<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">AIUS CARRINUS</span></span></span></div><br/><br/>He didn't turn to watch the golden ephemeral spirits that danced about the room, except when his front became too hot from the fire and he turned to warm his back.  Even then he didn't watch so much as let their motion wash over his eyes; as the music did his ears; the fire his skin.  The lyrist was skilled, that Aius Carrinus could not dispute.  He played with a deft hand, striking notes that weren't about impressing the audience so much as about soothing them.  Aius had heard such a player once, years before as a Centurion in the fallen barracks of Corcyra.  The Valonni legion had barricaded itself within the barracks, waiting with little hope for reinforcements to fend off the encamping Argean phalanxes that had the barracks surrounded.<br/><br/>For three days the battle was waged as either army threw everything it had at other.  Both sides knew it was a matter of time before the palisades were overrun - the Valonni captain hoped only to take as many Argeans with his men as possible.  Knowing that the fourth battle the next morn would see his forces victorious, the Argean commander had sent tokens of earth and water beneath a white flag as sign of truce.  Aius remembered the messengers words as though hearing them fresh before him once more:<br/><br/>"If the Valonni men wish to surrender with honor, the option is hereby given them-" cries and jeers greeted these words; the Valonni legions were not given to surrender.  The messenger continued unconcerned:  "If we are to battle, then, let us both sides lay down our arms for the span of one day.  A day and night of feasting, drinking and contests of physical prowess in offering to the Father of Greatness!"  This option, the men surely preferred.  With their cries of approval ringing throughout the fallen barracks around him, the Valonni captain accepted the tokens of earth and water as each side laid down their arms.  A burnt offering was made in sacrifice by the Valonni chaplains and the Argean priests, consecrating a solemn vow of armistice.  The barracks gates were set open as the Valonni men came forth, bearing neither arms nor armor; greeted by the Argeans with open arms.<br/><br/>Then began a day of feasting the likes of which Aius would never have forgotten, had it not been for the vast quantities of wine he consumed, tinting all of his memories of that night with pleasant rosy tones.  He<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>remember coming third in the contest of fisticuffs, with a scrappy Argean potter somehow winning the day to the amazement of all.  No doubt Aius still had the silver mark he'd won that day, stamped with Argean writing he couldn't understand yet had prized all the same - buried with all his other abandoned possessions at his quarters in Val Onetti.<br/><br/>That night, as the men sat about campfires without regard to rank or even country, Sirayo played his lyre for them all.  A different song than tonight's, of course, but similar all the same not in notes but in mood.  Despite the fact that the men were slated to pick up their arms and armor that next morning, tonight they were all captivated by the lyrist's gently melodies and entrancing phonological lightshows.<br/><br/>A discordant note jerked the Secutorian soldier from his reverie, and he turned to see the golden dancers gone, as the truculent innkeeper sought to kick the Argean lad from the common room.  Although Aius was eager to hear more from the lyre, the business between innkeeper, Sirayo and now the blonde girl, was no business of his own.  Only just now getting warm from the fire, Aius saw no reason to jeopardize his place under the roof tonight - and perhaps now with one fewer occupants there would open up for Aius somewhere a cot or even small bedroll.  He turned away from the scene, putting the struggle from his mind as he warmed his hands before the fire once more.<br/><br/>"...nothing but rumors..." he heard one man mutter a few shoulders down to his right.  Straining his ears, Aius leaned in to pick up more tones from the conversation around him.  His only goal was to reach Batroun and be reunited with his wife and children - and to make it there alive he needed to know more about the surrounding countryside.  He knew that for the last few weeks the Dark Horde had completely consolidated its hold over the larger cities of the fallen Geian Empire, and were now beginning to move into the countryside in pursuit of renegade forces.  Alone, Aius had no option to fight the King of Darkness; but he could perhaps sneak through its forces as he made his way further east.  Any bit of news, no matter how small, could aid him in such an endeavor.<br/><br/>"...angel...outside town..." answered another voice, this one with the chesty, deep-set rumbling cough indicative of the white plague.  As a centurion Aius had been inoculated against the white plague by the sulfurous fumes that all recruits had to be purified in.  As for the other men who didn't seem worried by the man's symptoms, perhaps they either didn't know or didn't care.  What did lungers' disease matter when world's end was just around the corner?<br/><br/>"...capture it..." Aius heard.  Intrigued, he reluctantly gave up his spot before the flames and tried to surreptitiously make his way closer to the conspiring conversationalists.  He kept his back to the men, and moved an eye about the room, noticing the furthering developments between the innkeeper and Sirayo, whatever they were.<br/><br/>"Because," the plagued man wheezed, "if we<span style="font-style: italic">catch</span>the angel and<span style="font-style: italic">give</span>it to the Dark Horde, we will be taken care of.  If the<span style="font-style: italic">minions</span>find the angel first, we'll<span style="font-style: italic">all </span>be punished for sheltering the thing."  Aius heard the man spit phlegm into the fireplace where it sizzled among the crackling logs.  "Which will it be, Avienus, one angel vs the death of everyone in the village?"<br/><br/>Although his immediate reaction was to align himself with the angel - an obvious choice; the Father of Greatness vs the King of Darkness - Aius found himself not acting.  Instead, although it shamed him deeply, he considered which option would greater increase his chances of reaching his wife and children.  Were the angel to be captured by the Dark Horde tonight, he'd have to escape the village with their greater presence and greater risk of being caught.  If he left now he'd risk the storm and the wakes of imps roaming the countryside.  Were he to try to<span style="font-style: italic">find</span>the angel himself - would he turn it in to secure his own safety or would he commit himself to the righteous cause even if that meant potentially abandoning his search for his family?<br/><br/>Despite being a man of simplistic thoughts, Aius found himself plagued by his choices once more.  In the Kingdom of Darkness it was kill or be killed, surely - but how far would he fall just to see to his own selfish ends?  In the fallen barracks of Corcyra he'd vowed death before dishonor, but now he found the way less sure.  With a low muttering growl he turned away from the fire.