Chapter 7: Chapter 6 – Father

For the fourth consecutive day, Raviel went to the Grand Amphitheater of Massallia. Mel stood behind him, attentive to everything around them. He had made the choice not to take Aster. The rumors were already going wild. There was no need to add more to it. And he doubted Aster would appreciate the spectacle unfolding before their eyes.

Raviel just stared blankly at the crowd, trying to ignore the screams that filled his ears and pounded his skull. Blood had flown for a long time this afternoon, following the staging of one of the great victories of the Massallian Empire, and the public had only become more hysterical. It sickened him.

“Rufus is coming,” Mel whispered to the young man.

Raviel turned to look at the patrician. He didn't wear the hypocritical smile he displayed when they last met.

"So that's what you were up to!"

Raviel took his time getting up and facing him.

“Hello, Rufus,” he replied coldly.

He narrowed his eyes in displeasure.

“Buying a gladiator in such a way… Is there no limit to your shameless actions?”

“Don't tell me you've never bought a slave. I won't believe it.”

"Certainly not during the games!" Rufus said angrily.

Raviel smirked slightly. Around them, the crowd paid the two no attention and remained just as agitated.

“So it's the only thing that bothers you?”

“You are playing a dangerous game,” Rufus hissed.

A fierce gleam suddenly animated Raviel's usual impassive gaze.

"Perhaps it wouldn't be if people leave me alone!"

Rufus chuckled.

“With everything that's happened, it's only natural to watch you. You taint our caste enough already!”

"It has nothing to do with it," Raviel said. “I've been watched for years!”

Since everyone knew he had no Gift, he had become the disgrace of the patricians. Rufus closed the distance between them with a contemptuous expression on his face.

“For a good reason. You better be careful and not act up too much.”

“Master!”

Rufus turned abruptly towards the young slave who had just called him.

“The Emperor is requesting your presence.”

A strange smile appeared on Rufus' lips as if he knew something the others didn't. He nodded before turning around, about to leave.

“The Emperor won't save you forever. Beware… Without Gift, you won't survive long if you don't have protection.” He said to Raviel, with a sly air.

Raviel became pale, and he felt a sharp pain in his head. He barely felt his knees hit the ground, and Rufus' last words came through the thick fog of his vision.

“Mad man…” Rufus said.

The images surged through Raviel’s mind with force.

“Master!”

He snapped back to reality, his breath short. Mel had knelt beside him but dared not touch him. With Raviel being deprived of his bearings, this would only accentuate the anguish he was feeling at this moment.

"Mel," he muttered uneasily.

A shroud. He had glimpsed a shroud but found himself unable to determine to whom it belonged. His? The Emperor's? Did it have anything to do with Rufus' words? He had to warn Valens in any case.

“Let's go back.”

He felt exhausted.

***

"Quit daydreaming!"

Surprised, Aster suddenly looked up at Nerilla, who was examining him with a stern look. It must have been a good two hours since she had dragged him into the kitchen, but Aster couldn't manage to take an interest in all her explanations. His thoughts kept leading him to other matters.

“You do not listen to a word of what I'm trying to explain. Dinner is not going to cook itself!”

“I thought Raviel bought me to protect him, not to cook his meals,” he replied, gritting his teeth.

Nerilla nudged him with a wooden spoon on the arm.

“You look like a disaster in the kitchen.”

“Let's just say that's not exactly what I've been asked to do for the past few years.”

"The vegetable garden might suit you better," she continued. “Your physical abilities will be more useful there.”

“If you had offered it to me right away, I could have told you that I know how to take care of a vegetable garden,” Aster retorted.

Nerilla looked frankly amused, but the young man didn't see it.

"Go and find Rogis, he'll tell you what to do."

Aster gave her a wide smile, happy to be able to go out. He wasted no time reaching the vast garden and found Rogis there. The latter was busy pruning a plant. He lifted his head when he heard him coming, and his eyes lit up.

“Aster! That’s a surprise, are you a poor cook?”

Aster pouted, and Rogis chuckled.

“Don't worry, few people find favor in Nerilla's eyes when it comes to cooking. Come help me prune these plants!”

Aster joined him in a few strides and grabbed the pair of long scissors that Rogis handed him. He watched him for a few moments before getting to work. He realized that the movements came back to him quite naturally, and a sweet nostalgia came over him when he thought of the little vegetable patch behind his childhood home.

"Change can't be easy, but life is generally pretty good here," Rogis said suddenly.

Aster took a moment before answering:

“Change is not hard in itself. It is even rather easy so far as the life of a gladiator is particularly taxing, and death is never far away. But…”

He searched for his words hesitantly.

“I want my life back. I can't stand being subject to another person's whim, knowing that they can choose to do what they want with me. I want to regain the freedom that was stolen from me.”

“I understand. For now, this life suits me, but there will probably come a day when it will no longer be the case. Unfortunately, I don't depend on Raviel, but on his father, even if he is often absent.”

Aster cast a puzzled look at him.

"Why is he often absent?"

Astonishment briefly crossed Rogis's face.

“Raviel's father is one of the greatest generals in the Massallian army.”

Aster widened his eyes and momentarily forgot what he was doing. He suspected that Raviel’s family was powerful but not so powerful.

“That's why he missed the start of the games. He should be back in the next few days.”

Aster nodded thoughtfully and continued his task in silence. After a moment, Rogis spoke again.

“When Raviel's father returns, please don't upset him.”

Aster frowned and turned to Rogis.

"Why tell me that? I know how to behave.”

“Maybe so, but you seem rather fierce, and it will not please him. Alas, when something does not please him, it tends to fall on Raviel.”

Aster nodded without a word. It wasn't the first time he had heard this. Mel had also mentioned it to him.

"Yesterday, what happened when you came to pick up Raviel? Why did he come back in bad shape?”

"You're the curious type, aren't you?" Rogis replied with a smirk. “But if Raviel didn't explain anything to you, it's not for me to tell. You will know soon enough.”

Aster wiped his forehead with his arm, accepting the answer without flinching. The sun seemed scorching, and the heat was becoming unbearable. However, he continued his task without fail. The light warm breeze was not unpleasant, and working in the open air did him good. It reminded him of his village.

The minutes passed, then these turned into hours, as the sun slowly began its downward curve in the sky. Beside him, Rogis was bustling about efficiently, and Aster found himself enjoying the moment.

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“To think that I had asked Nerilla to give you time for your leg to heal,” an amused voice said behind him.

Aster and Rogis both turned around to see Raviel approaching, wearing a simple white tunic belted at the waist and stopping above his knee.

"Master!" Rogis exclaimed cheerfully. “You came back earlier than usual!”

"I took the liberty of leaving the Grand Amphitheater before the end of the day," Raviel explained.

Aster saw a strange gleam in his grey eyes but preferred to act as if nothing had happened.

“I'm not going to collapse,” the gladiator replied.

“I’m happy to hear that. The day is not over. What else needs to be done?” Raviel asked Rogis.

“We still have to prune the plants near the apple tree.”

“Perfect, I'll take care of it.”

Under the astonished gaze of Aster and the amused one by Rogis, he grabbed a long pair of scissors similar to the ones they were holding and walked away in the direction of the apple tree.

“He often does that when he needs to take his mind off things. When no one is here to bother him…” Rogis explained.

Raviel raised his head, a smile on the corners of his lips.

“If you want to join Mel, you can. I believe she is helping Nerilla in the kitchen.” Raviel said to Rogis.

Aster looked at Rogis with surprise. The latter had blushed slightly, but he nodded and stood up. The silence fell softly as he walked away, broken only by the sound of scissors cutting through dried leaves. After a while, Aster slid a puzzled look over to Raviel. He was busy, looking concentrated. Yet he seemed tired, preoccupied. Feeling stared, he turned his head towards Aster. He seemed to want to say something, but rushing footsteps stopped him.

“Raviel!”

Mel stopped near the vegetable garden, out of breath. Anxiety twisted her belly so much that she naturally used the patrician's first name to address him, forgetting Aster's presence. Raviel got up immediately, dropping the scissors to the ground.

“Your father came back.”

Raviel turned pale. From the vegetable garden, relatively far from the entrance to the villa, he had heard nothing.

"I'll welcome him," he replied anxiously.

Aster was sure his hands were shaking slightly. Raviel suddenly turned to him.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “Don't leave this garden for any reason until I send someone to get you.”

Aster nodded, too surprised to reply. And Raviel strode towards the villa, followed by Mel. His fingernails dug into his palms. He didn't think his father would be back so soon.

“Raviel…”

"It'll be fine. Can you... Can you not walk away too far, please?”

"Of course," Mel replied gently.

He gave her a grateful smile that disappeared when they reached the entrance to the villa. Rogis was busy unsaddling his father's horse and gave them a sympathetic grin. The news didn't please him either. Raviel opened the door of the house. Agitation already reigned on all sides.

He slowly made his way to the place, where he had spent much of the night ensuring that the management of his family's many properties was in order. It was the master's room. His father was certainly there.

He took a deep breath and entered without a sound. Magnus had his back to the entrance and seemed to be paying particular attention to a document lying flat on the large wooden desk.

“Hello, father.”

Raviel cursed the slight tremors in his voice as Magnus spun around. Like Valens, his short hair now took on a salt-and-pepper hue. Like Cecilia, small wrinkles appeared at the corners of his dark eyes. But everything about his posture was a reminder that he was one of the greatest generals in the Massallian army. He stood straight, and his military uniform seemed to have been tailor-made, especially the black breastplate with the broad shoulder pads.

“Did you have a good trip?”

Magnus crossed the room in a few strides and delivered a resounding slap to his son. With tears in his eyes from the violence of the blow, Raviel took a few moments to raise his head.

"Did you really think that I wouldn't know what you did in my absence?" He hissed. “May I know what took you to act like this?”

"I didn't feel safe anymore," Raviel whispered.

A second slap shut him up. This time it took Magnus roughly grabbing his chin for the young man to lift his head. A metallic taste invaded his mouth. His father's strength had absolutely nothing to do with his mother's.

"And of course, you had to buy one of the best gladiators from the school at the start of the games…"

Raviel only planted his clear gaze into Magnus' much darker one. His cheekbone bore the marks of his father's successive blows, and his lower lip had ended up splitting from the repeated shocks.

“Will you never cease to shame this family?”

Magnus threw him violently against the desk, and Raviel gritted his teeth to hold back a complaint. The pain shot through his stomach, which had hit the edge of the cabinet and was taking his breath away.

“And besides, may I know with what money you bought him?”

Raviel sat up, breathing irregularly and with tears in his eyes.

"With what money, Raviel?" Magnus exclaimed.

"The one given to me by the Emperor," he murmured.

This time, he couldn't suppress a painful groan as his father smashed his face against the wooden surface, roughing up his silver hair in the process. He had barely had time to turn his head away slightly, and his damaged cheekbone had taken all the shock.

"Don't tell me you went to beg him!"

Magnus looked furious. Raviel slowly turned to face him as the grip on his hair loosened.

“No, this…”

He suddenly stopped. His father had just hit him with the back of his hand.

"Is it still related to your so-called visions?"

Raviel didn't turn his head away. A gleam of defiance was dancing in the back of his eyes, but when his father approached, he couldn't help but cringe violently. His back bumped into the furniture behind him.

***

Mel bit her lip violently. True to her promise, she waited in the nearby atrium, wringing her hands nervously. An eternity seemed to have passed when finally Magnus strode out of the room. He gave her a dark look, and she stiffened.

“Take him to his room,” he ordered coldly.

Mel nodded quickly and did not wait any longer to rush into the room. Raviel was kneeling, his shoulder pressed against the wooden desk. When Mel approached him, he raised his head slightly, and she could see his painful expression.

"Can you get up?"

"Yes," he said in a voice so low Mel could barely hear him.

He did, but a muffled moan escaped him. He would have probably collapsed without the welcome support offered by Mel. Fortunately, Raviel was light. With difficulty, they returned to his room. Raviel fell on his bed, short of breath. Mel went to the small table installed in a corner of the room and opened the box that was placed there.

“There's still a little of the ointment Lana brought you, but you'll have to think about asking her for more when she comes.”

Raviel nodded wordlessly, and Mel grimaced at the sight of his crimson cheekbone and split lip.

“How do you feel?” She asked, running her balm-smeared fingers over his cheek.

“I've had worse, don't worry.”

He gave her a smile that was meant to be reassuring.

"I thought I was getting off lightly," he added.

Mel pouted but did not reply. She knew Raviel was telling the truth. When she wanted to apply the balm to her lip, the young man hissed in pain, and his fingers tightened suddenly on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's nothing, go on," he replied, his jaw clenched.

His mother's beatings were actually more painful psychologically than physically. Those of his father linked these two aspects perfectly, especially since his formidable strength was accentuated by his Gift.

“Please don't say anything to Aster.”

"It wouldn't hurt him to be aware of that, though," Mel retorted.

Raviel gave a vaguely amused smile.

“He'll find out sooner or later, you know,” she said.

“I know ... But the later the better. He doesn't need to know now.”

Mel accepted with a slight nod, and a heavy silence fell over the room.

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