Nintu: The Masters of Destiny and the Salvation of the Empire

Are you feeling well?

You are aware that the way you have been treating her has not been at all the right one.

She, with naïve love, kissed your back and stroked your hair expecting you to change your attitude.

No, you could not and cannot.

You keep that serious expression on your face. You try to convince yourself that everything is justified by what you experienced and witnessed during the expedition.

She held on to you for the entire journey until you reached Anko, the capital of Afriki, in the faint hope that you would turn around and throw yourself at her in an act of carnal love.

Instead, you played the stranger.

 ◇◆◇

The sun was already hiding on the horizon.

The sky was clouding over and the birds were already flying to their nests.

The mud was splashed by the hard and fast riding of the horse.

His rider's breathing was tense, as if he felt the weight of determination, worry, and remorse on his shoulders.

House of the Cynther, Raecum, Oriens

Penultimate month of 575

He had left without even saying goodbye, and only now he was showing up, a day later.

With his trembling hand he carefully opened the door.

A shiver ran through his body as he saw Nazly sitting on the couch.

So as not to wake her, he closed the door slowly.

At a cautious pace, he approached her, vaguely admiring how the moonlight illuminated her beautifully.

"Oh no," he whispered as he saw her face.

With sorrow, he observed her eyes framed by large dark circles under her eyes, making him realize that, once again, as she had done for a whole year, she stayed awake waiting for him to return. 

And to make matters worse, her lips drooped, and, her eyelids swollen, hinted that she cried herself to sleep.

He stroked her cheek gently.

Thinking of what he would say when she woke up.

She started to rise as she felt Philipart's touch.

Her eyes opened, sleepily, revealing the sky reflected in them.

"Philip."

Pap!

The sound of a thump echoed throughout the living room.

The mark of a hand formed on one cheek.

"You're an idiot! I didn't sleep a wink waiting for you to come back like a fool!"

She stopped her complaints to listen to his explanation.

She hoped he would say more than a simple "sorry".

He couldn't, he wanted to express himself, he wanted to say how sorry he was, but nothing came out. Everything he saw and experienced on the expedition, the situation with the Senate and Crassus.

The mental burden he felt was consuming him.

He fell to his knees, and looked at her.

She frowned, her head falling back a little at the strange action of Philipart, who lowered his gaze, and, little by little, buried his face in Nazly's belly.

"Lo-love?"

He answered with a desolate cry, which he accompanied with cries of anguish.

Nazly was speechless. After more than twelve years of knowing each other, it was the first time she had seen the man she had idealized as sentimentally strong cry.

What he could not say in words, he conveyed with his bitter weeping.

She sighed deeply, and as if it were a maternal instinct, she began to caress his head, repeating in his ear: It's okay, it's okay, calm down.

She could not help but feel sorry for him. It was only then that she understood. His cold and impulsive way of acting was not because he wanted to be like that, but because so many thoughts, situations, worries and feelings dominated him and he did not know how to release and express them.

This ended up triggering reckless behavior. He did not think clearly.

She did not judge him anymore.

She did not stop comforting him until he calmed down.

She lowered her hands, and carefully lifted his head to look into his eyes.

"Are you better now?" Showing him a welcoming smile, she asked.

He nodded his head, rose shakily, and sat down next to her.

"How did it go with Arcadio?" So as not to make him relapse again, she chose not to ask him the reason for his crying.

"Mo-Montag, one of Arcadio's guards, advised us both on how we should act in this situation."

"A guard? A fortress guard advised you?"

At Nazly's slightly mocking tone, he ignored the question.

He looked around the room with the intention of relaxing a little, knowing that it would be his last night there.

"Nazly, we have to pack everything we need. We're moving to Anko.

"Huh? Why?" At this sudden change of attitude and thought, she became excited. "Why are we moving? And why to that place?"

The move seemed very sudden, and even offensive to all the times they had spent in the house where they had already lived for ten years.

Philipart stood up, his hands trembling.

"Now I am only the Magister Militum per Occidentem... Crásico, the one from the east," he said bluntly. "I only control the troops of the Afriki region," he turned to her, asking her, with a withering look, not to question him anymore, and to do as he asked.

Nazly could not finish processing the words spoken by Philipart, before she felt a shiver run through her body at the way he saw her.

When she understood, she asked no more, stood up, and withdrew to do as he asked.

 ◇◆◇

Are you really going to keep washing your hands of your experiences as a cheap excuse?

As soon as you arrived in Anko, you used your savings to buy a modest house in the center of town at a cost of twenty-five thousand darios, and a middle-aged slave girl named Sila for ten thousand, to help Nazly with the housekeeping, housework and, in general, whatever else she might need.

You left the carriage outside the new house and, like the repulsive and disgusting ice that you are, you gave her no words and not a kiss.

You left without even helping her out of the vehicle.

You couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the quizzical looks people gave you on your way.

Looking at you was like looking at a dead man who had returned from the underworld to continue suffering in this doom called life.

Your dark circles under your eyes, your stooped gait, the dirt on your face, your expression, showed anything but hope.

Curia Cornificia, Anko, Afriki

Penultimate month of 575

You accelerated your pace until you reached the Curia of the city, where the political and military advisors of Afriki met from time to time to discuss important issues regarding the region.

They are the ones you should go to in order to validate your title as Magister per Occidentem, and thus be able to take control of the legions that correspond to you.

"Please wait, I will give notice of your presence," the guard guarding the entrance responded to your request to have an audience with the leaders who, at this moment, were having another of their many meetings.

You accepted his words.

After that, you admired the surroundings for a few moments: the merchants, wearing smiles full of cunning, deceitfully offering their products; the people acting with naive joy; soldiers carrying weapons.

Everything, to you, looked strangely normal, as if they were unaware that, day by day, a fuse was burning in the Empire that was about to explode.

What's the matter with you?

Do you want to go yell at them?

Are you really so unhappy as to ruin their day just because they are not acting as you expected them to act?

"My lord," the guard's voice brought you out of your noxious thoughts. "You can go in now, they are waiting for you," he stepped aside, stretching out his hands, pointing to the entrance.

Do you deserve such respectful treatment?

You feigned tranquility.

You thanked him for his kindness, and walked into the Curia.

It didn't take you long to reach the auditorium, whose doors were opened by the guards guarding them.

Before entering, you sighed wearily, thinking that, as in the Senate, you would have to speak in strong words to validate your words.

You regained your composure, and entered the room, determined. You would get what you wanted no matter what.

"We have been expecting you, Magister Philipart," you were greeted with a warm smile by a man of medium build named Prisco Rufo.

You frowned, let out a laugh.

Not for responding gracefully to his words, but out of confusion at being called by the title you came to validate.

"ExExcuse me?" It didn't occur to you to say anything else, you thought you had misheard.

The man gave you a little bow.

"It's a pleasure to have you here, we were looking forward to your presence, Magister Philipart."

Without meaning to, you smiled.

"That means what...?"

"Yes, your title as Magister per Occidentem has been approved by the council of Afriki," after interrupting you, he paused. His expression became serious. "We have tried not to spread the news of the tension with the Senate among the citizens. That way we avoided a crisis."

His words relieved you, apart from taking a burden off your shoulders, he solved your doubts caused by the, according to you, strange behavior of the people.

The man gave you a pass so that you could position yourself in the center of the atrium, and thus, you could address those present and make them aware of your plans. Which you, without any problem, did.

As if you deserved it.

"Dear members of the Afriki council. I don't think you are aware of the relief you have given me. You brought me out of the darkness I had been in after the humiliation I suffered thanks to the Senate."

The men looked at you with pity.

One of them stood up to ask for your attention, which you readily gave.

"I am very sorry to hear that my lord. I-I am called Kazet Noman, and I am the one who is as regent in command of all the legions of Afriki, anxious for you to arrive and...."

"Will I take control of them?" You interrupted, eager.

"That's right, my lord," he bowed to you, to which he resumed his seat, demonstrating submission on his part.

"For the time being," Prisco spoke to you, "two legions, the II Natlla and the IX Corsés, will be delivered to you instantly, so that you may begin what you plan to do."

Those present stood up and applauded, looking at you smiling, as if they saw in you the salvation of the Empire.

Thus, you, without asking for it, by the benevolence of the leaders and their indirect request for help, fulfilled the first of your objectives.

Days ago

They left at dawn, it was urgent for him to get to Anko as soon as possible.

By his own standards, they were taking too long.

"Honey."

She approached Philipart, who was driving the vehicle, caressing his shoulders, and kissing him delicately on the head.

He kept a serious expression, his eyes were now framed by large dark circles under his eyes, he was thinking of nothing else but getting to Anko.

"Please stay back, I need to concentrate on the road," without looking her in the eyes, he answered her.

His words hurt her, but she didn't abide by them, for, she clung to the thought that he didn't talk like that because he wanted to.

According to her, like a typical romance novel, the kind she used to read as a child, what he needed was a pinch of love.

She hugged him around the waist.

He sighed in exhaustion at that action, however, he could not deny that he missed the warmth that emanated from her small and delicate body.

"What will you do when we get to the capital?" Stroking her thighs, he curiously asked her.

"Take control of the legions and reinforce the borders. In short, prepare Afriki militarily."

She analyzed his words carefully.

"And what will Arcadio do?"

"He will try to take soldiers away from Crásico, how? I don't know, he'll have to figure it out," with one of his hands, he rubbed his eyes to get rid of the sleepiness that was beginning to invade him.

"Why do you have to support Arcadio? It's true, he's your friend, but he's no good in politics, much less in the military field. He will only cause you problems that will slow down your work."

Philipart looked at her sideways, her words had left him thinking.

In a way, she had a point.

"He trusts me," he remembered that Arcadio will entrust him with the safety of his family. I can't let him down on that alone. As long as he gets me more legions, he'll be of use to me.

Nazly twisted her lip and nodded.

She didn't want to go any further into the subject.

She closed her eyes, and fell asleep hugging the body of the one she genuinely loved.