Arirea

The pounding of drums approaching brought a silence over the market. Arirea put the fruit she held back on the stall before following the small trickle of people who had begun to leave the marketplace. They congregated on the side of the road that led out of the village, curious about what the drums would signify. It was only once the approaching men grew nearer that whispers broke out amongst the crowd.

They were military troops.

More people gathered by the road and Arirea had to tightened her grip on her bundle of material to prevent them from falling from her arms as people squeezed in around her. Something serious must have happened for troops to be deployed to their village. There had been no announcements of increased protection or recruitment.

Instead of stopping, the troops carried on down the road and in the direction of the barracks. Not a single sound was uttered, and once their footsteps began to fade, the crowd began to edge its way down towards the barracks. As if he had expected to be followed, the man who had brought up the rear of the formation stood in the middle of the road only a few feet away from the barrack grounds.

"People of Fairveint, listen carefully," the man commanded, making a hush fall over the crowd. He unrolled a scroll and held it up before reading from it. "There is to be a fortnight of mourning - a week for mourning the death of the Emperor's mother, and a week for mourning the death of the Chancellor's daughter. There is to be no work in the mines or fields during this time, nor can the market resume its trading. Any form of employment is to be halted until the fortnight's end. When dusk settles upon each day, each citizen must attend the service in the chapel. An absence from one service will receive a verbal warning, and on the second the citizen will be subjected to a ten publish lashings for disrespecting His Eminence."

Arirea had to bite down on the tip of her thumb to prevent herself from crying out in outrage. How were they supposed to live with no work for a fortnight? No job paid enough to purchase food for prolonged periods and the most food she kept in her home would last a mere two days.

The man continued to read. "During this fortnight, the village of Fairveint is to be under the authority of Troop B7 of Magriv's home service, commanded by me, Major Emeric. In light of the assassination of His Eminence's mother and the Chancellor's daughter, the soldiers of Troop B7 are permitted to search each citizen's home for suspected traitor alliances and sporadic searches of each person shall be permitted when any soldier suspects that person to be concealing an object of interest."

"The traitors were hung!" a man shouted from behind Arirea, making the Major look up briefly from the scroll.

"We have reason to believe that these assassinations were coordinated and His Eminence has given explicit instructions to root out any possible accomplices," he said coldly, his annoyance clear on his face. "Upon the completion of the period of mourning, Troop B7 will split into its sub-units where unit 2B7 will remain as a permanent authority for Fairveint by order of the Emperor. There is to be no discussion, no complaints and my men are permitted to use force when necessary. Now pack up the market stalls and head back to your homes. The first service shall begin shortly."

With that, the man rolled up the scroll, turned on his heel and marched into the barracks. For a moment there was no movement until someone shouted "Fuck the Emperor!" Arirea's eyes widened and she pushed through the now-moving crowd, not wanting to see the consequences those words would bring. She kept her head bowed the entire walk back to her home, thinking over what had just been announced.

"Where've you been?" came Elys's voice.

She stepped passed him and entered their home, putting the material on the small wooden table that cluttered the frame that led into their barely functional kitchen. "There are troops," she said.

"Troops?" he questioned as she turned to face him. "Ain't no troops here."

"By order of the Emperor."

Those words made Elys curl his lip and spit on the floor. "Fuck the Emperor and fuck the Chancellor."

"It's a fortnight of mourning. There is to be a service nightly, of which attendance is required," she continued.

He snorted. "They can take my attendance and shove it up their arse."

"You always got to be like this?" she snapped, placing her hands on her hips. "'Fuck the Emperor', 'Fuck the Chancellor'. Our homes are being searched, our lives halted and if they so wish, we are to be searched as well. Hold your tongue and your ill-conceived notions for once if you wish to survive."

For a moment she and Elys just stared at one another before he turned to the shelf that held the food she had made for tonight, picked up the pot and dumped the contents onto the floor. "Better clean that up," he said.

Enraged, she grabbed the candlestick holder that sat next to the material and hurled it towards his head. "Get out!" she screeched. "Get out, you blundering git! I hope you choke on your pig-headed ignorance!"

"Don't think I'm coming home tonight."

"Good!" She threw another candlestick holder at him as he rushed out of their door, leaving her alone in their home with the food that had stewed overnight dumped all over the floor. If he wanted to waste food during the time where they couldn't work, that was fine. She just wouldn't cook for him. Let him fend for himself and finally become acquainted with the stove.

Arirea grabbed the bucket from the small windowless bathroom and knelt next to the stew, scooping up the food and dropping it into the bucket. The sauce it had stewed in was still on the floor which meant she would have to empty the bucket and fill it up with water so she could scrub it, which normally wouldn't be that bad, but if she had to attend the service at dusk then that meant she would have to move quicker than normal. Leaving the sauce to stain the floor and make it sticky wasn't something she was even contemplating.

The pieces of the stew were dumped on the street and she washed the bucket out before filling it with clean water and rubbing some suds from their bar of soap into it. Propping the front door open, she then got back onto her knees, dipped her brush into the water and heaped a handful of it onto the floor, scrubbing as she went.

Most days she wanted to hit Elys with something. He just wouldn't shut up, even if it was for his own good. The amount of times she'd had to intervene while at the market just to spare him from a lashing was far too high. He didn't know how to blend in and put his head down, that she was certain.

As she was scrubbing the last section of sauce, there were heavy knocks on the door. Her head shot up and her heart sank when she saw two soldiers were stood in her doorway. She rose to her feet and wiped her hands on the front of her dress. "Can I help you?" she asked, looking between them suspiciously.

"Is this your home?" the tallest one asked.

"What's it to you?"

"Just answer the question."

She looked between the men and noted that the candlesticks were still lying on the floor, in perfect reach in case she needed them. "Fine. Yeah it is," she said.

The smaller one looked at the parchment he held then looked back. "This is the Heriot home," he stated.

"Yes."

"Is it just you?"

She scoffed. "'Course not. Don't your parchment say nothing?"

The taller one scowled at her. "Mind your words," he snapped.

"Who else lives with you?"

"My husband."

"Name."

"Elys."

"Your name."

"Arirea."

The solider gave a nod. "All correct."

She looked at them distastefully as they still lingered in her doorway. The taller soldier looked her over. "Best change before the service. Don't want those lashings, do we?" he taunted before moving out of the doorway and heading off. When the other left, she stepped over the bucket and slammed the door shut, sliding the deadbolt into place. Soldiers were despicable.

Nevertheless, she finished cleaning the floor and then changed into a different smock-frock. She combed her stray hair strands down and secured them back into her bun before she left the home, heading to the chapel. Though she knew that Elys wouldn't go back on his word, she was irritated when she didn't see him on her way there or once she was inside. If they name checked them, he would be counted as missing and she wouldn't put it past soldiers to punish her for his wrongdoing. They were untrustworthy sorts, especially those of the home service.

It appeared that the entire village had taken heed of the Major's words as the chapel was overcrowded by the time the service began. It was a tedious affair, with the sermon preacher mispronouncing the Chancellor's daughter's name. She hoped that the loss of his daughter would open the Chancellor's eyes to the plight that many in the villages also faced, but she knew there was a slim chance of that happening. That was why she felt no ounce of sympathy for either him or the Emperor, and found herself secretly wishing that the Emperor himself would be assassinated.

By the time the service was complete, the sky had grown dark and she once again cursed Elys for being a pigheaded prat. As she began making her way down the street that branched off to her home, her arm was grabbed and she was spun around to face one of the soldiers. She wondered whether they had noticed Elys wasn't there.

"Are you Arirea?" he asked.

She eyed him suspiciously. "Yes."

"Do you not recognise me?" the solider asked after she just stared at him blankly.

"Should I?" she replied coolly.

"It's Reeve," he said, making her frown. "Do you not remember?"

Realisation dawned on her and she tore her arm from his grip. "Why should I remember you?" she hissed, stepping away when he went to grab her arm again. "Leave me alone."

She turned to continue on her way but he attempted to grab her again, so she spun on her heel and slapped him across the face. "I had hoped you died for all these years. Now stay dead," she spat before walking briskly away from him.

Reeve was a thorn in her side she had rid herself of the moment he had betrayed her. She was not dealing with him again.