Page 12 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)
Devin
M y eyes scan the ornate interior of the Cathedral, the scent of incense is heavy in the air. The stained glass casts a kaleidoscope of colours onto the stone floor, and for a moment, I allow myself to appreciate the quiet before the inevitable storm.
Mace’s voice crackles in my earpiece, a low grumble about Gunther’s paranoia. I don’t disagree, but I keep my thoughts to myself. The Chapter Lord’s fears might be unfounded, but they’re not mine to judge.
I move through the space with practiced precision, my gloved hands brushing over the wooden pews, checking for anything out of place, anything that might pose a threat. The silence is punctuated only by the distant echo of the High Priest’s commands and the occasional rustle of robes.
For a moment my mind flickers to the blushing bride.
The girl with the impossibly slim waist. She’s in here somewhere, sequestered, being sanctified and prepared for her big day.
My eyes glance at the giant stone where she’ll be laid out and checked while we all watch on.
I wonder what they will do if the little bitch turns out to be not as pure as they all expect.
What will Gunther do? The scandal will no doubt ricochet, reverberate.
Our dear Chapter Lord would be humiliated, especially after all the trouble he went to, to secure his precious bride.
“Blake.” The sharp call of my name snaps me back to reality.
I look up to see Gunther, in his ceremonial robes, looking the very image of authority and power.
In front of him, I can see my brothers in arm, other guards, all of them who undertook the training when I did, who have also been assigned to personally protect our leader.
My ceremonial boots echo against the stone as I make my way down to join them and it’s hard not to be annoyed by the noise. I like stealth. I like silence. I’ve spent my life learning how to be invisible, how to be unheard. A man my size needs at least some element of surprise.
We kneel as one. Gunther stares down at us all with a mixture of expectation and something I can’t quite place.
Is it conceit, is it, fear? Maybe it’s both those things.
Afterall, he’s placing his trust, his faith, his very life in all our hands.
If we wanted to we could rise up, we could revolt.
It’s happened before; it’s happened in enough other Chapters for Gunther to be wary.
But other guards have done that only when there was crisis, when their leader was so inept it put all our way of life in jeopardy. Gunther maybe mad, but he’s controllable. The Senate see to that, the Senate ensure that.
I brush my concerns aside as a Bible is placed in front of me.
It’s an ancient thing, bound in leather and flesh of an animal I don’t care to consider.
The thing is older than all of us combined, older than this very Cathedral.
Every word has been etched in like a tattoo because paper can decay, paper can disintegrate.
This book here will last forever, it will last until the second coming and no doubt far beyond that too.
I place my hand upon it, the worn patch whispering secrets of a thousand oaths taken before mine.
“Do you swear to serve your Chapter Lord with loyalty and obedience, to lay down your life for his command, which is your highest honour?” the High Priest intones.
“I swear.” I respond without hesitation.
The oath is a chain, but it is one I have willingly accepted.
One I willingly make. The Brethren has been my family’s way of life since Elizabethan times.
It’s been the source of our fortune, of our success.
Who am I to decide I’m better than this, that my dreams are worth more than duty and sacrifice.
And besides, what dreams do I have? What dreams are there beyond power.
“Do you swear to guard, keep her safe and ensure she follows all her obligations graciously and dutifully, as our Chapter Lord dictates?”
I understand the gravity of what is being asked of me well enough; it’s not about protection, but control. We are to be her shadow, her shield, and if necessary, her jailer.
“I swear,” I say again quickly. We all know the Chapter Lady is nothing a symbolic role, a silent figure beside our leader. She’s there to smile and look pretty and if the Chapter Lord chooses, to breed with too.
The other guards swear just as quickly and then we’re dismissed.
I go back to sweeping the cathedral, checking for bombs.
When I get to the benches that are practically in the rafters, I stop and stare down.
These seats are for the lowest of the low.
Lords and Ladies who hold no power, no significance.
They’re far removed from the prestige my own is used to and I wonder for a second what it would feel like to be them.
To know they hold no sway; to know they cling to the rest of our boots, desperate for any bit of dirt we toss their way.
Far below, I can see Gunther preening, posturing, making a fuss about something.
The ceremony isn’t for hours yet, and yet he’s all dressed up and ready like a child up at dawn for Christmas day. Will he be as eager to open his new toy? Of course he will, he was lecherous enough when he had all seven girls to choose between.
Poor little bitch, she has no idea what awaits her. Will she cry, will she plead, or will she lie there like most of them do, and accept her fate, accept that her life has now irrevocably changed and what little choices she had before, are now gone.
She no longer gets to decide anything.
She no longer will be permitted to think.
She’ll be a living statue now. A thing to use. A thing to discard, too, if she proves to be difficult.
With a smirk, I start my descent. For the ceremony itself, I’m to be at the very bottom, on hand, ready to die, just as my oath stated.