My Short Stories

The Guilty, Finale

Despite the death of their leader, Reaver, and the exile of a seemingly innocent man, the people were all happy to move on with their lives. Such was the way of the world now. Those who dwell in the past are left behind. It was for the best, of course. Better that people move on than to let panic set in. The memories of Heathen were quickly forgotten, and after having a small ceremony, the body of Reaver was put to rest.

Someone had yet to be named as the new successor. There were talks, but most of it was sideline arguments and petty threats that led to nothing. It was more frustrating than anything. It almost made Orfeo want to sit his own ass on the throne just to get things over with. It wasn't like anyone would argue. There was no secrecy to the fact that he was the more popular of the Commanders. But he knew of the intrigues of politics. The web of lies and deceit. There was real danger to it, and for the life of him Orfeo couldn't understand how someone as young as Reaver had managed to master it so well. He was happily content with simply being one of the two commanders in charge of the military and security forces, away from all the grey mushy area that was the political side of things.

But knowing the things that he did, Orfeo couldn't help but feel that Reaver's death had simply been a power-play that slipped under his nose. Yes, he wasn't going to deny that he felt partly to blame for Reaver's death (much to the dismay of his Captain). But for now, all he could really do was watch, listen, and wait. He'd be on the ass of the next person to go into power if he wasn't already. The large list of potential suspects was astounding. Every so often, of course, his mind would wonder over to Heathen, to which he'd keep telling himself that the man was simply a scapegoat. He had known this the day of the man's sentencing but knew that there was not much else he could do. To call him not guilty would have lead to the outrage of the people that demanded a head for the death of their leader whom they had adored since the day of his inauguration. Not to mention that a split would form between himself and Baxter, the other Commander, a divide greater than there was already. He barely managed to maintain the military as a singular organization. The last things needed was for there to be infighting between the two. Even if it had almost come to that twice already. Behind closed doors; events that only a dozen or so people knew about.

Who was he kidding? Things were worse than they ever had been before, and it was all going down the shitter by the minute.

Orfeo sat behind his desk in his office. It was a big room, bigger than what he had wanted it to be, and it overlooked the rest of the city - quite the sight, especially at night. No tall buildings or anything like that. At least, none taller than the one he was in. But the lights told the whole story. Some areas were lit up with night life: people going out to drink, or dance, or just to see what others were up to. Other sections of the city were completely blacked out save for a few stray lights here and there. The darkness, and at times the distance, made it seem as if he were staring out into the night sky at the thousands of stars that colored it. Sure enough, there has been the occasion once or twice when he had sat down by his window late into the night, well past midnight, just to stare out into that artificial night sky with a bottle of whisky in hand.

Tonight had almost been one of those nights. He found himself needing to be distracted from thoughts and looked to staring out into the city with a couple of drinks. The clock hand had just marked that it was three in the morning and still he could not bring himself to look away from his work, badly as he wanted to. There was fatigue in his eyes, mixed with a little bit of desperation.

It was a look that his Captain had become all too familiar with, and one that she found herself encountering once more, yet again, as she entered Orfeo's office without knocking on his door. If he hadn't wanted her in there, he would have locked the door.

Orfeo tore his eyes away from all the paperwork and looked up. She was a woman that stood almost as tall as him, a little over six feet in height, and was almost as strong as he was despite not being as heavy as he was. She was a captain, yes, but their roles could just as easily have been switched and nobody would've blinked and eye. The only reason he held the title he did was because of circumstances out of his control.