Duty

Chapter 87 Peace and quiet

Commotion. That was the first thing that registered in his brain before he had even opened his eyes. Something was going on, and it wasn't the usual bustling of an army camp.

Darius was on his feet within the second and grabbed the sword he always kept within reach. At the entrance of his tent, he paused a moment to assert the situation and then he stepped out.

There was fighting going on withing the camp. How was this possible? Had the troops at the border all fallen? Was Balor invading?

"My king," one of his soldiers dropped to one knee in front of him, looking stressed. "there are Balor warriors in the camp, my king. They have disguised themselves as our soldiers by stealing the armor of our fallen, and managed to slip through our defenses. We are trying to detain them, but unfortunately several of our guards have been slain already before we realized what was happening."

Darius gritted his teeth. It really was one thing after another. But there wasn't much they could do against it now except fight back.

"All men to arms!" Darius declared, "form close ranks! You know your brethren! You have fought beside them all this time! Work together once more and take down the enemy once and for all!" He turned to the soldier that was still in front of him. "Do we have any idea about their numbers? How many have infiltrated?"

"Not yet, Your Majesty."

Darius nodded. "We'll make due then." He swung his sword around and headed into the fray. There was no time to strategize. He did not know where Torcan was. All he could do was fight. It would end here, one way or the other.

...

When Vara entered Cyrus' room, she found him exactly how she had left him last time; sprawled out on the bed with a goblet within reach. On the table was a plate with untouched food.

She sighed. "Cyrus."

Cyrus only slightly turned his head to look at her. He seemed drunk. "They send you again to check on me?" he asked, "do they think I'll spill my soul to you?"

Vara scrunched her nose. "Perhaps they think you'll spill the entire country's stock of wine. How much did you drink today? You stink. Sober up and go to the bathhouse."

Cyrus scowled. "Do you know where you won't smell me? On the other side of the door."

"How very mature," Vara cast back, "do you think I want to be here? At least show up at the evening meal tomorrow. Think about Lucius at least."

"He will be fine," Cyrus sighed, "he's hurting now, but in a few days he'll be back to normal."

"Like you were?" Vara bit at him. She had hoped at least that would draw a reaction from hm. Anger would still be better than this lethargy. But the most she received from him was cold silence. She knew she had hurt him. She knew how much he had loved his mother. He should be able to understand how his son was feeling now. It was like he didn't even care. "Cyrus!" she scolded.

Now he did react, though it was still not the reaction she had been after. He turned towards her fully and hoisted himself in a sitting position, though he grabbed his head in pain from the motion. "Stop nagging at me, Vara," he growled, "if you don't want to be here, go home. Go wait for Iason to return from the war." He reached for the wine goblet.

Vara reached it first and drank it instead.

She immediately pulled a face at the strong taste of spiced wine. Cyrus had always loved the heavier wines. They usually gave her a headache.

She put the goblet down and narrowed her eyes at him. "I care about you, Cyrus. And I'm worried. I don't want to leave you here like this. If you want to grieve, that's fine, but grieve with the rest of the family. Grieve with your son. Don't lock yourself up in this dark hole. Or do you want to lose him too?"