Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabble 7

Written: 2017

Sen flinched back as he saw a familiar face in the back of the bar. He reached for his missing sword, only for his hand to reach into empty space. His heart dropped. The fact it was gone moved forward in his mind. He was on longer a member of the guard. And that meant not carrying a weapon in public anymore.

Hands clenching and unclenching, Sen ducked out, heading down a side road to a quieter area. He had to move on from the guard. The Emperor had defeated the peacemaker guards and disbanded them. He had claimed the last bit of disputed space in their quadrant, and now, Sen needed to rebuild the fragments of his life. That task was a mountain enough without letting the past get involved and stop him. The Emperor had claimed his father as his bridegroom and disowned him. Sen had no family, no money and no experience. This was not going to be easy.

"This will be fine," Sen said to himself trying to be optimistic. There had to be something he could do. Someone he could call for help. Just not him. That man had spent the better part of the war claiming Sen as his rival. Now Sen was a 'freeman'; Sen doubted that was going to stop. It would be easy to see him. Sen was pretty sure he could get the man to shelter him for the night. Might involve some humiliation but it would be warm. But he was one of the Emperor's swords.

If the Emperor wanted nothing to do with him, Sen wanted nothing to do with them back.

Sen shivered as a cold breeze, blew through the little park area he had taken shelter. It was a desert planet. Boiling during the day, then icy cold during the night. It clawed at him. He pulled the rags on him closer, closing his eyes and taking a few breaths. He had nowhere to go. Barely a day out of the detention centre and Sen was struggling.

Optimism was for fools. The Emperor loved saying that, Sen could almost hear it now. The last time he's heard it, the Emperor had muttered it softly. The sentiment had proven him right in the end. Being optimistic would not keep someone alive. It would not keep Sen alive.

"People are not allowed to sleep here," a gruff voice commented. "Get yourself off," An older man was looking at him with disgust in his eyes.

Sen nodded. Rubbing the back of his neck, he stood and stumbled to the road. He needed to find somewhere safe for the night. He had a few coins. He might be able to scrap enough for one night somewhere. Tomorrow, he'd have to go job hunting.

"Nice to see a familiar face," a voice commented, a hand patting his back hard enough that Sen almost tripped.

"For you," Sen said through gritted teeth as he turned to face the man with him. Beck, not the man he was avoiding but one of his squad. "You look well," he noted, eyes wandering over the almost clean uniform. Sen could smell the beer on him. Beck was friendly enough if not a little devious in his own way with pranks, but drinking always made people more unpredictable.

"You don't," Beck frowned. The man reached for his arm, but Sen backed away. Beck's eyebrows furrowed. "Sen?"

"It's nothing," Sen promised, hoping his voice was convincing. "Go enjoy yourself, Beck."