Chapter 6: Chapter 5 – Gift

Raviel gently pushed open the front door of the villa. He had put together a pleasant face, but his heart still felt painfully tight. He barely had time to take a few steps in the atrium when Mel came to meet him. When she saw him, her eyes widened slightly.

"Is it so terrible?" Raviel asked wearily.

Mel recovered quickly, but the concern did not leave her eyes.

“No, but I know you. What happened?”

They were alone, so she could freely talk to him casually.

"She didn't appreciate that my father wasn't home yet," Raviel whispered.

Mel was about to answer him, but he raised a hand to stop her.

“Don't worry; I'm fine.”

Mel doubted it, but she didn't insist.

"Where's Aster?"

"In the second atrium," she replied, scowling slightly.

Raviel gave her a puzzled look.

“You seem unhappy... What happened?”

“Nothing,” she muttered.

She left in the direction of the kitchen, looking frankly annoyed. Raviel had an amused smile, before heading towards the second atrium. Aster was sitting at the edge of the pool, his eyes lost in space.

"So what did you do to annoy Mel like that?"

Aster turned and glared at him without answering. However, a glimmer of astonishment crossed his face when he discovered Raviel, simply dressed in a tunic belted at the waist, which revealed his slim figure. He looked tired, and one of his hands was perhaps a little too tight on his arm. Aster frowned, but Raviel interrupted his train of thought.

"Would you like me to show you your room?"

“My room?” Aster repeated.

“Your room,” Raviel confirmed.

He led the gladiator to a room towards the back of the atrium, relatively close to those reserved for slaves. It wasn't very big, but the wide opening in the wall flooded it with light. The layout was very simple. A bed, with its finely decorated headboard leaning against the wall, took up much of the space. A white, silky sheet on which the sun's rays washed ashore covered the mattress. A large chest was placed on the floor, under the window. In one corner, a table with delicately carved legs took its place. A few objects lay there, including a small box and a vase filled with freshly cut flowers.

"I sleep here," said Raviel softly. “Come.”

Part of the wall seemed to house an opening, hidden behind a large curtain. Raviel slid it aside, revealing a second, smaller room. There was only one bunk, lying on the floor, but thick enough to look comfortable. A bronze basin sat next to it and a chest leaning against the opposite wall, where a small opening let in the sunlight.

"Does that suit you?" Raviel asked.

Aster suddenly turned to him, looking at the young man suspiciously.

"Why give me a room when all the slaves in this house sleep together? And why did you come looking for me all the way to the gladiator school? What exactly do you expect from me?”

Mordax's words remained in his memory, and Raviel's actions seemed too obscure for him not to be suspicious.

“I told you. I expect you to protect me. When I think I no longer need this protection, I will set you free.”

"And do you often entrust your protection to someone you know nothing about?" Aster replied.

Raviel was silent for a moment. His hand tightened around his arm, and Aster realized that he was now close enough to see the blue marks that Raviel couldn't quite hide.

“I saw you fight,” he finally answered. “Your talent is undeniable.”

“I'm not talking about that. Nothing assures you that I will use my talent to protect you. Why won't I turn my back on you at the first danger and run away?”

“Will you do that?”

Aster looked at him defiantly, his arms crossed on his chest, and Raviel held his gaze without blinking.

"If I die, my father will inherit all power over you," he said slowly. “It’s something I don't wish for you. Therefore, it’s in your interest that I live until the day I set you free.”

"And may I know when that day will come?"

"I don't know," Raviel admitted.

Aster frowned.

"So you fear so much for your life?"

“Fear is a big word. But I have many enemies just waiting to see me disappear.”

Raviel was about to go back to his room, but Aster stood in his way, determined to get more answers. Raviel glared at him but froze.

“Why?” Aster asked.

Raviel seemed to hesitate.

"What do you know about magic?" He asked suddenly.

Aster was surprised by his particularly abrupt question.

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“I know what is whispered on everyone's lips. That the Massallians have powers beyond belief, that these have enabled them to conquer half the world.”

“That's relatively fair. For centuries, part of the Massallian people has been born with special powers. We call these Gifts.”

Aster had slightly lowered his guard, listening to Raviel curiously.

“Simply put, all patricians have a Gift. It is also found among plebeians, but it is not as common. The Gifts derive from the gods we worship, so we consider them sacred. Without being gods, those who possess them no longer have anything to do with ordinary men. That's why the Emperor and the patrician families are so powerful, and that's also why no one dares question this order,” he added with a grimace.

“And you…”

Aster left his sentence hanging, unable to know how to finish it, and Raviel looked at him sadly.

“I don't have a Gift, Aster.”

He inhaled briefly.

“My existence is considered heresy by the majority of patricians. For many of them, I should not have the right to live.”

Outside, the sun continued its downward curve in the sky. One of its last rays suddenly lit up the small room, crashing into Raviel’s hair and grey eyes. They were still staring at Aster, lit by that unreal tint.

“My life hangs by a thread.”

This time, Raviel took a couple of steps, forcing Aster to step aside.

“If I give you this room, it's because sometimes I have to go out urgently in the middle of the night. It's easier for me to have you right next to me.” He added before leaving.

***

Aster kept tossing and turning on his bunk. Despite the fatigue accumulated during the day, he couldn't sleep at all. He slept little anyway and was always a light sleeper. So he let his gaze wander through the small opening in the wall. The light of the moon diffused gently in his room, and only the rustle of the wind disturbed the peace of the place. A quietness that he was far from feeling in his heart.

Too many things escaped him. For two years, he had been trying to survive in this world that was not his. He nourished fierce anger and resentment towards the people who had taken everything from him. His family, his life, his freedom… The place where he had grown up and to which all his memory was attached… Everything had evaporated in a cloud of flames, ashes, and blood, leaving him only this insatiable hatred. This hatred could not erase the pain rooted in his soul.

He had struggled, but his chains had never broken. He had fought, taking the blows, drawing blood. He had killed, and the whispers of the dead never left him. Like the ghosts of his people that kept haunting him.

All that was left was hope, evanescent as it was. So thin that he dreaded seeing it fade away and disappear at any moment. But the arrival of Raviel had revived this sweet flame. Aster was no longer a prisoner of the gladiator school. His prison wasn't really one anymore. He slept in a room without bars.

He did not understand the Massallians, so hungry for blood and violence that they made a spectacle of death and enslaved all who stood in their way. He also didn't understand Raviel, who seemed so different from his peers. Who seemed to be aware of the value of a person’s life. He had started by giving him back his name, which Aster had been deprived of for so long in favor of a ridiculous nickname. He had also offered him some form of privacy.

Aster was no longer so sure of what he had told Mel. Perhaps it was because of the pain he had glimpsed in the strange grey irises. Or because of the bruises that mysteriously appeared on his arms. Or even because he couldn't help but believe in the sincerity he saw on Raviel's face when he claimed to free him one day.

Aster sighed. Why had Raviel come to fetch him? Was it just a need for protection? Or was he hiding something else? He couldn't figure it out. He believed Raviel when he said he had many enemies because it clarified Mordax's attitude towards him. But he had a strange feeling he couldn't explain himself.

Unable to stand it any longer, he stood up. He wasn't planning on running away tonight. His injured leg wouldn't help, but he needed some air. He gently parted the thick curtain that separated him from Raviel's room. Despite the late hour, the bed was still intact. Aster frowned slightly and crossed the room to the atrium. Far from being plunged into darkness, it was bathed in the glow of the stars, which was reflected on the white stone and the shiny surface of the water. Not a sound seemed to disturb the tranquility of the place.

A ray of light in the first atrium caught his attention. He walked there silently. One of the rooms seemed to be lit by the flame of a candlestick. Aster took a curious look inside the room. This was empty. A large desk took place in the center, on which many sheets of parchment were spread out. Was Raviel working so late?

Aster moved aside and took several steps towards the front door which he opened without a sound. The cool air hit him hard, and he took a deep breath. It was nice. It had been ages since he had been able to do so. He walked away from the house, leaving the dirt road to enjoy the coolness of the grass.

He stopped abruptly. Only a few feet away, Raviel was sitting on the floor. The moonbeams gently caressed his silver hair, giving it that strange unearthly hue. He no longer looked like a man, but like one of those spirits of nature that populated the beliefs of his people.

When he heard him approach, Raviel turned his head towards him, but Aster was sure he had put on a mask. He stood up, running a hand over his tunic to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Don't get used to it," he said softly. “When my father returns, night walks will no longer be permitted.”

Aster frowned.

“Why?”

Raviel let out a short sigh.

"To better control what's going on in his house, I suppose."

He walked past Aster silently. The latter followed him with his gaze. Raviel obviously trusted him enough to allow him to be out alone in the middle of the night.

“Wait!”

Raviel stopped and half turned around.

“I don’t you mind you talking to me casually when we’re alone, but please be more mindful when people are around,” The young patrician said.

Aster was so surprised that he forgot to answer for a moment. He had never heard of a slave being able to use familiar terms with his master.

"The bruises on… your arms… where did they come from?"

“Oh ... It's nothing.”

He ran a hand over his arm.

“Am I not supposed to protect you? Isn't that the reason for my presence in this place?”

Aster's voice echoed softly around them, and Raviel lifted his head to meet his gaze.

"You'll also have to accept the fact that you can't protect me from everything."

He smiled at him as the breeze swept through the garden.

“Goodnight, Aster.”

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