She took the news of their new route with the grace of a holiday maker who had just been told that their flight had been cancelled. Her face fell, she bit her lip, and considered how much it would cost her to find an alternative route; it was all done, however, gracefully and without uttering a single word. Orion had expected his words not to have the best reception and had come prepared:
"It is a beautiful city, most worthy of spending some time around. And I can guarantee it's full of places where no one will think to look for you."
"Accidents happen, don't they?" Ophelia pouted. "Are you sure we couldn't meet the caravans closer to the border?"
"We could, but they don't risk stowaways. They ought to have every member of their party registered in their border permits, and the closest place to the main route here to get them is Sophia," Orion nudged her. "And, it's easier to hide when there's more people. In a small town we'll become the object of their gossip very quickly."
Ophelia couldn't argue with that logic, and given her limited knowledge of that world, there was little she could do but trust the praetorian. The previous day they'd both agreed to let the lazy afternoon treat them to a long walk they could use to catch up; this time, they'd journey properly on horseback, trying to close as much distance with the city as possible.
The saddle that was meant for one rider had trouble accommodating two. Orion had modified it with his aether so that at least it'd be possible for Ophelia to sit, but she had to stay very close to him. After a while, the prodding from the leather bits that stuck out and the constant shuffling to make sure she stayed in balance began to grate on her. It wasn't quite like riding with the Phrygians, who usually used bigger steeds and bigger saddles; or when she'd been paraded around by Aegyr in Arqa, where the trip had been short enough.
"Have you ever had those dreams where you're able to kick up and fly?" she asked, so caught up in her own discomfort that she'd spent several minutes fantasizing of a way to ease her troubles.
"Once or twice, yes," Orion replied, curious as to where her mind was going.
"Have you ever tried to do that while awake?"
He laughed. "You want to fly?"
"Might as well give it a try."
They dismounted, and Orion sat back with his arms crossed to watch her attempts with a small smile. She thought about the way she'd float up and down the way most Elysian nobles did when riding or leaving a boat; something else needed to happen for her to go higher, and move at a relatively fast speed. If she thought about rollercoasters, and her body being carried by an unseen carriage, she could feel her aether responding: she floated one or two meters up into the air, then much like a broken videogame, she was propelled to move forwards.
"Oh no, no, no," she exclaimed, and immediately slowed down to sit back on the ground. She didn't remember the words for 'vestibular system' but she knew that something in her inner ear was prepared to tell her body if she was in balance or now, and how to react to movement; moving without exercising any part of her body sent mixed signals to her brain, and it made her feel sick. "That wasn't good," she murmured, as she tried to regain her composure.
Behind her, Orion had brought his sympathies. "I have tried it once or twice, but as you've seen, it feels incredibly unpleasant."
Ophelia stood up again; again armed with her very scarce knowledge of the senses, she figured she could perhaps try something else. The superman strategy was out of the window; but there was still something she could appropriate from videogame logic: power jumps.
She jumped into the air this time, and with her aether she made it so that her body lost some of its debt to gravity – she covered more distance and didn't fall as quickly, giving her time to kick up again mid-air into her next jump. The feeling of weightlessness still churned her stomach, but the more she tried the less nauseous she felt: and without anyone in that world knowing what those terms meant, she had in some way learnt a cheat code to speedrun her way through it.
She landed back next to Orion triumphantly after doing a few laps. "Well, that works better," she said. He clapped, smiling brightly at her success.
"I had never thought of that," he said in awe. "I have enhanced the impact of a hit at times, or made it so a blow directed at me would fail to connect at the last minute, but I never thought about making it so I could cover more distances."
"Two minds are better than one," Ophelia winked. "Want to try it?"
She shared with him how she thought about it; after a few tries, he had more or less figured out what she meant. And then, shortly, he was also doing some speed running of his own. "Oh, how useful this will be. I've always been exasperated that there hasn't been a way to improve travel times for centuries…"
Ophelia was about to propose that they try to see how far they can make it to Sophia that way, but as she was about to say that, voices began to be heard in the distance.
They had stopped to try their tricks right next to the main road; it was inevitable that some other traveller would sooner or later pass them by. She heard the calm gallop of horses and knew that these weren't locals, who normally either walked or used simple mule-drawn carriages to go to and from the fields. "Should we hide?" she asked Orion, knowing that if she'd picked up on it he'd have also noticed it.
"They will see my horse," his steed was of a specific breed that was only given to high level officials, and was very easily recognisable. "Hide yourself, and I will try to cover for you."
The trees around them didn't give them enough cover, and beyond there was nothing but fields. Ophelia decided then that it would be better to hide up rather than on the ground, and floated herself to the top of a particularly bushy oak tree, hoping it would do the trick. She tried to ask Orion if that was good, but his attention was on the Knights that were coming to a stop next to his horse.
"Greetings, my lord!" there were two of them, equally dressed in their dark blue tunics. "We're on our way to Sophia. Is that perhaps where you're headed?"
Orion was all charisma. He walked closer to them with a smile on his face. "I was on my way back; I've been made a messenger boy, and I must carry a missive from the high priest back to Aurelia."
"Oh, you're the praetorian primum, I recognise you!" one of the Knights said. "You brought her highness to the Pleroma on the Announcement day!"
"Aye, that I did, lord…?"
"Baron Janus at your service, my lord," the knight presented himself. "Has there been any news about her highness? I was extremely shocked when I heard about her disappearance."
"I'm afraid I'm not at the liberty to share what I know. But there has been some fortuitous developments."
"Ah, I hope she's found soon," replied the baron.
His companion was eager to bring up something that clearly had been a topic of conversation on their travels: "I have been pressing the Baron for details on her highness the whole way through, my lord; forgive my impertinence but I'm curious to hear your thoughts as I know you also had the fortune of escorting her from Arqa. The Baron thinks of her highness as quite frightening; would you agree as well?"
Ophelia perked up at that. Were her antics that scary at the Pleroma?
"She can be a handful, yes," Orion replied with a smirk. "And perhaps to some folks her Byzantine heritage can come off as very scary; but one can never complain about a lack of entertainment when she's around."
"I wish I had been able to see her," the unnamed Knight lamented. "Thank you for sharing your thoughts, my lord."
"Would you like to see her?" Orion said to the man with a wink. "Why is that?"
"W-well," the Knight spluttered, clearly caught off guard by the question, "I've heard she's very beautiful; and seeing her aether would perhaps be a sight one only experiences once in a thousand years…"
Orion laughed. "You're correct on both accounts, my esteemed friend. Maybe today could be your lucky day…"
Ophelia hadn't been sure what game Orion had been playing until then, but the moment she felt the trunk of the tree shake underneath her it became clearer that something was up. Paralysed by her fear of being caught, she didn't think to move until it was too late – the oak tree suddenly gained a mind of its own, and its roots came alive, emerging with great effort from the ground. It stood on those wooden gnarly feet and began to walk towards where the Knights and Orion had been chatting. Ophelia, grabbing onto the trunk for all her life was worth felt very much like a scared cat that is afraid to jump down from the tree.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" she switched to English to scream at the praetorian, who was now laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach. He made the tree swivel, and Ophelia slipped. Before she could react she felt herself being gently moved – right into Orion's arms.
"Oh, I seem to have caught myself a woman," he said with a grand old shit-eating grin. Ophelia, still in his arms, beat at his chest. "Wouldn't you look at it, my friend? Byzantines are falling off the trees nowadays."
"Orion!" she shouted, indignant. "What are you doing?"
She was finally allowed to stand back on her feet. The Knight who had seen her at the Pleroma jumped off his horse, his face red with tears. The other one was frozen, absolutely struck dumb by what was happening.
"Your highness," the Baron fell to his knees, "it brings me such happiness to see you alive and well. We were so worried…"
Ophelia exchanged a glance with Orion, who simply shrugged as if he meant to say that it was all hers to deal with. She put a hand on the man's shoulder to comfort him, "Ah, a little accident brought me back to Byzantium. I was only able to make my way back two days ago."
The Baron turned around and made wild gestures at the other man to join him. This made the frozen Knight react, who then promptly dismounted and bowed deeply to her. "I am beyond grateful for this opportunity to meet you, your highness."
Ophelia, who didn't know what to say to such reverence, smiled awkwardly at the both of them. "I heard your name, Baron Janus, what about yours…?"
The fact that she'd remembered his name brought a wide smile to his face; his companion, as well, was ecstatic that Ophelia of Byzantium wanted to know his name. "Nemo of the County of Uquirra," he said.
"A pleasure," Ophelia said, smiling at Nemo, who up close seemed to be younger than the Baron, and certainly younger than her. The man blushed and ducked his head.
"I think it's high time we go back to the road," Orion said, offering a hand to Ophelia. "We've got a long way to go."
"Ah yes, my lord had said about being on the way to Aurelia earlier? Could it be that the Mystae will not be held in Sophia after all?"
"It is not clear at this time," Orion smiled. "His majesty the Emperor himself is on the road to Aurelia, I've heard. We've just been told to go there."
The Baron nodded thoughtfully and thanked him for the information. Orion then walked Ophelia to his horse, and asked her to mount it, and they both set off in the opposite direction they were supposed to go.
"Before you get angry," he said in her ear, "this is just a little decoy. We shall go just a little bit further, then turn back. Do you know how to put two men to sleep?"
Ophelia, confused, said she wasn't. "Push on their minds, a bit like this," she felt a bit of pressure on her forehead, which she instinctively pushed back against. "Unlike you, they probably won't be able to fight it, and will fall unconscious."
He asked her to try it. "Good… although as exciting as it feels to have you forcefully pushing against me, do be more gentle. They won't need as much strength."
Ophelia blushed. "Must you be so corny?"
"I'm quite the rogue character, aren't I?"
Orion soon stopped his horse, and told her they'd be trying out that little flying jump trick she'd invented earlier. "They won't hear us approach," he said with a wink, and kicked off the ground. She followed him, wondering at how strangely… powerful he seemed to be all of the sudden. When she'd met him in Arqa and during their journey towards the empire she admitted she didn't quite see much of his strength, but his attempts at shaping a little creature using her methods had left her the impression that he was coming a little bit under Aegyr. She had been wrong, she could tell now: perhaps it was all part of his role as a praetorian, which much like an intelligence agent needed to show different faces to different people. In the presence of Aegyr, perhaps, he'd wanted to play the role of subordinate; now that they were alone, perhaps he just wanted to show he could catch up to her.
That he was naturally mischievous didn't help at all to lessen the sensation that Ophelia was seeing a carefully constructed mask. She wondered what was his reason for showing her that side of himself. As she followed in his footsteps, she felt for the first time that perhaps she should have continued running when he found her at the lake. There was something risky about trusting him, and she didn't know if she could afford to gamble right then and there.
They caught up to the Knights soon enough. The flying steps were not only quick to cover distances – they also made no sound, and allowed them to travel almost completely silent. Of course, she realized, that there was some stamina needed to keep it up for prolonged periods of time – she was, after all, jumping into the air. Orion, who was more used to physical activity than her, had no trouble; she, on the other side, had begun to get winded. She tried not to make her breathing too loud; as they both dropped to the ground, before their feet made contact, they both launched their attack on the Knights.
The Baron and the young man of the County both instantly collapsed, their bodies losing all their strength like puppets whose strings have been cut. Ophelia and Orion both eased them out of their mounts, and carried them to the side of the road, hidden more or less from view by a hedge and a few trees, and walked their steeds to accompany them.
"How long will it take them to wake up?" Ophelia asked. The praetorian shrugged.
"Anywhere from four hours to two days. I've had different degrees of success with this trick." Ophelia's look of alarm elicited a chuckle from him. "They will be fine," he clarified. "If they're not found by another traveller, they will definitely be found by the farmer who works this field."
As they prepared to go back to pick up Orion's steed, Ophelia asked:
"What's the point of all this? They will know it was us. They will tell everyone they saw me – accompanied by you. You'll be complicit in my escape," and then she went on, one eyebrow arched. "Unless, of course, you are not trying to help me escape."
Orion held up his hands.
"I am at your beck and call, your highness," he said. "But you see – my position is such that it doesn't answer to anyone but the Emperor himself, and as his most trusted agent I am privy as to some of the workings of his mind. And I happen to know that should Elysium fail to convince you to stay, his majesty would rather I keep an eye on you. So do not worry for me – I will not be branded a traitor any time soon."
"That doesn't make me feel better at all!" Ophelia pouted. "Are you not trying to just take me back to Sophia to meet the Emperor?"
"I'm a good boy, I promise," he said, but it didn't make her feel any better. Before she could continue with her protests, he took her hand, and carried her into the air. They made it back to his loyal steed, who was leisurely grazing at the side of the road.
The journey to Sophia continued, and they passed by the sleeping Knights. The next two days passed without much fanfare, except for a little prank they decided to play on a passing caravan from one of the many nobles leaving the great holy city after the Mystae had been called off. From afar, Ophelia had recognised the coat of armour on the carriage as one she'd been shown by a pompous Count in the after party of her presentation in the Pleroma.
"Oh, please don't even try pulling what you did with the Knights," she said, "you could punch that man in the face and he would remain conscious solely by his will to keep speaking to you about some nonsense or another."
"Poor thing clearly doesn't have anything interesting to talk about," Orion countered. "Let's give him a little gift to carry back."
And so they waited until the carriage was close enough and then, hidden behind the hedges, they transformed the leaves of a nearby willow tree into jackdaws. The mindless birds flocked towards the procession, flying over and through the vehicle, which had no doors or windows to speak of. They attacked the two young men who were on horseback, lightly pecking at their hair. The commotion made the carriages stop and the two men inside ran out screaming, trying to bat away the mischievous birds.
And when they had begun to use their aether to try and blow them away, both tricksters decided to drop the illusion and the jackdaws once again turned back into leaves. A shower of brown and yellow fell on the confused Count and his companions, who began demanding in a loud voice an explanation for what had just happened. They obviously never got it, as Orion and Ophelia left the scene of their crime holding their stomachs in laughter.
The arrival to Sophia sobered Ophelia up pretty quickly. The holy city, as it was called, had grown around a sprawling complex of temples and residences built over and around seven hills. Each one had been named after one of the Emperor's labours, which much like Herakles' on Earth were a number of tales that acted as fables to teach children about virtues. The one furthest to the north was the tallest, and it was where the Emperor himself resided: the whole complex occupied the entire hill, with gardens and groves so colourful their beauty could be admired even as one approached the city. The setting sun stole a glimmer or two of the roof of the central temple at the top of the hill, which had been covered entirely in gold.
Similarly, the other six hills had been turned into copies of that bright, breath-taking centre piece of various grades of quality: more temples adorned their zeniths, and one could tell that the rich and the privileged had tried to laid their stake on the city by building their residence close to where they could get a direct line of sight to the holiest temple in all of Elysium.
As they began to ride into Sophia proper, Ophelia noticed that there was an abundance of children and young men and women on the streets, often wearing similar beige robes. Orion told her that Sophia was also seen as a city of learning: it was where most of the Empire's academies were, and also where scholars congregated to research aether and find new applications of their incredible powers. She imagined that perhaps it was also slave to the peculiarities of university towns like Cambridge or Oxford, where the young students both pursued their intellectual growth and also engaged with the passions and nonsense of teenage and early adulthood drama.
They ducked into the narrow alleyways of the east side of the city, where the bustle and hustle of the caravans that came into town to acquire their border permits usually arranged their overnight stays. It was seedier than the bright west, the solemn north or the cheerful south; a place that contained all the darker aspects every city needed to offer. Orion pointed out the brothels to her, the inns where the itinerant prostitutes would stay at; he told her where she could get all manners of contraband, and where she could find fake permits. When she asked him why he didn't do anything about all the unlawfulness as a diligent agent of the Empire, he replied "the more you fight it, the worse it becomes. It will never go away; so it's better to simply let it run its course, allow it to feel the tension but never flourish more than it's necessary."
"It's a necessary evil, your highness. Everything has its place in Elysium, even things like this."
They stayed in one of the better inns, the one that was clearly mostly occupied by well-to-do merchants and low-level bureaucrats. "This is where I stay when I come into the city," Orion said with a wink. "They're also good at keeping their silence."
That night, Ophelia had been idly staring out of the window while they finished their meal, when a strange sense of anxiety began to creep on her. Perhaps it was the city, or an aftershock of her stay in London: something was not quite right. She looked over at Orion, and knew that he was partly to blame. Unlike any of his other travel companions so far, she wasn't quite sure what to make of him or his intentions. Even Aegyr, brick wall that he was at times, turned out to be a fairly simple man once she'd got to know him well enough. There had been a certain openness about Hyperion, Phobos and yes, even Aegyr about what they wanted out of her. With Orion, she could offer an explanation that she'd always second-guess.
So she decided to place a bet, and offer him a test without his knowledge. And as it was the case when someone arrives somewhere strange and new she felt like she could use some company that night. When he took some of the chocolate she'd offered days before, she asked for a piece for herself, and then, without him expecting it she ate it out of his fingers. A half-lidded stare did the rest of the talking, and then he was on her, fingers entangling in her hair and lips eagerly exploring her mouth.
And then, he stopped. "Remember what I said about my offer?" he asked, brown eyes boring into hers with an intensity that felt like it was going to scorch her insides. She nodded. "Strip for me."
Ophelia's eyes didn't leave his face as she slowly undid her belt, and one by one removed her toga and her tunic. It wasn't that she was completely alien to what he was proposing; she had certainly never experienced it first hand, but she had heard about it, read about it. By all appearances she surrendered her agency: she only moved when he said to, only did as much as he wanted; when he touched and took her beyond what she was comfortable with, she said nothing.
It was exciting, it felt forbidden and all the typical things most would feel about that sort of situation. But underneath it all she knew she had the key to stop it all; and she knew he wasn't aware of her intentions. Sometimes people revealed themselves when they thought others vulnerable: when she indulged in her own humiliation she thought, perhaps, that he'd cross a line and the mask he'd been wearing would crack, and she'd finally relieve her anxiety that he'd betray her. But if he was intending to do so it would not happen in the bedroom: he pushed her but never went too far, always managing to wring a pleasured gasp out of her in the end.
And at the end of it all he cradled her, and softly kissed every mark his hands had left on her body. They both laughed at their own naughtiness: their bodies sticking to each other, back to being partners in crime, spent and speechless. Ophelia fell asleep thinking of nothing, the night transforming into day in the blink of an eye.
The anxiety did not disappear in the early hours of the morning; but she was able to put it in the back of her head again, and falling on top of a helpless praetorian who was trying to get out of bed, she trapped him against the floor. "I rather like breaking my fast this way," he said as he arched upwards under her weight, his finger digging into the marks of the previous night.
They missed the morning altogether; it was near noon that they left their rooms under the knowing eyes of an amused innkeeper. Ophelia's hair was down, falling over her shoulders to hide the sides of her neck, but Orion proudly kept his up in his usual ponytail, showing the fresh remnants of the woman's breakfast meal. She had tried to no avail to convince him to hide them, but he'd have none of it: "a man ought to celebrate being the object of such passion" he said.
He led her through the streets with abandon. He ducked into alleyways, turned corners without really bothering to look at the scrawled signs on the walls; he knew where to take care in the road, where to rush through the never ending lines of carriages and horses. It felt a lot like they were back in Arqa that first afternoon of their acquaintance, and just like that time, he decided to take her somewhere to have a taste of the local cuisine.
"Today, your highness, I shall be your guide," he said proudly. "There are many wonders in Sophia's east side. I thought, perhaps, as we make our way to the post where the caravans make their stop, that I could show you around."
"And, so as to not lose to those pesky Arqans, I will show you what the commoners eat in the streets."
He led her to a big plaza. In the centre a single pump acted as a sort of meeting place: groups of two to four women chatted away in its vicinity, the large stone tiles ground and wet by the buckets of water they'd have to carry back home. Children ran around, some of them selling flowers or little clay pipes made by their parents; they all looked well fed, healthy, but their partial nakedness made evident that the east side was not as prosperous as the northern parts of the city. It felt decidedly seedier than perhaps the parts of Aurelia she'd seen, but less so than the crowded streets of Caudiceum. Merchants could often be seen chatting away to someone a few feet from their stalls, a true sign of how little they feared petty thieves.
There was no permanent market building: those who sold food cooked to eat did so by bringing in clay pots the size of a stool where they kept hot coals. Over them they'd have cauldrons or grills to cook or keep warm whatever it was that they were selling. And there was a bit of everything: stews, grilled cheese, vegetables and rabbit meat skewers, sweet oatmeal buns filled with berry compote, and all manners of drink. Orion brought her over to a specific stand, which he said belonged to a blind lady who'd been minding it for about forty five years.
"I was a wee lass when I started, aye," she said after Orion had introduced her to Ophelia. "Met all sorts, knew his papa as well. You'd swear the man had a water nymph turn his reflection into flesh, so similar they are."
"Oh, you grew up around here?" Ophelia perked up.
"My father acted as high priest at the central temple after his time as a Knight, and he would bring us into Sophia once every few months. At that time the central notary was not far from this plaza, which made the east side of the city a far more reputable area. That's how he came to know lady Isabelle."
"Changed a lot this city has," Isabelle reminisced. "Lass, my house is only a few minutes walk from here. I was born there, I raised my five children there, I shall die there as well. But I am a rare breed; many of my friends have moved away to the west or the south sides, as over the years we've seen more and more folks move in. They do not want to work for an honest coin; they look for the contraband, or to do away with some poor trader's lot. And with them came the drunks, the whores, the terrible lot."
"Is it not safe anymore?" asked Ophelia.
"I am an old fox, it would be shameful for me to fall prey to some of what these younglings think they can do. But sweethearts like you, all youth and no brain – and pardon me, I mean no ill, darling, I was a kindred heart at your age as well- they fall for it so easily. They walk about, and then get their coins stolen."
Ophelia wondered how a blind lady could remain safe from the unfortunate lottery that could be inner city living, but she didn't pry any further. Orion rolled his eyes affectionately, obviously already familiar with Isabelle's rants, and pointed towards the little round dumplings the woman was selling.
"They're called globuli," he said. "Some folks like to take curd cheese, cover it in honey and then dip it into hot oil, but lady Isabelle has figured that it makes a difference when one makes the curd cheese with the honey. And these…" he removed the top of a large urn that was at the feet of the old woman, "are also absolutely delicious."
"Pears in wine," not a common dessert in her neck of the woods, Ophelia had only tasted it once or twice during a holiday. It hadn't been the most memorable experience, mostly due to her being not of drinking age and not partial to the strong taste of the wine.
She tried them both; to Orion's credit, both the globuli and the pears made such an impression that her eyes immediately widened as the taste hit her tongue. She went for seconds, telling the praetorian about her previous experiences with the dessert. "But this is much softer, and the wine is less acrid," she explained. "And the cinnamon adds just the right touch of spice."
"Each season lady Isabelle sells something different. Over the years it has become a custom for me to receive each solstice and equinox with a taste of her menu. It does make the passing of time a bit less tedious, when one has something to look forward to," he smiled sadly. "She's not getting any younger, and none of her children decided to continue her trade. It will be very sad when she's no longer there."
"My friend, you are too young to be speaking like that," Ophelia laughed, patting him on the arm. "She has many years ahead of her."
"I wish it was more," he smirked at her. "Will you stick around when she's gone? It would help me get over the sadness."
"Are you not tired of me already?"
He rested his head on her shoulder. "I can never get bored when I'm with you," he murmured. "It has never been an issue for me to read others; and although I think I know a bit of what's going on in that little brain of yours, you always manage to do something that completely breaks the character I've built for you."
Ophelia looked at his profile from the corner of her eye. "If I ever satiate your curiosity, I wonder; will you stop looking my way?"
"Hmm, I think you and I will never stop surprising the other."
On that she could agree.
Off they went after their late brunch to the post – which was little more than a large field with a well, some shoddy stables and a public bath building next to it. As one would expect of a place full of itinerant merchants, one could spot all manners of people in there: of all colours and sizes, from all corners of the globe. A few Knights were always on stand by nearby; different cultures could clash easily, and as Orion had told her, the last few years tensions had been growing due to the rapidly changing landscape of the economy around the Atlantean sea. Trade routes had been opened and closed due to the heightened intervention of Elysian interests in foreign politics, and this made some their fortune, and for others it meant facing ruin. Discussions could turn nasty very easily, and it wasn't uncommon to see some escalating into a proper knife fight.
She heard all sorts of languages, most of which she knew not the names for. They walked around; Orion explained to her that he was looking for some signs of a specific type of caravan. "They should have some women, so as not to arise suspicions of a bride kidnapping at the border. Ideally, with children. Fabric or wool merchants would be the best, as they ought to have some space for us to sit. And they shouldn't be Iberians, or any of the Free Cities: they talk too much. Perhaps Kushites, who are known for keeping quiet."
All the caravans looked too similar for her to make any meaningful distinction, so she stood behind and simply observed the comings and goings of the people around her. Firepits had been built as a sort of meeting point for the caravans, and even in the middle of the day they drew folks around them as they cooked their lunch, talked or generally relaxed. The mood that afternoon was easy going; she knew that if she wanted she could strike a conversation and easily make a friend.
Orion at some point wandered off with a man that had come up to them to offer his services. They weren't the only ones who were sniffing out the caravans, as it was usual for pilgrims and travellers to pay a fee to become luggage of some sort to travel outside of the empire. It was safer: strength in numbers, ready to cross the mountains into Thracia or Phrygia, and for the inexperienced, the only way to get across both famously battle-mad nations unscathed.
"Wait for me; I shall make the arrangements and come back," he said to her and she nodded. Her idle eyes soon found entertainment cataloguing the various peoples she found, trying to guess which ones belonged to the same nation. It was during that exercise that she came across a group of men and women wearing clothing of a style that seemed familiar to her.
Propelled by a hunch, she walked closer to them, and she soon began to recognise the tale-tell thrills of the Chaldean language. The elaborate jewellery and the clothing of the women were not unlike what she'd worn during the Tripartite Council after her stint with the Phrygians. A sharp pain shot through her chest, reminding her of the one Chaldean she missed the most – she wanted so badly to see him, to know he was well and good…
It was when she was about to walk up to them to strike a conversation that Orion's hand on her shoulder distracted her. "All settled! They will be leaving for Thracia in two days," he announced. "Until then, we better have a bit of a sight-seeing tour; what do you reckon?"
She gestured towards the Chaldeans. "Oh – I have something to ask them about…"
Orion looked in the direction she was pointing in and fast as lighting put two and two together. "Yes," he said, "If you're looking for news of your merchant friend, I heard he's back to the usual in Caudiceum. He left Arqa after being released."
"Oh," it made sense, Ophelia thought, that after she was gone he'd be able to go back to business as usual. But it didn't stop the disappointment as she would've liked to think, selfish as she was, that he'd have come to Elysium at some point or another.
Some of her feelings showed in her face, as Orion commented, "mercurial people, these Chaldeans. One can never fully understand their heart."
She let him guide her away from the post and the caravans, seeking comfort in the distraction of their day's itinerary. In the relative lawlessness of east Sophia there was all sorts of colourful enterprises: they'd pass by prostitutes and their johns, discussing their trade under the sun, at an alley corner. Sellers would proudly announce their latest snake oil cure right next to some shack where a miracle man would be waiting in a drunken daze for someone to call on him. Much like certain street corners in London, every now and then they'd come across someone or another proudly shouting about their beliefs, preaching about the immanence of the soul or the duality of the spirit.
Ophelia had never been a religious person; she had never had any thoughts on the nature of her soul or her fate after death. The world was already an incredibly intricate place to figure out for her to worry about transcendental matters. And that the Britain she'd grown up in was fundamentally christian was something she could ignore for the most part: the chapels and the churches and the baptist halls were all background noise to her every day life. And this was possible because deep inside, despite being shaped by it, her country was not necessarily ruled by its religious rituals. This was not so much the case with Elysium, where religion was more intrinsically intertwined with people's every day lives – partly, perhaps, because in the Empire its ruler was considered divine.
This was something quite paradoxical to Ophelia: how can a man of flesh and blood be also considered a god? But for the Elysians divine nature was not altogether separate from the material, and that they were able to experience it so directly, that they were able to consider themselves under its protection simply by virtue of where they were living explained why they were so fervent about their belief. The street preachers claimed all sorts of things, but just like Aegyr and Baron Doria had tirelessly repeated to her, they all agreed that there was one order and that it was decreed by the Emperor, the sole just ruler.
"Enjoy His grace, oh, my brethren, aren't we all so lucky to be under His wing?" claimed one who seemed to be on the verge of falling into song. "Look at the nations around us and see their misery, their poverty, their hunger. Not even the unluckiest amongst us has to endure that level of indignity. Is that not a sign of His grace?"
"And the sign of the times of plenty has arrived," another one shouted. "Our gracious godly emperor has found a new saintess, a new mother to bring eternal prosperity to us! The golden era of Elysium is about to begin!"
Ophelia tried to hide her disgust. "How scary it is to feel other's expectations," she murmured to Orion as they passed the preacher by. "That they make of me a character in their play, it feels almost as if I was divested of my humanity."
Orion had no sympathy to offer. "It is as I said, remember? Whether you like it or not, your steps will always cause earthquakes… such is the price to pay for your aether."
He fixed his gaze on her. "Perhaps Lord Scipio did you no favours with the way he explained the Elysian doctrine. But in its heart, it's exactly this: power conditions the paths you walk. A powerless person cannot rule an empire; that is an oxymoron at best, and at worst it's the sign of the end of history. In the same way, a powerful person will never remain anonymous and unburdened. Power begets responsibilities. That is what we mean when we talk about order."
"Then why are you helping me get away? Shouldn't this be considered a heresy?"
Orion stole a quick kiss from her, leaving a smirk at the edge of her sight when he turned towards the busy street. "I've said it before; if you should consider me a philanthropist, I will be your chaperone. If you should consider me a selfish prick, I will be an opportunist. Either way, I am confident one day you'll understand this as well as I do."
Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "Let's say that at some point I end up agreeing with that; by the time that happens we'll both have grey hairs. Will you not resent trapping me here?"
"No need to be so drastic," he laughed. "I have confidence you'll see it my way sooner rather than later."
Ophelia rolled her eyes, but left the conversation at that. They hiked up one of the hills to catch the colourful sight of the setting sun on Sophia. With its ample gardens and expressive population the city was certainly enchanting, which made it all the more tragic that circumstances had cast such a gloomy shadow over them all. That she saw such an interesting and beautiful place as nothing more than a potential golden cage was regrettable, and she hoped she could one day visit the city with a different disposition.
They made their way back to their inn as the moon slowly rose over the rooftops that covered the hill. The next day, Orion had informed her, should be used to prepare their provisions for their trip. It was clear to Ophelia at that point that the praetorian saw it all as some passing fancy of her; that he would one day escort her back in triumph, having convinced her that her place was there. She had to give it to him that unlike Aegyr, he seemed more at ease with letting her roam free enough so that she'd think her decisions were hers, rather than outright force her to go where she didn't want to go. It was very sneaky, it was very dirty, and perhaps, could've been more effective if she hadn't been as brave as she was. He was a convenient excuse to those who liked to indulge in comfort: she could've allowed him to convince her to stay or go back to Sophia only so that she didn't have to face the world outside on her own. After all, it seemed pretty easy to just go along with what the Elysians wanted of her… but the exciting unknowns of what she had yet to see of Lygeum called to her, and she very much preferred their dangers to the safe, controlled environment that was the empire.
And then, of course, the feeling in the back of her head that something was wrong.
She had her breakfast once again in the morning and they left before noon this time; they had food at the same market as the day before, except this time Orion told her that he needed to briefly meet one of the other praetorians who happened to be in town to relay some information. She left Ophelia to her own devices and asked her to mind her notoriety – no public displays of her aether, and no talking to strangers, lest she "charm some other soul into obeying her wicked will". She did, however, retrace some of the steps of the previous day, and ended passing by some of the open lounges where the mostly male clientele enjoyed the local version of a shisha.
It was there where she found a scene that at first made her think that pleasure district was indeed a name well earned, before she did a double take. From the streets anyone could peer into the open tent-like interiors of those shisha lounges and find groups of men having beer and smoking. There were those who did it by themselves, and those who hired pleasure girls to liven up the atmosphere. It was one of the latter who she thought she'd spotted before the long, silky blond hair of a courtesan and the two women sticking themselves to the only man in the group reminded her of a familiar scene.
She thought about passing by, chiding herself for fantasizing a reunion that would not happen. But then her traitorous eyes strayed, a familiar hazel gaze crossed hers, and she lost her breath.
"Hyperion," she said in a raspy voice as she ran into the lounge. The man had sprung to his feet, forgetting all about his companions, and opening his arms, received her with the biggest hug either of them had enjoyed to that moment.
"Ophelia, darling princess, I knew I would find you here," he said as he pressed his cheek against the top of her head. Ophelia felt the embrace of his scent of myrrh and almost let herself fall: all her anxieties suddenly vanished, all the tension violently snatched away by the presence of the man that comforted her the most. She wished she could stay there for an eternity, her face against that warm chest, feeling like she was finally home.
"I thought you were in Caudiceum," she murmured.
"As soon as it was safe for me to leave Arqa, I embarked to the Empire," he reluctantly let her go, before looking to the party he'd left behind. "Uri," he said to one of the girls. "Take it from here. I ought to catch up with an old friend."
And then he led her inside the lounge, to a small private room in the back. "It was very difficult to hear any news about you that weren't outrageous rumours. But as soon as it was said that the Mystae would be held, I rushed here. I had hoped I would be able to see you…"
Ophelia smiled. "I wonder what is said about me; it will probably make a better story than what actually happened."
"The usual; idle tongues work the same regardless of the nation you're in. The most interesting one, however, was about how you summoned daimones in the Pleroma to scare the officials."
"Ah, that one is partially true. In the boredom of the sail from Arqa we discovered one could make these sort of creatures that seem to look alive and move by themselves. I rather liked doing them quite horrible to the eyes, to get a raise out of people."
Hyperion laughed. "Of course, agent of chaos that you are, that you would do such things in the middle of perfect Elysium. And what about your disappearance? Everything under the sun has been named as its cause."
"Oh – what about falling back in Byzantium?" Hyperion's eyes widened. "Aegyr and I went back to my home city. He decided to stay; I left."
Hyperion's barrage of questions required a more thorough review of the events; gladly, Ophelia recounted her visit to London, the events that led to it, and even her adventures inside the murder mystery house that was Aegyr's Aurelian manor. It was clear that her decision to come back filled him with no small amount of relief: that Aegyr was also safely stowed in that other world also came as a pleasant surprise. The merchant cared very little for his reasons, which Ophelia had tried to talk about in broad terms; as far as he knew, the less he saw of his jailer, the better. "Nefarious that silly man was," he said, "and jealous, so petty that it was almost comical."
"Oh?"
"He came to visit me shortly after you did, simply to warn me not to ever seek you again. He told me that should he hear of my presence in Elysium in the same place where you resided, he'd personally come to dispose of me."
"What did you say to him?"
Hyperion smirked. "I reminded him of a fable well known to those who grew up in the ports on the Atlantean Sea, of a man who fashioned wings out of wax and feathers to fly closer to the sun, enraptured by its beauty. He falls to his death when the warmth of its rays melt the wax, thus destroying his wings."
Ophelia let out a dry laugh. "Icarus! I've heard of a similar myth."
As they finished their catching up, the proposition of what would come next landed on Hyperion's mouth:
"So, what is it that you require now? A boat, a carriage, a single horse? I have all three for you."
During their conversation, something had taken shape slowly and then hardened in the back of her head. Like a clay pot that needed cooking in the oven, she'd slowly given shape to the notion that Orion was a risky gamble, and then had solidified her mistrust into the decision that she needed to do something to escape on her own.
"A praetorian has been accompanying me ever since I arrived," she confessed to Hyperion. "He said he'd help me but I know better than to fully trust him. Even if I do leave Elysium now, he'll make sure I come back at some point."
"Someone else must know about our movements, where we're headed, all that," she continued. "And they're letting us be. But I'm thinking, as we are not far from the border now, that I can simply escape on my own. It'll come as a surprise to him – and I'll lose the Knights and whoever is after me."
"On your own?" Hyperion looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "How so? Have you learnt how to ride a horse?"
"A Byzantine has tricks," she smirked. "I do not need a horse to travel fast. And even if I did, the last thing I want is a repeat of my past mistakes. I'd rather not compromise you; you've put yourself on the line enough for me already."
The Chaldean gently grabbed her hands, a very deep and serious look on his face as he reproached her: "I feel like the Phrygian is speaking to me. Relying on me will never be a mistake, princess; it is a fate I'd share gladly."
Ophelia shook her head. "To all its due; you can wait for me outside of the Empire and we can go elsewhere together."
That seemed to placate him somewhat, but his doubts still retained her for another ten minutes. She caught sight of another, darker, blond mane somewhere in the streets, and decided it was time she returned. "I must go now," she said, stealing another hug from him. "Meet me in Thrace in five days. I will be waiting."
Any qualms he still had seemed to be mollified by that one promise. He tenderly kissed the top of her head and told her not to cause too much trouble, "you must give us the opportunity to keep up with you" he said with a smile.
Ophelia felt reinvigorated after their meeting; it was like the air had been washed after a storm, leaving a clear sky behind. It had been made obvious merely by speaking to Hyperion that she needed to leave Elysium: the chat had awoken a certain longing for what she'd once called home, which was wherever the merchant and his merry band of aides would be. She felt like ages had been spent with someone or another moving her around a chessboard, forcing her to a fate she wasn't fully comfortable with.
She was all smiles with Orion when she reunited with him. She had come to develop a soft spot for him: it was impossible not to, when he was all charisma and wit and the only troublemaker that seemed to break through the rigid social structure of Elysium. But she also had come to learn that he was no revolutionary: he didn't understand what he saw as her wild ways, and even though he made for an interesting companion it was clear that soon it would be imperative for them to part ways. So they spent the rest of the day visiting some more of his favourite spots in the city, venturing slightly into the south side where the merchants and the craftsmen resided, before once again escaping the nightly bustle to go back to their inn.
She didn't quite have the heart to embrace him in her bed and then run away without saying a word, so she gave the eternal I don't feel well excuse for the night, and simply tucked herself away under the sheets. He didn't mind; he rested with her, soon falling asleep holding her in his arms. It was past midnight when she dared to move again – the moon was bright and fiery outside, and cast everything in a silver glow. She saw his peaceful face and felt a bit of remorse about what she was about to do – he looked so unguarded, so innocent that it was impossible to suppress a tender feeling of regret.
Caressing his temples, she did what he'd taught her a few days before, and pushed her aether into him. Seeing that he was asleep it was difficult for her to assess whether it had worked or not, but he did not stir or rise awake when she changed into the robes she'd been wearing during the day, took the bag she'd brought from London, and left the room.
There was no need for her to feign care for stealth after that: she used the flying jump trick to move eastwards, towards one of the many roads that led outside of the city. Thankfully not many people were perusing the sky at that point, and those that did were in a state that made all they witnessed highly debatable to everyone else. She landed soon near the border of the city, feeling winded enough to know she'd need to take an alternative means of transport beyond that. There were no fortifications or gates in Sophia: there was no need to, as the Emperor was enough to defend it; there were, however, posts by the side of the roads at the edge of the city where city guards would check anyone coming through. As she walked closer to them, she caught sight of the stables, and some of the steeds that were resting inside.
An idea struck her. None of the guards were nobles; and so her aether flew smoothly around them, putting each one of them to sleep. Man that she saw was a man that fell unconscious to her feet: there would be no witnesses to her escape, and much less anyone to go after her. She walked into the stables with the swagger of one who owns the place: she chose the first horse she saw, and concentrating on her desire to escape, bent the animal to her will.
It would perhaps beg the question of whether she'd be able to do something similar with a more active intelligence, perhaps like that of another human. She doubted it: it took her considerable effort to get the animal to actually move, even after falling under her spell, and once it did, she felt like any slip of her concentration would make it regain control of itself again. Then she figured out that perhaps she didn't need to snuff out its consciousness entirely; perhaps what she needed to do was to influence it so it would do her commands. She tried that instead and found much better results: almost like she'd become the voice in the back of the horse's head, directing its every move without it realizing where the thought had come from.
She mounted it, and asked it to walk forward. Some tentative steps were followed by more assured ones; almost like it was testing the direction of her words. When she pressed on, it seemed to convince itself of its need to gallop towards wherever she was asking it to go, and soon she found herself holding in for dear life as it trotted forwards.
No one was on the roads except herself. Illuminated by the soft, beautiful glow of the moon, on and on she went to the unknown. Or that's what she had expected, before she found herself falling to the ground covered in the horse's blood. Something had suddenly cut its head cleanly through, sending it bouncing into the middle of the road with a sickening wet sound.
"What-?" she exclaimed before almost three dozen dark figures surrounded her. They had followed her from behind, their horses' galloping hooves making no sound as their rider's aether blocked every stamp on the ground. She'd been so focused on moving her steed forwards that she'd not realized she was being followed – and by such an impressive retinue, the dark blue of their robes turning black by the witching hour. She spotted blurry faces, all of them nobles, Knights, ready to drag her back kicking and screaming if it need be.
"Ah, gentlemen, I'm afraid you've got the wrong person," she said with a nervous smile, looking around the sea of impassive faces. None of them reacted to her words. She was about to try a change of tactics when someone else emerged from the crowd.
"No, no, I am pretty sure they meant to get our lady Ophelia," said a familiar voice. Orion emerged from the wall of blue-black sour-looking figures crowned by his attire, standing out by virtue of its difference in colour and style. Gone were the demure robes she'd left him in, instead dressing himself in a far more grandiose set – with purple and gold making him look like the exulted official he was supposed to be. It wasn't the only thing about his appearance that caught Ophelia's attention – his hair, as well, was down and neatly tucked behind him, almost a polar opposite from the messy buns and ponytails he'd preferred so far.
"Have you decided to betray me?" Ophelia said through gritted teeth.
"You could see it that way; but I'd rather you offer me some of your sympathies and think of it as a change of tactics," he made a gesture to the knights behind him to bring something forward. A box appeared in someone's hands and opened it revealed a pale, blurry white square of something… And as Orion's hands tenderly picked them off its resting place, a pair of Lyre's Tears glinted in the moonlight. "I'm afraid I behave terribly when I'm around you, Ophelia dear; you do the darnedest things and it's difficult for a man like myself to not want to respond in kind."
A chill went down Ophelia's spine – a simple physical reaction to the deep feeling of uneasiness that kept growing. Although not a stickler for etiquette, Orion had always preferred to call her your highness, particularly in front of other people. That he was so purposefully using her name felt like a portent of what was to come.
For a few tense seconds, which had her frozen on the spot, silently watching the other's movements, she thought he'd brought the Tears in the same way that Aegyr had used them as shackles on his wife. But then instead, he brought them up to his ears and fixed them on himself. A soft golden glow illuminated his throat and the sides of his face, much like her own earrings did.
He smiled at her, and she dreaded to hear his next words:
"I guess it's nigh time I introduce myself properly, Ophelia. My name is Aurelius, Emperor of the Elysian empire."