“Ahh… you see… it’s funny, really!” Damian giggled. “Some of us think that she chose you because of the way you look.”
“The way I… wait, what?”
“Well…” Damian attempted to stop laughing, but couldn’t seem to do so. “Even back then, you looked a lot like her, right? And Celeste, she was a little vain…”
“… that’s… that’s not…!” Catalin sputtered. “She can’t do that, right? She can’t! If that was her rationale, that makes this whole thing invalid, right? You can’t pick someone for a job like that just because they share some of the same features as you!”
“Oh, we don’t actually know that for sure,” Damian assured him. “For all we know, she had very good reasons!”
“Whatever the reason,” Catalin growled, “have you noticed? The war’s over. We lost.”
“Nothing’s over, Cat.” Damian’s grin widened. “The war never even began.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Catalin said, wanting his hands freed immediately so he could shake some sense into the younger boy. “Even if we are Imperial Guardians, we don’t have anyone to serve. Gwendolyn Doyle didn’t have any children.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
“I think she would have said something if she had a child,” Catalin scoffed.
“Well, that would have been silly,” Damian said. “They were on the brink of war… to announce that you have an heir who’s completely incapable of defending themselves is like… I dunno, telling people you have free cake at your house!”
“So, what, you’re saying she had a secret kid?”
“Not really ‘secret,’” Damian said slowly. “Just… one she didn’t mention! Her Highness wasn’t even a year old when Myrrh was overthrown, anyway.”
“Her Highness,” Catalin repeated. “A girl, then?”
“Yep!” Damian sang. “I really think you’ll like her! She’s so cute!” Somehow, the way Damian said it made Catalin think that he’d find a giant mutated squid adorable.
Catalin paused for a moment, thinking carefully about a way to phrase his next remark without including the words ‘you’re a psycho.’ “Listen. Damian, was it? I’m sure you’ve got a great little operation going here, and for what it’s worth, I wish you all the best. Godspeed and all that. But I think I’ll sit it out.” He shrugged. “So you can take that pendant and find someone more qualified. That works best for both of us, right?”
Damian made a low humming sound, as if pondering Catalin’s request. “Are you at all familiar with Ancient Law, Cat?”
“Not overly,” Catalin responded.
“Then I don’t know if you’d know this!” Damian withdrew the knife he’d held to Catalin’s throat from its hilt. “But for an Imperial Guardian to vacate his post makes him a deserter. And deserters are bound by law to take their own lives.”
“… I’m going to pass on that,” Catalin said weakly, pushing himself away from Damian.
“That’s just fine!” Damian laughed, twirling the knife. “But in that case, I’ll have to be the one to take it for you!”
“Okay! Okay! Fine!” Catalin yelped. “I’ll come with you! Put that thing away!”
“… really?” Damian’s face lit up again, and the knife disappeared back into the hilt. “You really will?”
“… yes,” Catalin said, slumping against the wall. “Really.”
“Oh, Cat! I’m so glad!” Damian bounded across the room and yanked Catalin into a hug, reminding him once again just how hard he’d hit the water earlier.
As he was further manhandled by Damian, Catalin discreetly rolled his eyes, thinking, As if I’d cooperate with this insanity. Whoever Damian was, he may have had some skill, but he couldn’t watch Catalin forever. Catalin would wait for his opening, and get as far away from there as possible.
“Aww, you two are getting along already?”
Catalin jumped as the new, female voice entered the room, and he squirmed out of Damian’s grip to get a better look at the newcomer. Two newcomers, actually.
The speaker looked older than Catalin by a few years, maybe in her early twenties, and she was wearing an almost illogically short skirt. If her long, dark hair was any indication, she was no commoner, but Catalin had never seen her at any of the Unification Day ceremonies. She did look oddly familiar, though.
The man that stood behind her was so tall that he had to duck to get into the shack. He looked middle-aged, was quite dark-skinned, and had a certain air about him that could have been imposing if he so desired it. But as it was, he was smiling.
“Victor! Saphie!” Damian waved enthusiastically. “I got him!”
The woman – she must have been the “Saphie” Damian mentioned – looked surprised. “Wow… you actually pulled it off, huh?”
