Chapter 15.2

“Please, please, have a seat. Do not stand on my account, my dear. This is effectively your meeting room, even if we are all only visiting temporarily.” He gestured toward the main chair at the head of the table, and Camilla approached it, her nerves boiling. With great hesitation, she sat. “Do you mind if I sit as well?” he asked.

“O-of course,” she responded. “You need not ask my permission, Praevus.” Flustered as she was, the words stumbled out of her.

“Nonsense,” he said with a handwave. “Civility is the foundation of civilization. It is politeness and propriety that separate us from the barbarians and the beasts of the wastes. Would you not agree?” He flopped down into the chair across from her, crossing his legs.

“Certainly.” She didn’t even give it thought. It mattered little whether she truly agreed or not. She eyed the man along with the sentinels who stood off to the side. “Would you like something to drink, Praevus Emver? I believe there is a maid still outside who could fetch us something?”

“No, no, I don’t believe that will be necessary. We’ll only be here for a moment, and I’ve much to do, having just arrived. Though, I thank you for the offer. I must say, I am quite surprised that you haven’t picked up a maid for yourself still, after having left the academy, my Lady. Have you gotten so used to your time without one that you’ve forgone them completely?”

“Well,” she paused, “I actually recently obtained a new one not long after arriving here. She’s simply taking a break today. I’ve been working the poor girl ragged, and felt she might like a day off.” As much as she could have used a maid in a situation like this, Pearl was much safer being away from the Praevus as much as possible. Camilla took comfort in the fact that she was likely off spending time with her father, nowhere near the mansion or this dangerous man.

There was a momentary awkward pause before he gave her a smile. “I expected nothing less from you. Always the gentle-hearted one.” He spoke as though they knew each other, as though their previous meetings hadn’t been exceedingly short. “I look forward to meeting her. I’m sure she must be quite the girl to have won a spot as your maid.”

“She does her job well,” Camilla hedged.

“Please do tell, have you been enjoying your stay so far? I’ve been anticipating trying out the local cuisine, and am curious as to how different it might be this far East. I hope the cook here is quite proficient?”

“Well, I haven’t had any complaints. Though I can’t say I have tried anything truly new as of yet.” What was the point of all this small talk, Camilla wondered? Was he simply toying with her?

“I look forward to it. Perhaps I’ll make a request for something more local.” He rubbed the bottom of his chin.

“Praevus.”

Emver hummed. “Yes, Lady Camilla?”

“If it’s not too forward of me to ask…” He gestured for her to continue. “Why are you here?”

There was a pause.

Praevus Emver stared into Camilla’s eyes. An unsettling chill passed over her, and a bead of sweat formed on her brow. One of the sentinels shifted, and she struggled not to visibly react. She wondered how he would take her question. Whether he would assume she meant ‘here’ as in Sunridge or ‘here’ in this very room. And whether the answer would be the same for both.

“Perhaps you are unfamiliar with my work?” he stated.

Her eyes momentarily glazed as memories fleetingly passed. Blood soaking into the wooden floorboards. The Praevus standing off to the side, chatting casually about someone’s new suit. A full room of people standing next to a paling corpse with open eyes staring blankly in Camilla’s direction.

Camilla did her best not to react, not to show fear. Not to seem suspicious or guilty. “You’re in charge of those who’ve been Marked.” Her words came out almost as a whisper.

“Yes, it is one of my most important duties. The Marked need a firm hand to guide them, as I’m sure you can imagine. Your kind have the blood of the wastes within them, beasts of nature held back only by their human origins. It is because of this that they have a tendency to forget their place, to abandon civility and propriety, both important principles of the Haizar Empire.”

His eyes stared into Camilla’s, the once smiling face now neutral. “The Marked must be kept in check, else they become a blight on our great nation. It is for this reason that I leave no stone unturned, no peculiarities overlooked. Every effort must be made to ensure that no illicit secrets slip by us and that eyes are kept on even the most virtuous of the Marked.”

Camilla’s face slowly paled. Was he saying that he knew something? That somehow he knew of her intentions here?

“And so brings me to my other important duty. I don’t merely manage the Marked that are held in the grasp of the Empire but also investigate those who have slipped out of it. From time to time, one of your kind begins to think that they can cast off their duties, that they do not need our guiding hand pulling them back into the Empire’s light and can instead skulk about in its shadows. It is my duty, bestowed unto me by the Emperor himself, to rein these Marked back in, or if necessary, eliminate the dangerous threat to society that they have become.”

Camilla shifted uncomfortably as his eyes continued to stare. Despite her pale complexion and terror, she tried to keep her face passive, a smile on her lips. Was this his way of simply trying to keep her in check, to prevent her from considering going rogue, or was it possible that he somehow knew of her plans? That she intended to contact these “smugglers” when she had the chance? That she hoped it could be a path to her escape?

She had to consider the possibility that he knew nothing, that perhaps he simply wanted to instill fear into her to keep her loyal. How could he know for certain what she hoped to do when it was something she’d never written or spoken a word of? The man was here for some specific reason, but it was just as likely that he was here instead for the smugglers themselves, that perhaps he planned to bring them in under his control or make certain that they were disposed of.

There was, of course, one other possibility. She hadn’t told anyone that she’d never taken the vial of Lezun gifted to her, that she’d been saving it to either take it at some later date or trade it for a chance to escape. With it stolen, or rather, with someone having snuck into her room and used it, arrogantly leaving the shattered vial behind, could it be that he’d somehow known all along about her having kept it hidden? Did he think that the substance wasn’t stolen at all but had instead been given or traded to someone?

The silence of the room pressed down on her. Praevus Emver sat in front of her, seemingly waiting for her response, his fingers casually intertwined along the desk. Meanwhile, the black sentinels still stood off to the side, their presence feeling like more of a threat than ever, the scythe of the reaper hovering over her neck, ready to take it whenever it pleased him.

Camilla cleared her throat. “So then, you’re here to assess these smugglers, I assume? Have you found out who they are then?”

He smiled. “We’ve been steadily making progress on their identities. I believe that the dear Captain was preparing to make a move. I’ve proposed that we wait, however. I’d much prefer that we capture all of them at once, and make sure that none of these criminals slip through the cracks. As I’m sure you know, the substance that they’ve been dealing in is of a rather dangerous nature. Should it get into the wrong hands, it could become a danger to not only the area but the Empire itself.”

Camilla’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t dared hope that it would be true, that the smugglers would have the exceedingly rare Lezun, the stuff she would need if she wanted to grow in power enough to crush her shackles. Losing the vial she’d had hidden away, that she’d been saving for the right moment, had been a crushing blow to her. But if there was more… “We’ve confirmed it then? They truly do have it?”

“Not precisely, no. Though it is the most likely scenario, given what we’ve learned. Which is all the more reason for us to tread carefully, to make sure that nothing slips by us.” He stared into her eyes for a long awkward moment, until his hand reached out across the table, grabbing onto hers. She sucked in a breath, a strike of fear running up her spine. She wanted to pull away, to hit him for daring to touch her like this, to cry and run for her life. Disgust rolled through her belly, but she made sure it didn’t show on her face. Still, her smile became massively strained.

“My dear, Camilla,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re letting your greed show through. Do not let such thoughts cloud your mind. That path only leads to ruin. You are a great asset to the Empire. It would be unfortunate to lose you.”

She gulped. “O-of course, Praevus Emver. Forgive me.”

“The desire for power tempts us all, I understand. But we must not forget that all we do is ultimately in the service of the Empire and the Emperor, not ourselves. Your Mark is itself, a gift, a responsibility. Never forget that.” He stared seriously into her eyes once again, fingers rubbing across her skin. “As well, you have already been given an additional gift, the vial to boost your strength.”

There was a pause. “Yes, it was very generous,” she said hesitantly. Her hand itched, still gripped firmly in the man’s palms. Desperately, she wanted to pull away from the intimate touch, to run out the door and never stop. But all she could do was sit and bear it, pretending that nothing was wrong, that it wasn't a veiled threat, that she wasn't about to die. Did he suspect her? Did he think that she'd given it to someone? Was this where her life would end, sitting here in this small room, surrounded by men she feared and hated? Would they believe her if she told them the truth, that she had no real idea on who had taken it?

“I’m glad you appreciated it. I was the one to approve it, after all. I thought it might be useful to you considering how dangerous this mission might end up.” His fingers rubbed along her palm, as though in a calming gesture. Camilla was quite certain she was going to be sick. Nausea rolled up her belly and into her throat. Her head felt light, and sweat gathered along her forehead. She did her best to take steadying breaths. All the while, the Praevus never released her hand. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me about it?”

Her eyes flicked over once more to the men still standing off to the right of the room. In their hands still sat the deadly spitfires, the weapons which could end her life in a single moment. While they stood casually, it was clear that they were prepared to kill, if, when the need arose.

Her breath shuddered. A tear rolled down her cheek.

The moment of truth. “I—“ She took another breath. “I never took it, consumed it.”

Emver gave her a gentle smile and patted her hand. “And why not, my dear?”

“I w-was waiting for the right moment, waiting until I was closer to breaking through to the next stage.” She sucked in a shaky breath.

He nodded as though this made perfect sense to him, though perhaps it did. He likely knew all about how being Marked functioned.

“Was?” he asked, taking note of her use of the past tense.

“It was s-stolen,” she managed to force out, though her tears had begun to steadily drip down her cheeks.

He frowned, and Camilla nearly panicked. He wasn’t going to believe her. He was going to kill her. Right here and now. A corpse was spread out across the floor, blood staining the wood. Several feet away, the Praevus laughed at some joke.

A smile came back across his face, and he patted her hand once more. “Don’t worry, my Lady. I will find out what happened to your vial. And the culprit will be rightly punished for their crimes.” Finally, he released her, sitting back into his chair, once more in a relaxed pose.

She let out a long breath of air and nearly collapsed. Her hands gripped together underneath the table, and she sniffled, attempting to clear her running nose.

He wasn’t killing me, she thought. He wasn’t killing me. At least not yet.

She looked back into his smiling eyes as her mind went back over his words. ‘I will find out what happened to your vial.’ He hadn’t specifically said he believed her story, merely that he’d find out what happened. And that someone would be punished. She wasn’t off of the chopping block yet. The reaper's scythe still hovered.

Sniffing once more, and wiping a tear from her cheek, she said. “Thank you, Praevus. Thank you.”