The Angaran Chronicles: The General and the Poet.

Chapter 4

With power bordering on the melodramatic, Raleas flung the vast, double oak doors open. They hit the walls with such a crash that the entire procession dropped into silence. Their attention turned over their shoulders.

The priest had frozen in his prayers as he stood at the altar, gaping. His hands still raised above his head. Raleas grimaced, a fitting metaphor. She started down the aisle with Dulgress and Kalvik on her flanks, a step behind her.

The church was even more crowded than the car parks outside. People of all ages sat on the pews, and dozens more stood, leaning against the wall. All of their eyes followed Raleas, Kalvik and Dulgress as they stormed toward the front of the church.

Her father stepped off the end of the left side pew and stood to face her. Even with her guard up, even with every intention to keep walking, Raleas couldn't help freeze, as did Dulgress and Kalvik.

Even from five metres away, he seemed to tower over her like a troll.

'What are you doing here?' he said. His rumbling, deep voice seemed to destroy the very air around Raleas, making it hard to breathe. 'I told you that you could not attend the funeral.'

Raleas swallowed and furrowed her brow, and she swore she could hear Kalvik and Dulgress doing the same.

'Sergeant, private,' said her dad. 'You were meant to stop her from entering. I had given you explicit orders.'

'Sir, I-' said Dulgress, but Raleas interrupted him with a raised hand; she knew now that all attention plastered on the general.

'This is between you and me, father,' said Raleas. 'Leave them out of this.'

'They disobeyed an order,' said the general.

'Only because that order was bullshit,' said Raleas.

There were no gasps or any other sound of shock from the mourners; the silence just became even more intense, even more weighted — accusing, almost terrified.

Her father's only reaction was a slight narrowing of his eyes. 'I am general Sologhor Effernetti of the 81st Zatharian regiment; no order I have ever given, nor any I will ever give is 'bullshit.' Now leave, before I make you leave.'

Raleas stood her ground. 'I am not budging an inch, father. This is where I'm supposed to be; she was my mother. What kind of person would prevent his own daughter from attending her mother's funeral?'

'A man whose daughter needs to understand her place!' he said, and Raleas had to fight not to take a step back. 'You questioned me; you questioned my wisdom.'

Raleas straightened as the realisation hit her. 'And that brought it out, didn't it?'

He took a slight step back. 'What?'

'The only person in this world who questioned you was her,' said Raleas. 'The only person who never kowtowed around you; was her. So when I did, it brought those memories back, made you feel it...'

'Feel what?'

'The sadness,' said Raleas. 'Made you have to face it. That's why you punished me; I remind you of her, I made you feel weak-'

Faster than Raleas thought possible, her father had crossed the distance between them, and his hand clasped around her throat.

'How dare you,' he said while raising her from her feet with one hand. 'How dare you talk to me like that.'

Raleas grinned despite her struggle to breathe. 'What did you...say to me?'

'Huh?' he said.

'You taught me...father, that the first to lose their temper...loses,' said Raleas. 'Even if they kill their enemy, they still...lost the battle of wits and thus will...lose, again one...day. To let emotion override their judgement...is a weakness...and...and that's just...what you...did.'

'That, that wasn't the...way...of the...officer,' she gasped. 'You...have...lost.'

Then something happened that Raleas had never seen before, something that sent such potent confusion through her, her jaw dropped.

He smiled, then without a word, he let her go, and she fell onto her arse, unable to control her legs.

His smile grew into a grin, then he threw back his head and exploded into laughter. Strange, almost psychotic laughter rang through the church and seemed to turn Raleas' brain into sludge.

She needed to ask what was so funny but she couldn't. Her neck hurt, her throat was on fire, but the pain was nothing compared to her horror. Her horror was that the laughter was genuine.

He laughed for what seemed an age, as though he'd pent up decades of mirth and was only letting it out now. When he was finally, finally finished, he looked down at Raleas, grinning like a madman.

'You have passed,' he said.

The church erupted into a hissing sea bemused whispers.

'What?' Raleas managed.

'Did I stutter?' he said. 'You have passed the test, Raleas. You have done well.'

'I-I don't understand.'

'You have proven you have innate officer potential,' he said. 'You have proven you are worthy of being my adjutant. So you may bypass starting as private and having to work your way up the ranks.'

A collective gasp surrounded Raleas.

'B-but, sir, that's impossible,' said Kalvik. 'Everyone has to start at the bottom; there are no exceptions even for the children of officers.'

'I am making her an exception, sergeant,' said the general. 'She has more than proven herself.'

'How?' said Raleas, her voice barely a whisper, but her father somehow heard her.

'How? I thought it was rather obvious, young lady. First, you managed to get the strength to make your way here, overcame your depression. That shows exceptional willpower. Second, you managed to convince Kalvik and Dulgress onto your side somehow, which shows you have great skill in persuasion. Third, you managed to hold your ground against me and read me. That shows admirable courage and skill at reading others and remarkable self-control.'

He shrugged. 'Of course, I was faking it, but you still read what I was faking. Maybe one day, you'll even see through that. You have proven you can be more than just a sniper, Raleas, that you will make a fine officer, too. I'm not surprised; you are my daughter, after all.'

Raleas couldn't say anything; she could only gape in utter shock.

'Now, on your feet, my daughter,' he said. 'You have more than earned your place here, in this funeral.'

Without meaning to and almost like she was puppet pulled by strings, Raleas stood and sat at the front pew, her vision bordered in that same haze of hours ago. She had no idea what to think, what to feel.

Then someone started to clap; they were followed by another, then another and another until the entire funeral filled with applause. The only ones not clapping were Raleas, the general and Kalvik.

It lasted for almost half a minute before dying away.

'Begin again, Felemhue,' said the general.

The priest cleared his throat and did as told, as though nothing had occurred.

It was then Raleas realised what she was feeling. Then her hands on her thighs curled into fists, fists so tight it caused pain to pulse into her bones and up her arms.