Those Who Would Not Be Gods

23. Hurrah: Raff

It was all over.

It had been all over for quite a while, really. Since the start. He'd just been deluded into thinking it wasn't, until it was rubbed in his face that it really, really was. Raff sucked down a long draw of beer and stared bleakly ahead at the back of the bar, past Marco, past everything. Nothing ever went his way. It never did.

"What's your posting for tomorrow?" Giada asked.

Raff took another swig of beer.

"I'm inside," she continued cheerfully. "I'll get to watch the ceremony."

"Raff and I are outside," Sab said.

Giada winced. "That's rough. Won't be able to see the ceremony at all."

Who cared? If it wasn't his ceremony, it didn't matter, did it? And it would never be his. No one wanted him. The world was not going to reward him, no matter how hard he worked.

He became aware of eyes on him. When he turned, he found Sab watching him, an odd expression on his face. Raff raised his eyebrows at Sab. What? Was there something on his face?

"Funny to think this is one of the last times we'll be together," Sab said quietly. He chuckled lightly. "For certain, this time."

That gave Raff pause. He looked up from his drink and just stared at Sab for a moment. He'd almost forgotten that as soon as the ascension was over and a new High Priest crowned, they'd all be off to their official assignments. And to think, he'd been so looking forward to it. Now, it just felt like another defeat. He'd be leaving them all behind. Sab, who was like a brother to him. Giada, his friend. Even Milo. His eyes drifted to the young priest, who was sitting quietly with his hands folded in his lap. He'd miss him, too, little rat that he was, and the Schola, and the Dancing Lights. He'd even miss Castelfiamma, the crazy little city that had somehow become home.

"We can send letters," Giada suggested. "And who knows, maybe Raff and I will end up in the same battalion."

"You'll always be welcome, if you ever have cause to drop by the shrine they post me at," Sab offered.

Silence fell over them again. It wouldn't be the same. They all knew that. Pretending they could stay close only made it hurt more to accept they'd have to part.

The door swung open. Familiar footsteps told Raff who it was, even before he peeked over his shoulder. Pasquale and his cronies. Today, Alessa and Alessi were accompanied by a crowd of sycophants, faces he recognized and more he didn't all clamoring to get Pasquale's attention. Pasquale was dolled up in his nicest uniform, for some reason, all the buckles glistening and his boots polished, doubtlessly by some unfortunate underclassman.

"—can't wait to get out of this shithole," Pasquale was saying to Alessa as he walked in. "My father's already arranged for me to be an officer, you know."

Raff shot a look at Milo. Compared to Pasquale, he looked like just another commoner. He'd put in for a placement, hadn't he? No glory for him. But then again, maybe that was better for Milo. Milo was noble, and nobles became officers, but it was hard to imagine Milo as an officer of any sort. He seemed more predisposed to vanishing into the background than leading men.

"Bartend! Let's get a round for the house, shall we?" Pasquale opened, gesturing grandly. His crowd cheered. He caught sight of Raff, hunkering by the bar, and smirked. "Even those poor souls. I've enough charity in my heart today to share with the lowliest of my fellow graduates."

There was some snickering amongst his sycophants. Raff felt a flicker of anger, but it quickly died. What was the point in fighting? He'd already failed at the only thing he'd ever really wanted. Even if he fought Pasquale, he wouldn't get any closer to the Godstone. If anything, he'd only get further from it.

He sighed out and stood. Sab reached out instinctively to stop him, but he was already walking away. Pasquale had ruined the moment. He'd head home, maybe practice his swordplay, maybe just wait for tomorrow and the ascension. Wait for it all to be over.

"Leaving so soon?" Pasquale pushed. "Is it true after all, then?"

At the door, Raff stopped. He turned slowly and gave Pasquale a dead look. He didn't care. Whatever it was, he didn't care.

"They say you were in the caves with our new High Priest and that girl." Pasquale paused for effect, glancing around his friends. They'd all fallen silent, eyes trained on the two of them. A kind of tension grew in the air, the other patrons taking up the silence as they noticed the unusual lull in the conversation. Behind the bar, Marco started scooting towards the backroom.

Raff inclined his head slightly. He felt Sab's presence close behind him, ready to grab him, no doubt, if he changed his mind about fighting Pasquale after all.

"All alone in the dark. You and two women, and no one else." Pasquale glanced around the room, drinking in the attention. "And since then, the High Priest has shut herself away in her chambers and the girl has gone insane." He spread his hands and looked around, eyebrows raised.

Raff narrowed his eyes. Was Pasquale implying what he thought he was implying?

"So one wonders... what happened in the dark?" Pasquale asked.

The bar was silent. Raff could hear the shuffle of clothes, could hear himself breathe. His lip twitched, somewhere between disgust and derision. What kind of monster did Pasquale think he was? One by one, he met the gazes of the graduates who'd come in with Pasquale and was met with disgust, scorn, but never disbelief. What do they know? A bunch of fools who'd never spoken to him in his life, and they thought they knew who he was?

But I'm just another no-name. No crime is too good for me. He'd never be worth anything in their eyes. If only they knew Cecile was as much a no-name as myself. He almost managed a smirk at that.

"Hardly shut herself away," Milo said softly. His voice was still hoarse, the scar still red, but the conviction in his words was powerful. As he spoke, he rose, moving towards Raff and the door. "Cecile's been spending her evenings at the house of every noble within a day's travel. Everyone is holding a gala in her honor."

"Just because she hasn't been to your mansion doesn't mean she hasn't been out. Guess you're not such a hotshot after all," Giada said with a casual shrug.

Sab put a hand on Raff's shoulder. For a second, Raff thought it was meant to hold him back, but it was warmer. More compassionate. "You don't need to respond to people like him. He's only making things up because he has no power over you." His voice was low, as if he hadn't meant for Pasquale to hear, but loud enough everyone in the bar could clearly understand him.

"You—how dare—" Pasquale spluttered.

Raff stared one more second. The temptation to punch Pasquale right in his stupid nose rose up inside him all at once, then died. That was what Pasquale wanted. A show. The chance to show all his friends how pathetic those no-names really were. Fighting here would be his loss, no matter what.

He shook his head. Not tonight. Pasquale wasn't going to win tonight. He turned and walked out of the Dancing Lights for the very last time.