it was all so fucking stupid. I can’t even believe it actually happened. We were all friends and we turned on each other. And for what? Fucking Romelo.”

“You know,” said Corvus, “your story is much the same as others we’ve heard. Mind you, your cousin Ales painted a totally different picture of events. Would you like to know what he said?”

Rosevania felt his anger rising. “I would.”

“It’s quite interesting, actually. He said that you, Wes, and others attacked him and his friends.”

“He fuckin’ said what?”

“Why? Do you find that... objectionable?”

“Of course I do!” shouted Rosevania, making a fist. “It’s a complete fucking lie!”

“Oh, hardly!” shouted Drones. “After all, the Romelo family is practically royalty!”

“Well said,” said Torino, giving Rosevania a peevish look. “What would such a personage have to gain from lying? Oh, but you’d have us slander royalty, Lozano, is that it? Perhaps your spell in the dungeons has unbalanced you?”

“Royalty?” said Rosevania. “First I hear you calling Corvus here a prince, and now you’re saying House Romelo is royalty? What is this? Sergeeva is a fucking republic! Have you lost your fucking minds?”

“I think you have the right of it,” said Corvus, nodding at Torino. “Our dear friend Lozano here does indeed appear to have been affected adversely by his spell in the dungeons.” He slapped the table with a hand. “And so, I do believe that brings us to the conclusion of our investigation! I shall have our final report drafted, naturally, but I think it’s safe to say that, as we suspected from the outset, what happened was but a simple disagreement amongst hotheaded youths. And one that, regrettably, got somewhat out of hand. It’s the very definition of the word ‘accident’ is it not? Boys will be boys, eh?”

Rosevania jumped to his feet, heedless of his squalling, protesting muscles. “Fuckin’ what?”

Corvus feigned deafness. “We are done here, Lozano,” he said, standing up. “A small levy will be imposed upon the families of the individuals involved to compensate our fine city for disturbing its peace. With the exception of the Romelo family, of course. You’re free to go back to your studies. Good day.”

“Good day,” said Drones and Torino together. They filed out of the room in Corvus’s wake, their noses pointed at the ceiling. The guards followed.

Rosevania stared after them. Good day? He’d just gotten out of the Hole for doing his cousin’s dirty work. Dirty work that had gotten friends badly hurt. And gotten his family fined into the bargain? And Romelo’s punishment for starting all the trouble was apparently… nothing? No. It would not stand. “What the fuck?” he screamed, hurling his chair across the room. It skidded and bounced off a wall. Ignoring the pain flaring in his arms and back, he went to retrieve it and dashed it against the floor until it broke apart. He did the same with each of the remaining chairs.

He paced around the room, livid. Oh, he wasn’t done here yet–far from it! He jumped onto the table. It flexed and wobbled under his weight, but didn’t crack down the middle like he’d hoped. With a roar, he leapt off and upended the thing. “Motherfucker!” he bellowed, kicking at the remnants of the broken chairs and sending them flying.

In his mind’s eye, Romelo laughed at his efforts. “I’ll fucking kill you, Romelo!” he screamed. Summoning the last of his strength, he grabbed the table by two legs and ran with the whole thing, using it as a battering ram against one of the doors. The door came away with only minor damage, but one of the table legs snapped off in his hands. He sagged to the ground, sore and spent. “I’ll fucking kill you,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’ll fucking kill you.”