Chapter 228: Guilt

Augustus held the silence, letting the emotions of the people settle in. It was likely that everyone in the room didn’t even know those laid to rest, but his words appealed to something more. A belief in their own righteousness and a disgust for Cras. "What must we do?" He finally spoke, seeing enough people drawn in. "Time and time again, we have offered wheat. Every time we tried to show mercy the way the Lord offers it, they spat in our faces. And now, our people, our good and noble people. Those who wish to make an honest living, those who are like me and you. They had families, dreams and ambitions. And now." Augustus took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting a silence fall upon everyone.

Isis peeked around. Some, those who were likely more religious, closed their eyes and bowed their heads, saying soundless prayers. Others simply sat staring at Augustus, with anger, the speech rousing their emotions even further. Once more, Isis was confused by the strangeness of Danmor. It was a city-state that thrived on trade. If the stories were true, nearly everyone who lived in it was a descendant of slaves of the Old Kingdom. By all standards, it didn’t make sense for them to have such a strong identity for Danmor, like the Hills or Desert of Veston. Yet more than enough people did, despite having no original culture of their own, rather the stitched fragments of numerous others.

’Well, I guess it’s a culture in and of itself.’ Shaking her head, she looked to Augustus. The religious side of things, even if she didn’t like or understand how anyone could believe, made sense to rally behind at least.

"They can never strive for what they wished for. They can never see their families again. Cras has done what it always does. Stripped these people of the joys, the hardship, the beauty of life. Only this time." Augustus climbed down the steps and placed his hand on the middle coffin, the one of the man wearing the golden mask. "We do not have the opportunity to save them."

Isis turned her head and covered her mouth, quickly lowering her head so no one could see her eyes. To others, it may have seemed like she was crying, with her shoulders bouncing occasionally, but behind her hand, her lips curled into a smile that suppressed the laugh trying to escape her lips.

’People honestly believe all this?’ The sound of choked-back tears and stifled breaths was enough of an answer, and Isis took a few deep breaths to finally calm herself down. Looking back at Augustus, she stifled another laugh. ’He really can use anything to further his goals. God, if he were in Veston, he could probably start a revolt amongst the common folk. Although he probably would never go near them.’

"My people. My fellow servants of the Lord, my brothers and sisters of Danmor. I am asking you: can we sit back and allow Cras to violate us? We have already called for blood once, but they were the first to spill it." Slamming his fist on the edge of the coffin, he looked around. "It was Danmor who led the rebellion against the Old Kingdom. It was Danmor who stayed true to Lord’s teachings. What right does Cras have to kill one of us? A city created from the ruins of a prison. A place founded by criminals. It is clear that no matter how much time passes, change is not possible without a heavy hand to guide. Even now, they cling to their animalistic ways that dominated when it was a prison of the Old Kingdom."

Augustus took a deep breath and turned, climbing back up the steps to stand before the statue of his god. "And the animal has gone rabid." Even if he spoke quietly, his words carried themselves around the Pantheon, making everyone hear. "A rabid animal must be put down, for the protection of the rest." Spinning, he looked back at the crowd. The warm smile he usually wore when preaching was gone, replaced by a cold look. It was strange for what should have been a time of worship, but Isis could see and feel the effect when placed next to the five corpses.

People tried to rise, and applause only stopped because of the lingering morbid atmosphere. Others leaned forward, carefully weighing the pros and cons of the war, the merchants’ eyes never truly leaving. Some imagined themselves fighting for their god, or fighting for glory. It didn’t matter the reason; the emotions were all the same from what she saw. Willingness to fight.

Augustus looked around. He didn’t nod, but his eyes told he was happy with the result. With a deep breath and a blink, his cold gaze vanished, replaced by a sad one. "The horrors of Cras were made clear to us all a month ago." The sudden change of atmosphere pulled people deeper in. Looking to Isis, he held his hand out, and she knew it was the cue. Squeezing her fists, she closed her eyes, dreading the thought of having to perform again. But she knew it had to happen and that delaying would be bad for her.

Opening her eyes and revealing her bright blue eyes, she wore the mask of an emotional victim, reliving her trauma. Her mind stayed empty, only thinking of the saddest stories she had heard from others in her journal as she stepped forward to go to Augustus’ side. "Our dear Lady." Augustus continued once she took her place, "Our dear survivor is but one of many whom we can liberate." Turning his head, Isis grabbed the end of her dress in rage, unable to stand such emotion from him. "This war we must fight isn’t born from pride. It isn’t a war to proclaim our superiority over others. No. This war." As if feeling heavy emotion, he turned his head before carrying on, "This war is a war for vengeance. This war is a war to liberate. This war is a war to spread the divine truth." Augustus stayed silent for a moment and turned to Isis. "My dear. Please. Let them hear your story."

’Let them hear my story.’ It took everything not to grind her teeth and scream. She had no stories that could match a true victim of that place. ’Not mine. Theirs. I will not use another one of their stories as my own again.’

Her grip loosened on the edge of her dress, and with a shaking breath she opened her eyes and looked out at the crowd. "Everyone has heard my story." Her voice was soft. "But the others. No one knows their stories. I remember." Thinking back to everything she had seen in Cras, her gaze hardened. "Us all being reduced to numbers. We couldn’t have names nor friends. To be watched all day, every day. And... and..." Thinking of the crystal tower, where all those were re-educated, she vividly recalled Teja’s fears when she had dammned her to suffer in there again. The sights when she entered and saw what they did there, their product. The systematic method of breaking and stripping what made a person a person.

Within her mind, that echoing dripping of water from the ceiling, as it landed on the woman’s forehead, resounded in her mind. The mirror room where a man in grey, wearing a mask, was forced to sit listening to sounds that invaded and broke the mind until there was nothing left to break, only able to see themselves without a face.

’What did I do to Teja? Why did I do that? I didn’t know.’

Her eyes watered. "It is hell." There was no other way to say what those people would have experienced without living it. Shaking her head, she walked back down the steps, feeling her legs go weak as her mind continued to picture Teja being forced into every conceivable punishment possible that would never leave a scar. The worst thing was, she knew that whatever she thought of was likely tame for the re-education tower.

’What did I do to her? I just wanted to write. What am I doing here? No, no, I chose this. I can’t cry now. I chose this. FUCK! Why? Because I was scared. What I did to her was far worse.’ Falling into her hands, she felt the cold touch she was all too familiar with land on her shoulder. Her gaze darted to the side to see Justinian looking down at her with a thin smile. To anyone who observed it, it may have felt like he tried to reassure her, but for her it was something entirely different.

A horrid smile, a disgustingly calm smile, but it also terrified her, because she couldn’t understand what he was thinking yet knew what he could do. With a firm squeeze, his cold touch pierced her clothing, as if marking her.

Turning away, she stared ahead at the coffins, able to feel hundreds of gazes on her back. Before her, Augustus wept beautiful tears, leaving her unsure if they were real or fake. Falling into her hands, the thoughts of Teja flooded her mind again.

’I deserve this. I’m sorry.’