In a way, he had dreaded his return to Verdimond. Yes, the country was beautiful, but he remembered (and remembered very well) the treatment he'd gotten last time. The last Ambassador assigned had been a Lord's younger son and had grown much more used to people simply giving way to his suggestions. His failure had become very known
( ... )
"I cannot, and do not, believe that. If any so-called god intends someone to suffer, then they are not a god that deserves worship." Yes, that would not be a response Aria would want to hear, but his temper had reached the tipping point. "And a man who would cast aside a loved one for a crime that was committed against them instead of by them is a man worthy of no love."
Aria listened to the Ambassador's words and felt sick. The injustice that Aria had felt in his heart since the incident was confirmed now said aloud and Aria felt the need to grieve for it.
He started to tremble, his breaths coming in hard, shakey gasps with the effort of keeping himself from sobbing. His fingertips pressed into the flesh of his arms as he hugged himself, tightening his grip as he concentrated on banishing his tears.
"Not all law is just. And unjust law is meant to be campaigned against," he stated, his voice silk-covered steel. "If you want, I will send word to my Empress. She may grant you political asylum in Vendesey. This treatment is inhumane."
He was inept in the way of comforting, but he did know, once they reached the home he had rented. The money he spent, now, would become part of a campaign in Vendesey. His reputation would not be tarnished. He would be respected.
"If I must, I will purchase you from that business for whatever price it is that they demand. I cannot see one who has had a crime committed against them be punished for it."
"I am a Virtuous man, Aria. I would have your freedom. Your right to live as you please, without a stigma that should have no bearing on you." And that was utterly true. There was no desire in Kithaniel's eyes. Only anger on Aria's behalf.
Aria relaxed straight away, then felt terrible for the suspicion that his intentions were anything but good. "I'm sorry, Ambassador, such a suggestion was a vile thing to leave my mouth. Forgive me."
He was quiet a moment more before speaking slowly, " Your Empress would consider granting asylum to a Wrecker?"
"A Wrecker?" What the W stood for now was clear, but the meaning of the word still escaped him unless his suspicions were correct. "If by that you mean someone in your situation, yes. She has made her stance on such things very clear. The criminal is the one who forced themself on someone else - not the one who was forced upon. This law has been enforced in Vendesey for generations - and will remain so under her blessed rule."
"Yes, that is what one is called who commits adultery in Verdimond," Aria confirmed, "It is a very serious crime. If your Empress would allow me residence in your lands my gratitude could not be expressed, I would be eternally in her debt, and yours."
The thought of a way out of this awful life was one that made Aria want to weep with joy, but he didn't yet dare hope that such a thing could really happen. ....Could it?
"I will send word tonight," he nodded, quiet and serious. She would be offended on Aria's behalf, Kithaniel was sure. He had met with the Empress personally after his assignment to Verdimond and they had spoken of everything that had happened. She had expressed her worries - and now those worries seemed founded. "And I will see to making certain you have proper clothing for the journey."
"You would be a guest of the Empire. In fact, you would likely be the social butterfly of the Season." He could predict that easily. So many would love to speak with him, to make him the star at their parties. He, himself, would quickly become a footnote - just as he preferred to be.
"Really?" Aria frowned, confused. After what happened to even the most common and poor of his own people were repulsed by him and shunned him. The thought that he might be more than just a Wrecker again was a wonderful one.
"Thank you, Ambassador. How can I begin to express how grateful I am to you... Bless you, sir."
"There's no need to thank me." In fact, he waved it off. "I only do what is right."
The carriage had turned into a neighborhood that was likely much more familiar to Aria, with the fashionable homes of the well-to-do in the area. The one Kithaniel had leased was not one of the best. It was, however, perfectly respectable. The carriage turned into the drive and soon stopped at the foot of the steps, Kithaniel's cue to open the door and step down. Once he was settled on his feet, he offered his arm up toward Aria.
"I'll see to it that the servants warm a bath for you and that clothing of some sort is set out for you afterward. I'll also pass on your diet preferences to the cook."
Aria smiled. "That sounds like Paradise," he said.
A woman was walking by and stopped on seeing them, her expression twisting to one of disgust, she said nothing but made it clear that she was not happy.
"We hould hurry inside," Aria murmured, wary of the woman and giving her an apologetic look.
At this point, he was unconcerned at how he was looked at. This country was not his and, very soon, he would be leaving it. But all the same, when the door of his house was opened by the butler inside, he still offered his arm for Aria to take. His own respect had not suffered. If anything, it had grown.
Unlike some who had been so attacked, Aria had survived and, from what Kithaniel could see, had survived admirably.
Soon, he was giving orders for a bath to be drawn and heated for his guest, and that clothing, as best fit, be found for him - and that if needed, he, himself, would be in his study, composing a missive.
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He started to tremble, his breaths coming in hard, shakey gasps with the effort of keeping himself from sobbing. His fingertips pressed into the flesh of his arms as he hugged himself, tightening his grip as he concentrated on banishing his tears.
" ... it is the law... "
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He was inept in the way of comforting, but he did know, once they reached the home he had rented. The money he spent, now, would become part of a campaign in Vendesey. His reputation would not be tarnished. He would be respected.
"If I must, I will purchase you from that business for whatever price it is that they demand. I cannot see one who has had a crime committed against them be punished for it."
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He was guarded, untrusting, his faith in goodness had taken such a severe battering it had shaken his belief that it had ever existed.
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"I'm sorry, Ambassador, such a suggestion was a vile thing to leave my mouth. Forgive me."
He was quiet a moment more before speaking slowly, " Your Empress would consider granting asylum to a Wrecker?"
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The thought of a way out of this awful life was one that made Aria want to weep with joy, but he didn't yet dare hope that such a thing could really happen. ....Could it?
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"Thank you, Ambassador. How can I begin to express how grateful I am to you... Bless you, sir."
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The carriage had turned into a neighborhood that was likely much more familiar to Aria, with the fashionable homes of the well-to-do in the area. The one Kithaniel had leased was not one of the best. It was, however, perfectly respectable. The carriage turned into the drive and soon stopped at the foot of the steps, Kithaniel's cue to open the door and step down. Once he was settled on his feet, he offered his arm up toward Aria.
"I'll see to it that the servants warm a bath for you and that clothing of some sort is set out for you afterward. I'll also pass on your diet preferences to the cook."
Reply
A woman was walking by and stopped on seeing them, her expression twisting to one of disgust, she said nothing but made it clear that she was not happy.
"We hould hurry inside," Aria murmured, wary of the woman and giving her an apologetic look.
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Unlike some who had been so attacked, Aria had survived and, from what Kithaniel could see, had survived admirably.
Soon, he was giving orders for a bath to be drawn and heated for his guest, and that clothing, as best fit, be found for him - and that if needed, he, himself, would be in his study, composing a missive.
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